December 21, 2003
Strangers In a Strange Land
Riley E. Jensen

Out of the East I came one cold wintry night -- my bones chilled, my feet sore, my body weary, and my camel hobbled.  It had been a long and difficult journey.  More than once I was tempted to turn back, and I would have were it not for the star.  For that star had a strange compelling effect on me.  It reached out as it were, gripping me and drawing me to itself.  And the gods know, I resisted.  After all I was a member of the class of the Magi.  The roots of our wisdom and knowledge go back to ancient Persia.  Our special wisdom and scientific knowledge are known throughout the world.  We are students of the skies.  We believe that there is a relationship between the planets and the events of our world.

As a member of the Magi I enjoy the life of the Court.  Its luxuries and its delicacies are never far from my every whim.  This journey, this elusive pursuit of an unknown star at times made me regret leaving my palatial surrounding amidst the formal gardens and the silken dancing girls.

Three weeks ago I really was ready to give up.  I, with my caravan, had already been on the road for a number of weeks.  The weather was sharp and biting.  The camels were tired.  Overall morale was at an extremely low ebb.  The camel men would go about cursing and grumbling; night found some running away, deserting into the darkness of an unknown wilderness.  They wanted their liquor and their women, and they were frustrated by the night fires always going out, the lack of suitable shelter, the cities hostile, the towns unfriendly, and the village’s dirty and charging high prices.  At times we found it necessary to keep moving, traveling all night, and sleeping only in the snatches -- with voices ringing in our ears, saying that this was all folly.

But then something happened which lifted our morale.  A spirit of anticipation was in the air.  For the past few nights the star had not moved out before us as it had in the past; it seemed more steady, holding its position in the sky.  There was a sense that the end of our trek was not far off.  On this particular night we were beginning to set up our camp when we noticed another caravan approaching from the Southeast.  As the caravan approached, I saw an aristocratic old man with a long flowing white beard, and wearing exquisite garments approaching.

I thought to myself, “This is indeed a coincidence.  Here we are far away from the best traveled trade routes in the midst of the season of most inclement weather.  How unusual it is to encounter another foreign caravan.”  After exchanging amenities, I soon realized that he was just as curious about me as I was about him.  His name was Melchior.  He was a sage from the land of Yemen, deep in the Arabian peninsula.  I explained to him that my origins were in the far away land of Ethiopia where I was a member of the same court from which the Queen of Sheba had once ventured in order to visit the palace of King Solomon.

There we were, glad for the break in monotony on a lonely journey, when the camel men began shouting at the top of their lungs.  Another caravan had been sighted.  Upon hearing this news, we were absolutely dumb-founded.

Soon we met one who called himself Gaspar.  Compared to Melchior and myself, this Gaspar was nothing more than a youth.  In his excitement he did not wait for us to introduce ourselves. 

“Have you seen the star?” he asked.  Not waiting for an answer, he quickly pulled out his charts and began to draw diagrams showing the relationship of the star to its nearest constellations.  “What do you think it means?  The end of the world?  The beginning of a great plague?”

Well, to say the least, Melchior and I were overwhelmed by this rare display of energy and thought.  It became readily apparent that Gaspar was a brilliant young practitioner of our art.  But the counsel of years had not yet taught him the subtleties of interpreting the sky.

His disarming style notwithstanding, Gaspar had cut right to the heart of the issue.  The star.  What did it mean?  Where did it come from?  How had it managed to attract three who, although from similar professions, represented such a diversity of cultures and background?  As a matter of fact, we found our preoccupation with the star to be rather embarrassing.  Should you get the impression that we were just mystics who went chasing rainbows, let me be quick to tell you that first and foremost we considered ourselves men of science, uniquely equipped with skill and knowledge.  Because we enjoyed the patronage of the courts and kings we did not have to go off chasing rainbows.  We had all of the necessary instruments and the equipment at hand in order to read the skies and decipher their meanings.  But this was different.  It was as if we were being drawn into another dimension of reality.

After this initial exchange, we were anxious to compare notes.  And so we did.  It seemed that one night (some three months before while watching the heavens according to our regular practice) a strange star came into view on the horizon.  At first we took little notice of it since a number of alternative explanations were possible.  And yet during the next few nights we kept coming back to it, and each time its brightness seemed to have increased until finally (according to our perception) it practically illuminated the entire sky.  For several nights we analyzed the star, studying its configuration in the heavens.  We searched the ancient scrolls and documents to find some mention of it.

