One
night, observers of the heavens in a distant land discovered a new light in the
sky. Every eight centuries, the alignment of the planets Jupiter and Saturn formed
one super bright constellation. In that time and culture, Jupiter was the heavenly
symbol of a world ruler and Saturn was the patron planet of Palestine, so it was
quite logical that the magi's journey took them to Palestine in quest of the birth
of a great king. Discovering the new born Jesus in Bethlehem was the culmination
of a long, difficult search that could have taken several years. Yet the place
where Jesus lay was not the final destination of the magi. Like Peter, James,
and John who would later experience a flash of spiritual ecstasy on a mountaintop,
they did not linger to build a permanent shrine in Bethlehem. They worshipped,
they gave thanks, rested a bit, but then they pulled up their tents. They remembered
a sense of uneasiness generated by Herod, and very likely conveyed to Mary and
Joseph some sort of warning. Perhaps news of unrest in their own homelands had
already reached the magi. So the birthplace of Jesus became not the end for the
magi, but a new beginning. The magi had, a vision of God’s love for all humanity.
All the rest of their lives, they would share this revelation everywhere they
went.
ÝFor some sixty miles, a three digit, two lane,
secondary state highway parallels the Susquehanna River, running through a half
dozen small towns between Northumberland and Harrisburg. At the crest of a steep
hill overlooking the river, broad Sycamore trees line both sides of the road for
about four miles, forming a canopy of white branches in winter, and cool shade
in summer. Whoever planted those dozens of trees knew that they would never live
long enough to enjoy their full glory. Perhaps it was the families that established
the farms on either side or it’s possible it was an old WPA project. We would
take the road as a refreshing alternative to the interstate. My children call
it the road of Anne of Green Gables, but it reminds me of the way of the magi,
who were likely to expend great effort to plant what only later generations would
enjoy.
Ý Matthew’s fascinating story of the magi
begs several very disconcerting questions. Where do people search for wisdom today?
Do they realize they may well encounter treacherous dead ends like that of Herod’s
court, and will they keep searching and eschew the easy path? Will people recognize
truth when it confronts them or will they be seduced by only what they want to
hear? There is a deep albeit seldom recognized, yearning for spiritual holiness
and meaning. Such recognition often takes courage to admit in our society. All
such journeys involve a discovery of some sort of birth, a new light, a new alignment
of bodies of cosmic proportions. All these things involve change. If we are to
be seekers and carriers of truth like the magi, we cannot just ascend one mountaintop
and build shrines right there. We must also let go of some of our treasurers and
perhaps travel lighter, as we go on to other routes.
Ý
Epiphany season is a time of many and seemingly conflicting themes. The vision
of the crèche offers new and unexpected hope. Yet for some, the end of
Christmas comes as a relief, when a heavy pack is taken off one’s back. However,
before too long, like Mary and Joseph, we also hear the footsteps of Herod’s
soldiers. Forces of the outside world knock at the door and won’t be put
off. Just as we finished opening our Christmas cards, and before we took down
our tree, county tax bills and IRS forms came in the mail and world news continued
to be grim without any respite.
Ý Leaving behind gifts
for the Holy Family and disappearing over the horizon of legend, the magi bequeath
a fresh legacy to us today more valuable than the gifts of frankincense, gold,
and myrrh. Across the centuries of time, they tell us: You have been to the stable,
too. Now you have seen the birth of the Savior. Now you have seen a great light.
And now your real journey begins. Don’t settle for any less than being a
planter of the seeds of God’s universal grace.
Ý
The magi seem to get pretty short shrift. They don’t get to stay at the stable
long, That’s why they deserve a stained glass window of their own. The stained
glass window I’ve designed for the magi will have a grove of ancient trees
by a roadside at the top of a steep hill. For they arrived, they rejoiced, and
then they departed going their way and sowing the seeds of God’s grace for
future generations. Their legacy has sheltered, refreshed, and encouraged searchers
ever since.
