The Visit of the Magi

Matthew 2:1-12

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star* at its rising and have come to do him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. Assembling all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They said to him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it has been written through the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; since from you shall come a ruler, who is to shepherd my people Israel.’” Then Herod called the magi secretly and ascertained from them the time of the star’s appearance. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search diligently for the child. When you have found him, bring me word, that I too may go and do him homage.”

After their audience with the king they set out. And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, until it came and stopped over the place where the child was. They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way.

Gentlemen, I wish you all a very happy New Year, and wanted to share this amusing Epiphany anecdote with you from John Shea:

When the Magi finally reached the manger to greet the newborn King, they each dismounted from their camels, knelt before the baby Jesus and presented their gifts. One by one they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The baby Jesus thanked the first King but said I don’t want the gold. The second King presented his gift and again the baby Jesus said that he did not want the frankincense. Finally, the third King offered his gift of myrrh and for the third time the baby Jesus refused saying he did not want any myrrh. The kings were confused and asked Jesus, what do you want? The baby Jesus looked at them and said; “I want the camel”

Shea explained the point of the story is that Jesus can’t have a relationship with gold, frankincense or myrrh, but he could have a relationship with the camel. Jesus offers us himself. It’s all about relationship.

Discussion Questions:

1. When have you experienced something you would describe as a religious epiphany? What experiences are challenging you, enlarging and growing your life? 
2. Who are the people that orient your life, and what relationships give you stability?
3. As a Disciple of Jesus, how are you consciously a guide or light for others in your family, workplace, and other relationships? How do you bring this spiritual practice into awareness first, then into action?
4. In the coming year, what changes in your spiritual focus might help you to recognize the humble and unexpected epiphanies occurring your daily life?

Biblical Context

Matthew 2:1-12
Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

“Rise in splendor, your light has come!” “When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled.”

Isaiah and Matthew spoke about the same reality and opposing reactions from people who heard of it. Ignatius of Loyola would explain that when good people hear the Gospel, the “good spirit” gives them peace and consolation; the “evil spirit” causes the same news to bring dreadful consternation to those whose purposes run counter to God’s designs.

First, let’s look at the evil side. According to Matthew’s narrative, the news of a newborn king so disturbed King Herod that he ordered a massacre of all boy children born around the time of the Magi’s travels. This story is probably less factual than symbolic: It creates a parallel between Jesus and Moses who was saved from Pharoah’s slaughter of the Hebrews (Exodus 1:15-22). Yet even if Herod didn’t order the massacre, he was cruel enough to order the death of his own sons, whom he saw as rivals. 

Typical of Jesus’ enemies, Herod couldn’t tolerate the danger Jesus posed to the evil powers that propped him up. To Herod, as to the pharaoh, the good news posed a lethal threat.

Now to the good spirits. Isaiah proclaims that the very glory of God will shine on and through the people. The darkness they experienced stood in stark contrast to what God was working among them. Isaiah teaches that knowing God’s glory causes people’s hearts to throb and overflow such that their very faces reflect divine glory. According to Isaiah, knowing God’s glory makes people so attractive that the whole world will be drawn to them. 

In Matthew’s narrative, the Magi symbolize all people who seek the glory of God and who, when they see signs of it, are willing to journey beyond their own horizons, seeking God’s yet-unknown grace and wonders. 

Paul, in his own way, reflects the Magi’s spirit through his life-changing discovery of the mystery of Christ’s love. In contrast to the murdering Herod, when Paul encountered Christ, he became the apostle who proclaimed the good news to Gentiles, insisting that Christ came for all Earth’s people.

This year, we will hear the Gospel of Matthew. The story of the Magi introduces two of his key themes. First, Matthew highlights Christ as our Emmanuel, God with us. The angel who appeared to reassure Joseph called Mary’s unborn child Emmanuel, indicating who Jesus would be (Matthew 1:23). In the last words of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus commissions his disciples with the promise, “Behold, I am with you [Emmanuel] until the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20)

The second theme the Magi introduce is Emmanuel’s presence for the whole world. Just as Isaiah proclaimed that nations would walk by the light of Israel, Matthew speaks of foreigners who sought the one heralded by their star. They trekked long and far to the insignificant town of Bethlehem to find that light. 

This theme, too, finds its counterpart at the end of the Gospel when Jesus commissions the disciples to “Go and make disciples of all nations.” In the presence of Emmanuel, there are no foreigners.

Matthew’s Gospel invites us all to contemplate the reality of Emmanuel, God with us here and now. We are setting off into a year of paying particular attention to recognizing Emmanuel in our midst.

The feast of the Epiphany reminds us that the good news is for everyone of every age. Its proclamation can bring great joy or cause terrible consternation, depending on what each person or society values.

The feast of the Epiphany invites us to enter deeply into these readings. With Isaiah, we can meditate on what truly makes our hearts throb and grow. Reading Paul’s words to the Romans, we can recall ways in which we have felt God’s invitation into mystery and newness. We can discern about the signs of our times and ask what things we have heard that were “not made known to people in other generations.” Then we ask ourselves what we are capable of as people made “coheirs, members of the same body and copartners in the promise in Christ Jesus.” 

If we are adventurous enough, we might ask the Magi what would draw them forth today. What is happening that would echo in their hearts? Who would they invite to journey with them seeking God’s newness? The Magi would then ask us, “What do you long for so much that you would search heaven and Earth to find it?”

Epiphany urges us to decide what will orient us in this coming year and to set off toward it with the bold and adventurous hope that can only spring from faith — a wonderful way to begin a year of concentration on the Gospel of Matthew.

 

All They Could Do Was Follow the Star

Reflection
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

I’ve come to realize that epiphanies aren’t so much an “Aha, I got it” kind of moment – a flash of insight, a sudden realization – but an “Aha, it’s got me” kind of moment. 

Something rises from deep within us, awakens our heart, and touches a desire or longing, known or unknown, in such a way that all we can do is follow the star even when we don’t know where it is taking us, what will happen along the way, or how our lives might be changed. I think that’s what happened to “the wise from the East” in today’s gospel.

They “observed his star and its rising” and all they could do was follow it. They didn’t know where they were going the day they left home. They didn’t know where they would be the next day, the next week, or six months later. They couldn’t predict what would and would not happen along the way, or how their lives might be changed. They couldn’t see their destination any more than I can see the destination of my marriage, my parenting, my grief, or priesthood. Something had claimed and called them. Something got ahold of them and wouldn’t let them go. 

I wonder when you’ve experienced that. What are your epiphanies? What has gotten ahold of you today and just won’t let go?

Don’t worry about where it’s taking you. Trust the star. Easier said than done, I know. I don’t know how many times along the way I’ve heard myself or another say things like: “But I don’t know where I’m going.” “I don’t know what to do.” “I don’t know what will happen.” “I’ve never done this before.” “I’m scared.” 

Follow the star. The star knows the way. That’s really all I have for you. It’s all I’ve got for myself. It’s all the wise men had. And it’s enough. It reminds me of a line from one of Emily Dickinson’s letters. 

“The sailor cannot see the North, but knows the needle can”

The wise men cannot see the child or Bethlehem, but they trust the star can. Maybe epiphanies are not so much an event or point in time but an ongoing journey. Maybe we can never see the destination and maybe we don’t need to. Maybe we just need to follow the star.

Here’s what strikes me about today’s gospel. The wise men didn’t know the destination, but they knew the way. They knew which star to follow. And all they could do was follow the star. It’s the one that led and allowed them to open the treasure chest of their lives. 

That’s the star I want to follow. What about you?

Reflection from “Interrupting the Silence” by Fr. Michael K. Marsh. Used by permission