Finally we discovered in the holy writings of the Hebrews, the prophecy that “A star shall come forth out of Jacob and a scepter shall rise out of Israel.”  Further research revealed the Jewish belief that one day a kingly Messiah would be born among the Jews, a chosen instrument for their salvation and the salvation of all peoples in bondage.  That prophecy (accompanied by the remarkable confirmation of the star) had caused each of us to leave the comfort of our palatial lives in order to give homage to the newborn King.

With a common mission motivating us and the end almost in sight, we set out together to seek further information in the capitol city of Jerusalem.  For it seemed logical to us that if such a King had been born, the Royal Court itself could give us guidance.

Unfortunately, even though we prided ourselves on being wise men, that assumption was a critical, almost fatal error in judgment.  You see, we are scientists, not politicians or psychologists.  How were we to know that the king who at that time occupied the throne of Israel was not a nice person.

I hate to admit it but we have young Gaspar to thank for not being taken in by him.  To Melchior and me, our meeting in response to Herod’s summons had been innocent enough.  If he seemed surprisingly ignorant and curious about our mission, he masked his inner anxiety and hostility well.  However, the sensitivity of youth is often able to pierce the social charade.  We can thank Gaspar that we did not become the unwitting agents of doom to the Savior of the world.

After our audience with Herod, we took our leave, looking again to the star for guidance.

With Jerusalem behind us it wasn’t long before we arrived in Bethlehem.  The census which had been ordered by Quirinius, Roman governor of Syria, had been completed some time before.  The hustle-and-bustle of those days had gradually receded until now Bethlehem was once again a sleepy little village nestled in the hills.

We pitched our camp outside the town and then I invited Melchior and Gaspar to my tent to discuss our future course of action.  Being intimately acquainted with nobility and court protocol, we were naturally concerned about the proper approach to this new born King; for we saw ourselves not only as individuals, but as representatives of our various countries and cultures.  With this in mind we wanted to present our gifts in an honorable fashion and in a way in which they would not be misunderstood.

Gaspar brought gold from the great mines of Egypt.  Melchior intended to offer the exotic gift of frankincense, a very sweet spice which was highly valued in his country.  And I, Balthazzar, proudly revealed a great vial of myrrh, an aromatic resin from the bark of one of our thorny African trees and used only in the courts of kings as a fragrant incense.

It was decided that we would leave our entourage of servants behind, taking only our camels and our gifts, allowing the star to guide us to the dwelling place of the young King.  Under other circumstances we would have delighted in a great deal more pomp and circumstance.  But this was no normal ceremonial occasion.

Unusual as it may sound, the simplicity of the occasion had the effect of heightening our anticipation, giving us the feeling that we were to be part of some sort of great cosmic drama.  And so it seemed appropriate to approach that simple dwelling with humility rather than ostentation.

Even though we had tried to be unobtrusive, camels have a way of attracting attention.  Someone had apparently spread word of our presence, for Joseph was prepared to greet us in a warm and most friendly manner.  It was apparent that he was somewhat accustomed to strange visitors.  I know you must be waiting for my description of that dramatic moment when we first saw the Babe -- when as the Bible says, “We fell down and worshiped him.”  That’s true as far as it goes; but you have to admit at times your Bible comes across a bit overly dramatic.

We certainly did kneel and offer the appropriate homage initially.  However, the effect on me personally (and I cannot speak for Melchior and Gaspar) was that I had the strange compulsion to lift the child and throw him high in the air, watching him giggle and laugh, and seeing his eyes dance.  This young child, now no longer a babe but a young infant, invited the closeness of contact rather than the remoteness of worship.  You can be sure that we conducted ourselves with all due respect, but perhaps the remark which Gaspar whispered into the ears of Melchior can give you a feeling for the human attraction we felt to this child.  Shortly after seeing him, Gaspar whispered to Melchior much too loudly for my comfort, “He’s somewhat fat, isn’t he?”  You see, we found no halo over the head of the Christ Child, only the warm invitation of authentic humanity.

After having made such a long journey, our time with the young King was too short.  And it wasn’t long before once again our caravans dotted the roads of Palestine moving eastward.

This journey had been a hard and bitter agony for all of us -- like death, our death.  We returned to our palaces and our kingdoms, but we could no longer be at ease in the old patterns of life.

We found ourselves at home again, but it seemed that we were strangers in a strange land.  Just as we had been strangers in the hills of Palestine -- so it seemed that we had returned to an alien people, a people whom we found clutching their gods, preoccupied with self-interest, intoxicated with luxury, and blind to the presence of the Savior of the world.

Perhaps I really did die on that journey.  Perhaps Bethlehem really did make a difference in my life.  Certainly what had previously seemed important to me now paled in significance under the light of the star and the promised kingdom of peace and love.  May it be so for each of us as we celebrate the birth of this one who changed the world.

Amen.