Magi:
I thought we had finally arrived, finally made it after such a long and arduous journey. Here we are, in Jerusalem, in this city of such beauty and grandeur and history and layers of religious meaning. All these bright lights after so much darkness. They call it Zion, the city of David, the city of peace – ‘yir’eh’ – he will see it – ‘Shalem’ – Shalom – peace. Here is where we should find the peace we have been seeking. Here is where we should finally get the answers to our quest, to our following of this star. If this star has truly been pointing to a king, doesn’t it make sense that we would find him here, in Jerusalem, in the capital, in the very centre of things? But so far, we are just running into dead ends. We keep asking around everywhere ‘where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?’ but we are getting nothing in return that we can hang on to, no one seems to know anything. I am beginning to question this whole venture.
I should back up here, and fill in our story a little bit. I’m not even sure where to start, or even why we started in the first place. Yes, there was that strange light, that apparition in the sky, that star, that appeared and seemed to beckon us, call us, that was pointing to something of cosmic significance. But it was more than that. It was an inner restlessness, an unease with what we saw in the world and where we were going. You could almost say a spiritual crisis – there must be more to life, more to what we could see and observe on the surface of things. That light seemed to release a hope and a dream that was deep inside, waiting to emerge.
So we started our journey, our travels. I started to see it as a quest – to find answers, to seek meaning, to deal with the restlessness of my heart. And we traveled at night, in the heart of darkness, because that was when we could see the star that was guiding our way. I had always been afraid of the dark, wary of things in the shadows. But we had no choice. Do you know what? I slowly got used to the darkness, and it became a place of comfort rather than fear. It was like my eyes adjusted and this was where I could truly see. Darkness gives you that gift of quiet and space and time when not much else is going on. We mostly rode in silence, not wanting to disturb or awaken any suspicion. So I had time to think, to ponder, to reflect – on our quest, on my wonderings and questions, on my priorities and values, on the meaning of life itself. I began to long for the darkness. Darkness strangely is where I feel most safe.
Maybe that is why I am so unsettled here in the big city – so many lights, so much flurry and activity all around us. Everyone is running around, but no one seems to be paying attention. There is so much light, that you can hardly see.
We do have one potential lead. We were approached and invited to meet with none other than King Herod himself, the centre of power. Maybe this is where we can finally discover what we have been looking for. Surely a ruler will have some answers for us, some insights into where we might find this child, this king.
King Herod:
It started with a few looks, an odd expression here, a furtive glance there, a sudden look to the ground that was a little quicker than usual – something more than the usual deference. The gardener, the cook, the sentry. I knew something was up. I’ve learned to read the eyes, to see what is behind the blank faces people give me, to recognize when someone is trying to hide something, to notice when something is amiss. You have to as a good leader, if you want information, if you want to know what is really going on. Something or someone was happening somewhere in Jerusalem, and I needed to find out more.
I turned to my sources. I pay them well. I have eyes and ears everywhere. Nothing stays hidden from me for too long. There were rumours of visitors, wanderers, foreigners, some thought they might be kings of some sort from the East, maybe some sort of astronomers or star gazers. They were called Magi, and they were poking around Jerusalem, going around, asking questions, causing a stir in the city, getting the people riled up. They wanted to know about a child that was going to be born, but also about a king. They seemed to have some sort of inside information. My sources told me that they were not afraid, that they had a quiet confidence to them. They knew what they wanted and were going to get the information. This was going to require some delicate manoeuvres.
It was strange… and worrisome. I got scared. Frightened actually. The more people talked about these strangers, the more I was terrified. They could upend everything I have worked so hard for, everything that has kept the peace, and kept me in power for so many years, more than 30 now. Isn’t that what the people want? Peace. It’s unheard of in our time. To keep Rome happy that long. To maintain this uneasy balance as a Roman vassal, and yet with such a proud independently minded local people. They are unpredictable. They can be religious fanatics if I don’t watch out. But I did it, through strength, through crafty negotiations, through keeping people guessing and afraid. I am proud of this peace I have brought and am not going to let some strangers asking questions upset the balance. Questions lead to wonder. Wonder invites imagination. Imagination inspires hope. And hope emboldens a people to want change, to take action, to destroy the fragile balance I have worked so hard to preserve. Don’t they know what is good for them? Don’t they value stability? Sure, I make life hard, a living hell for some, but life is predictable, we know what to expect, everyone knows where power lies and what they can and cannot do. And I am going to keep it that way.
