back, you might come to find the same rings true in your own life.
Abram and his family were moved well over 2,500 miles before God revealed the patriarch’s true mission. Moses was a murderer hiding in the desert wilderness before God called him back to Egypt and, then, on to Sinai and the Promised Land. Joshua fled. Elijah ran. Esther’s family was deported into captivity. Even Jeremiah, though left behind in an increasingly desolated Jerusalem during the Babylonian capture, was “moved” from his comfort zone to a prophetic life of deep sorrow and eventual peace. God often moves those He loves to create more “space” for Him, to shake us free from created things (see Heb 12:26) and leave only what is unshaken (Heb 12:27).
What does this mean for you and me, personally? It means that God is the irresistible force often trying to call us immovable objects forward; the Father desires the ill-tempered brats to become malleable children.
Ask yourself: “Has God been trying to move me? Has the Father been trying to get this child’s attention and, if so, have I actually listened, or have I put in the ‘earbuds’ of modern busyness, stress, overwork, and self-involvement?”
If we want to see Jesus, we have to take our eyes out of our navels and peer up into the heavens.
Grand reopening
Have you ever driven by the “Grand Opening” of a restaurant or store? Oftentimes, you’ll see those giant moving spotlights out front, casting rays of blinding light into the night sky. The lights are designed to catch our attention, to announce something big, and to draw customers closer. Our human eyes are even more captivated by the mechanical lights shining up from earth than the light emanating down from the stars, stars that our ancestors affectionately called “the heavens.”
Our hearts are often drawn to artificial “lights” the world has to offer. We seek earthly solutions to our heavenly desires. Some people run to food and others to drugs. Some run to relationships and others to screens. Some people’s artificial light is popularity, and for others it is money. There is an endless list of diversions and quick fixes, but nothing external can heal the void internal. It takes Christ. He is our healer and savior. He is the solution to our problem of sin. Jesus is both the surgeon and the solution; His very life (which we call “grace”) is our antidote.
Look at the star of Bethlehem, for instance — even the celestial orb rising in the heavens functioned only as an arrow, an announcement … an external symbol. The star served as a starting point of the Magi’s journey and — by extension — our own. As it’s been said countless times before, wise men still seek Him. The external star symbolizes something that resides deep within us all, an internal longing for heaven’s glory. The pursuit of the Wise Men is reminiscent of our own pursuit of God. Something begins to happen within us when we admit our sinfulness and seek Jesus with more intensity. Literally, the mystery of Christ moves us and the love of Christ impels (and then propels) us forward.
I often wonder if I would have traveled as far for Christ as the Magi did. I mean, I only have to drive fifteen minutes to my parish to encounter the King of Kings in the tabernacle, upon the altar, in the adoration chapel or confessional. The Magi saddled dromedaries and headed west for the greatest road trip recorded in the Bible. I get stressed corralling four kids and my lovely bride into the car and then the pew before the entrance hymn is completed. But, the Wise Men journeyed for months, on a whim and a star. That’s faith. That is the kind of reckless abandon that all modern Christians need but few seem to possess, myself very much included.
Three wise guys and a baby
About twelve days after Christmas (you might recognize that time frame from the song) we celebrate the feast of the Epiphany, focusing on the events following Christ’s birth, when the Magi arrived and worshiped the King of Kings. While they didn’t RSVP for this baby shower, it’s difficult to imagine Mary or Joseph would have complained, especially when they carried in the gifts they did — gold, frankincense, and myrrh weren’t cheap (and not easily purchased from their local Target). When the “wise men” parked their camels and fell on their knees, their act of worship revealed something amazing: good news that would impact us all.
St. Matthew details the encounter for us:
When they had heard the king they went their way; and lo, the star which they had seen in the East went before them, till it came to rest over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy; and going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.” (Matthew 2:9-11)
Envision this miraculous encounter. The star they had followed now came to rest, the light shining in darkness now showered light upon the Light of the world. God from God, light from light, true God from true God. Here lay a baby — born and begotten, though not made — so radiant in splendor that the hearts of learned minds became so full they fell to their knees. Picture Mary’s expression in this moment. They all knew the prophecy, but Mary held the prophet. The shepherds had come and found the Lamb (of God) … now the Wise Men came and found Wisdom Incarnate.
Picture the baby Jesus. Is He squirming or calm? How is Mary holding Him? Did He wail before the Magi or laugh? Were they allowed to hold the one who held the universe in His tiny hands? Did they kiss His brow? Was He bathed in their tears? Imagine the validation they must have felt after such a journey — not a validation that they were right, but that they had now encountered all that is right in the universe.
The shepherds had come and found the Lamb (of God) … now the Wise Men came and found Wisdom Incarnate.
If you’ve ever experienced pure love, you know how it ruins you for anything less. The Magi not only experienced their Creator but sat in the presence of the only soul the Creator chose to need so profoundly … the blessed Mother. There is no way, once you behold the splendor of God so simply, that the simple ever looks the same again. As Fyodor Dostoyevsky said: “If you love … you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day” (The Brothers Karamazov).
Imagine how impressive the gold would have looked to the Magi on the way to Bethlehem, and how it paled in comparison to the luminance emanating from the manger upon their arrival. How shiny the gold, how thick the cloud of incense, how fragrant the myrrh — all overshadowed by the God of the universe — the Bread of Life — laid in a feedbox. Consider how the things of the world can appear so impressive and pressing at times, occupying all of our thought and stressing our senses. They’re stressful, that is, until we are in the presence of God — Christ’s true presence in the Eucharist — where heaven kisses earth, once again, in gentleness and in mercy, just as it did in Bethlehem.
Moving forward from Bethlehem
Tradition reveals that the names of the Magi are Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. Though no one knows for sure, it was St. Bede the Venerable (672-735) who filled in the details on the Wise Men, teaching:
• Melchior was an older man, with a long white beard and white hair, who brought gold to celebrate the kingship of Jesus.
• Gaspar was a younger, beardless, and “ruddy” (red-haired) man who offered (frank)incense to honor the divinity of Christ.
• Balthazar was a middle-aged man of black complexion, with a heavy beard, who offered myrrh to signify the humanity of the Lord.
Medieval legends state that their bones were put in the cathedral of Cologne, the “City of the Three Kings,” brought
