Pilgrims and Patrons

How do you picture the magi? What do you imagine when you think of the mysterious figures in today’s Gospel who travel from afar to pay homage to the baby Jesus? At the risk of ruining a popular carol, they are not likely kings, and there aren’t necessarily three of them. The magi are probably Zoroastrian priests from Persia, known for their proficiency in dream interpretation and astrology.[1] Hence the importance of the star in their journey to Bethlehem. Even if we can’t be certain of anything else, we know the magi are not of the people of Israel; they’re Gentiles, outsiders, representatives of the wider world. And for that reason, their visit fulfills a prophecy in Isaiah: “Nations shall come to your light,” we hear in today’s first reading, “and kings to the brightness of your dawn…. They shall bring gold and frankincense / and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord.” Well, not kings in the case of the magi, but you get the idea. 

The connection to Isaiah has conditioned me to view the magi as a kind of foreign delegation– a group of emissaries who come to acknowledge a new sovereign in Israel and establish relations, so to speak.

Unfortunately, they don’t anticipate the controversy their visit causes. It makes sense that the magi make a stop in Jerusalem before venturing out to Bethlehem to find Jesus. After all, it would be unusual for foreign dignitaries to bypass a major city on their way to a smaller, lesser known community. What’s more, Jerusalem is home to the official record, and sure enough, the magi get reliable directions there. The king is to be born in Bethlehem of Judea, according to the religious authorities, “for so it has been written by the prophet….” King Herod himself points the way. But Herod is unwilling to accommodate a potential rival, so he develops a scheme to rid himself of Jesus. The magi get wind of Herod’s duplicity, and, with diplomatic relations in shambles, they avoid him altogether on their way home.

I think that’s a fine interpretation of this famous episode. But this year at Epiphany, I’m thinking of the magi in broader terms– perhaps they are political actors, yes, and they are pilgrims and patrons. Hear me out.

There’s more to their journey than just foreign policy. The magi sense something transcendent in the advent of a new king in Israel. That’s apparent in their reaction to discovering the baby Jesus where the road finally ends: “When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they knelt down and paid him homage.”

This is the behavior of a pilgrim, one who consciously sets out on a journey in pursuit of some deeper truth. When the Seattle-based writer Timothy Egan decided to hike the Via Francigena– an ancient pilgrimage from Canterbury to Rome– for instance, he intended to force a reckoning with his own faith. Reflecting on his arrival at the trail head, he writes:

I’m looking for… a stiff shot of no-bullshit spirituality. [And] I have no idea what that is. I’ve never been “saved” or visited by an apparition or even had a prayer answered, that I know of. I’m a skeptic by profession, an Irish Catholic by baptism, culture, and upbringing– lapsed but listening, like half of all Americans of my family’s faith. [But] I’m no longer comfortable in the squishy middle; [agnosticism is] too easy…. It’s time to force the issue, to decide what I believe or admit what I don’t.

Timothy Egan is not alone. 200 million people make some kind of spiritual pilgrimage every year, testifying to that deep human yearning to find God, and find ourselves in the process.[2] That sounds a bit like the magi, doesn’t it? The magi are pilgrims.

And of course, they famously bring gifts along. Those gifts have symbolic value: gold for a king, frankincense for a priest, and myrrh to anticipate Jesus’ death and burial. But I’ve also heard a more practical interpretation: as items of value, gold, frankincense, and myrrh would greatly help the Holy Family finance their abrupt flight to Egypt to escape Herod’s persecution.

That means the magi are patrons of the Incarnation, which is to say that these early visitors not only perceive Jesus’ singular importance, but they also help support his survival and ultimately his thriving as God’s Anointed. Their generosity is both an act of devotion and a strategic contribution to Jesus’ messianic ministry.

The magi are pilgrims, and the magi are patrons. They are seekers and supporters, devotees and donors, blessed by the baby Jesus to be a blessing, both to him and to the world he comes to save.

The wonder of Christmas, friends, is that long before the magi set out to find God, God had already determined to find them. Long before they lavished Jesus with gifts, God had lavished them with every good thing. So much of religion emphasizes what we do for God, the choice we make for God. But what matters most in the Incarnation is what God does for us, the choice God makes for us. God doesn’t wait for us to seek or call, but comes to be with us– Emmanuel– in all our circumstances. Everything we do, all our searching and all our sacrifice, is in grateful response. “Even faith is a gift,” as one preacher puts it,

the fruit of God’s grace at work in us– not an accomplishment for which we can take credit…. God always takes the initiative with us, a shepherd leading us toward himself, [and] following us in our [earthly pilgrimage] so that we never get beyond the love that will not let us go.”[3]

[1] Niveen Sarras, www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3931.

[2]A Pilgrimage to Eternity, 7-8.

[3] John B. Rogers, in Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2, 434.