So I took action. I gathered together all the key Jewish religious leaders, their chief priests and scribes, and I had them tell me about their Scriptures, about their messianic predictions – where was this supposed Messiah, saviour, to be born. I had a dual purpose, I always do – to get info, intel – they told me about some obscure prophecy that predicted a ruler coming out of the insignificant town of Bethlehem, but also to get those leaders worried and worked up themselves – they might just do my work for me and snuff this out internally. I don’t think they want some Eastern outsiders upsetting their religious authority any more than I do.
My plan was coming into place. I found out where these magi were and secretly called them in to my inner sanctum, my ‘Mar-a-lago’. I wined and dined them, buttered them up – I can put it on thick – and then asked more about this star they were following, and what they hoped to find. I sent them off myself, towards Bethlehem, with instructions to find this child king and let me know where he was, because I myself wanted to go and pay him homage… like I would ever set foot in ‘Bethlehem’ or honour another potential ruler and threat to my power. But it worked. They bought it. I can play the game. The trap was set and they didn’t suspect a thing. I had snuffed out another potential problem like I always do.
Magi:
I still can’t believe what we have all heard and seen in the last day. It’s like I am a totally different person now, like the lights have been turned on and I can finally see. We hardly wanted to leave the house, but we knew we had to return home, and do so quickly by a different road, before word got back to Herod. There was something in Herod’s eyes that didn’t sit right with us and niggled away as we traveled to Bethlehem, something that told us he had ulterior motives.
We did find the house – the star led us right there. I had been expecting something grand, maybe another palace, or at least a sizable dwelling of comfort and luxury. We were looking for a king, right? This was more of a shack, a hut – clean and warm, but a humble dwelling. More peasant than king. That should have been the first clue that our world was about to be turned upside down. We knocked and entered, and there before us was this very young couple and this little, what, baby, toddler, not quite talking yet, but starting to take his first steps. He looked innocent, curious, lovable, peaceful, and terribly small. He certainly was no threat to anybody. A vulnerable little baby.
But there was something different. We saw it in their eyes. The parents knew already that this baby would grow up and be special and that he would change our world. But not in ways we expect. A ruler, yes, but one who comes to Shepherd his people Israel, to lead by example, by laying down his life. He would have power, but not through domination or control. He would inspire change, but through encouragement and motivation and showing the way. He would change lives, but through invitation and calling. He would change the world, through hope and love. The Herods of this world don’t stand a chance.
We were overwhelmed. We could hardly speak. There was this spark of joy that arose from deep inside and radiated out. I couldn’t stop smiling, almost giggling, but tearing up at the same time. I knelt down before him. – before a little child – In homage, in worship, in prayer. Our eyes have seen the salvation that has been prepared before us. Gentile/Jew, outside/insider, foreigner/citizen, stranger/friend – it didn’t’ matter. It was like we all were at home, at one, at peace. We started sharing stories and food and rich conversations. Time passed by as if it were timeless. We felt totally at home. It felt like a gift.
We brought out our gifts too. We had brought gold, such a precious commodity, valuable, fit for royalty, fit for a king. There was Frankincense – an incense used for worship, for awe, for times just like this when the holy was in our midst. And we gave myrrh – a perfume that soon permeated the whole room. Now myrrh is often used to prepare bodies for burial. Not something associated with a new birth. But we knew already that birth and death, new life and letting go of the old life, would be a part of this child. This will not be a safe life, and following this child, this ruler, will not be easy, it might even bring one to die to self, but it is a way that ultimately promises life.
So here we are, taking another road, not going back the way we came, and yet somehow feeling homeward bound in more ways than one. We still travel at night, in the darkness, but a darkness so warm and inviting and comforting, that light always gets through. I left there with the words of an ancient Psalm that I overheard and spoke deep into my heart – about a Shepherd that makes us lie down in green pastures and leads besides still waters, restoring our souls. About walking through the darkest valleys, fearing no evil, for thou art with me. There will be comfort, there will be a table before me, even in the presence of enemies. My head, anointed with oil, the cup of my life overflowing. For surely goodness and mercy will follow me, will follow us, on another road, all the days of our lives, and we will dwell in the house of the Lord, forever. Amen.