Not much is really known about the magi. We assume they were three in number since Matthew only mentions three gifts. Might they have been kings? Astrologers? Priests of an eastern religion? Were they wise men? Were their names Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar? We don’t know but the facts aren’t important. What matters is what they did.
They came from the east, searching for the new born king of the Jews. They were seekers. “We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” Distance and time did not stop them from seeking what really mattered to them. They came from afar, reading the stars, making inquiries as they followed the star that stood out in the night sky. This was not the same as going down to the local grocery store in search of a missing ingredient for some dinner recipe.
Seeking is what people of faith continually find themselves doing. Static faith does not endure for long. Those who do not seek to enrich their faith through prayer and worship risk losing what faith they have. This feast invites us to reflect on our ultimate goals in life. What matters to us in the long run? Are we really searching for God or merely paying lip service with so much else commanding our time and energy?
On Christmas, I talked about a father who kept a box in this closet marked “good stuff.” This time, I want to talk about a son who found a box in his father’s bedroom closet that was marked “Christmas stuff.”
His father was a common laborer who could barely provide for his family. His mother was chronically ill, constantly in need of medical care that the family could hardly afford. Life was a succession of meager meals, second hand clothes and furniture. All the boy wanted to do was escape his poverty and he did, by focusing on school and work. With guile and luck, he rose rapidly in the corporate world. By age 40, he had realized the American dream: a prestigious position with a New York investment firm, a beautiful home and family, and more than enough money to live securely for the rest of his life. The poverty of his childhood was a distant memory.
Then his father died. As far as he was concerned, his father died a failure. After the funeral, he went to clean out his father’s small apartment. He was embarrassed by the rickety furniture and the few possessions that made up his father’s “estate.”
In one closet, he found a box labeled “Christmas stuff.” For a few moments he was a boy again, reliving the joy of Christmases past when he was too young to realize how poor his family was. As he fingered the ornaments and the pieces of the manger scene, an incredible sadness overcame him. Then he spotted an envelope taped to the base of the manger. Inside was a letter, written by his father, dated Christmas 1955.
“Hi, Johnny, I’m your daddy. I’ve waited a long time to say that. How can I describe what it means to be your daddy? Words don’t easily come to me, but here goes. Johnny, to be your daddy means picking you up when you fall and holding you when you are afraid. Being your daddy means loving you just because you are my son. There’s so much in my heart, so many dreams for you. You have brought joy to our lives, a joy that your mom and I never thought we’d know.
“Johnny, a few weeks before we were married, the doctors told us that because of your mom’s health, we could never have a child of our own. We were crushed. Every morning and night, we prayed for a miracle. Months turned into years and then much to our surprise, you were born at 12:01 AM on December 8. Because of you, Christmas carries a special meaning for us.
“Son, I’ll never be rich. But I believe that if God could help us find our way to you, God will carry us every step of the way. We’ll always have each other and that’s more than I ever hoped for, much more than I probably deserve. Someday, Johnny, you’ll understand how I’m feeling. Just keep in mind who you are, where you’ve come from, and how much you are loved. Hold the blessings of Christmas close to your heart, because you are one of them. You are forever our miracle child.”
Johnny sat there in tears, clutching the most valuable piece of paper he had ever held. He realized how rich his parents were and how poor he had become.
Like the magi, we are on a pilgrimage; our lives are a constant search for meaning, for purpose, for God and the things of God. The gospel today invites us to consider the stars we follow to chart the course of our lives. Do we navigate by the stars that lead us to wealth, to power, to prestige –stars that change, move beyond us, eventually flame out of the sky altogether? Or do we fix our lives on the great “star” of God: peace, compassion, mercy, justice, forgiveness? It is never too late to discover as Johnny did late in his life’s journey, that the true measures of life are found in the things of God.
These decorations will soon be packed away in boxes labeled “Christmas stuff,” for another year, yet the message of Christmas is one we must ponder daily as we search for God in places and persons where we least expect to find him. In the coming year, may we show God and others what matters to us by taking time to pay homage as the magi did through prayer and worship. The magi found what they were looking for on their pilgrimage and so will we as we journey together with faith in the guiding star of Christ. As the message on some Christmas cards proclaim, “Wise men still seek him.” And so must we.