This weekend is when we celebrate he Feast of the Epiphany—a word that means a new realization or new understanding of something. In everyday English, you could say “I had an epiphany,” and then proceed to tell one or more people about some new insight you acquired. The epiphany we celebrate this weekend refers to the Wise Men coming to the realization that this baby in the manger is the King of the Universe, the promised Messiah or Christ that as prophesied from old.
We’re all familiar with the Christmas story of Wise Men coming to Bethlehem, and we see manger scenes at church and in homes that depict angels, shepherds, and sheet gathered around the baby in a manger (which was “no crib for a bed”). We see the word “manger” and realize it’s a French word meaning “to eat.” And we put 2 and 2 together and realize that a manger is a feeding trough. And how apropos it was for Matthew to depict Jesus in such a place where food is found. We realize that this early Gospel scene in the life of Jesus is pointing to the end of the Gospel when he becomes Eucharistic food at the Last Supper.
Hmm. Putting the above 2 topics together, we realize that coming to Mass is our own coming to the manger to receive the “bread from heaven,” or what we call “the lamb of God” here at the “table of the Lord” in the form of communion. Each time we attend Mass, we ask God in prayer to nourish us with more and more epiphanies—more insights that help us live the best version of ourselves.
At this time of year, we picture in our minds and wonder why the Gospels of Mark and John do not refer to the birth of Jesus. Unlike Luke and Matthew addressing the birth, they simply had other topics to present. Remember, the Gospels are not biographies, but theologies of the Christ-event. And we think of the cruel King Herod—a man who killed some of his wives and children. He was also a jealous King—killing all babies under 2 years of age in order to destroy any child who might one day replace him as the king. As stated in the past, Gospel elements are all worthy of our reflection, e.g., to what extent are YOU like Herod—envious of what praise comes to others and not yourself?
And isn’t the star in the sky an inspiring touch to the Kodak moment of seeing mother, father, and baby surrounded by animals and angels as the star shines above them. The Christmas season is definitely one that is rich with religious meaning. However, scripture scholars tell us that the birth narrative is almost entirely symbolic. They say that the only historical realities of that special scene are the existence of Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and Herod! All the other material is rich with theological meaning that Matthew wanted to note—but nothing that actually took place (except the birth of a child SOMEWHERE under some unknown conditions.
Catacombs of the 2nd century have art still visible that shows two to four Wise Men. After all, scripture cites no actual number of kings from the far East—just that 3 gifts were brought. At other times in history, Christian communities said there were 12 visitors—until the tradition of 3 became the standard (based on there being 3 gifts mentioned in the story).
What sorts of theological truths was Matthew trying to communicate? Remember, he was writing 50 years after the death of Jesus, and there were truths that he was inspired to report that had been passed down over that period (a sprinkling of which are cited here).
For example, the kings represent ALL leaders of ALL peoples in the world coming to honor the King of Kings. And where did they find this scion of royalty? In a crib, in the presence of farm animals, and the simple folks in the fields—and even King Herod (who represents the wealthy class who likewise were allowed to honor the newborn king—but didn’t. Matthew subtly implies that secular leadership is not on a par with God (despite some political leaders wanting to present themselves in this way).
Gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh were traditional gifts brought to kings and even mentioned in the Old Testament. Even the galaxy itself bore witness to this son of God made incarnate! A special, celestial light shone down on the “holy family.”
In 1896, author Henry VanDyke was inspired to write The Other Wise Man—the story of Artaban, who intended to accompany 3 other kings to where they heard a king was to be born under an especially bright star in the sky. Artaban had a ruby, sapphire, and pearl that he wanted to present to the king. However, he was delayed in meeting with his fellow kings, so they left without him. He was detained by helping a man who had been beaten up and left to die on the road. Artaban paid an innkeeper to nurse the man back to health—paying him with the sapphire.
Upon arriving in Bethlehem where the star had stopped, Artaban knocked on a door and a terrified woman opened it—holding her baby close. He saw her frightened by the soldier coming from another house and headed for hers. Knowing these soldiers were sent to kill Jewish babies (as done by Pharaoh when Moses was an infant—another parallel Matthew wove into his gospel plot)—Artaban placed his ruby in the soldier’s hand and said “There are no children in this house”—and the soldier moved on.
The thankful mother was who informed Artaban that Mary and Joseph had fled to Egypt. And so he headed in that direction. However, he kept finding himself being stopped by different people in need week after week, month after month, and year after year. He could not turn his back on people in need, so he spent 30-some years looking for the Bethlehem king.
Learning that this king was to be crucified in Jerusalem, he made his way there. En route to Calvary, he came upon a woman being sold into slavery, so he took his final gift—his pearl of great price—and paid for the woman’s release. As reported in the gospel, an earthquake occurred when Jesus was dying on the cross, and as Artaban made his way to the cross, a roof collapsed on him, and put him at death’s door.
This is how Van Dyke described the scene:
As he lay dying, he bemoans never seeing the Messiah. He’s heard to say: Not so, my Lord! When did I see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty, and give you drink? When did I see you a foreigner and take you in? Or naked, and clothed you? When did I see you sick or in prison, and come to you? 33 years have I looked for you; but I have never seen your face, nor ministered to you, my King.'” The 4th wise man heard a voice say: “Since you have done these things for the least among you, you did it for me.” A calm wonder and joy lighted the pale face of Artaban like the first ray of dawn on a snowy mountain peak. A long breath of relief exhaled gently from his lips. His journey was ended. His treasures were accepted. The Other Wise Man had found the King.
Asked about writing this story, VanDyke said:
“I do not know where this little story came from–out of the air, perhaps. One thing is certain, it is not written in any other book, nor is it to be found among the ancient lore of the East. And yet I have never felt as if it were my own. It was a gift, and it seemed to me as if I knew the Giver.”
Like Matthew’s Gospel, this story distills the message preached by the evangelists. Artaban was sketched as a “role model” for us readers of the story. Each of us has our precious gem-like existence in being the unique person we are. And life always asks of us “What are you doing with the jewel that is you?”
A contrast of this story at this time in American history is being played out in the news as a new administration is being put together. Commentators have pointed out that the new, unfolding administration has more billionaires than any administration in U.S. history. Their involvement promises to net them even more riches—with no hint of them having any interest in following Artaban’s example. By contrast, kudos to the billionaire who, in the 1940’s, donated to the Smithsonian Institution the “Sapphire of Artaban.” It was donated with the condition that the donor remain anonymous.
This act of generosity was truly a creative form of catechesis (teaching the Gospel). For viewers to understand why this sapphire was named for Artaban, they would have to read a summary of the story such as appears here. Might any heart be moved by the tale? Might any new member of the administration give any thought to actually serving the public good?