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December 27, 2009 Sermon

The Fourth Magi (Matthew 2: 1-12)

Rev. Sally Harris

Most people think that there were only three Magi, but I know differently. I was the fourth. Oh I wasn’t really a magi – just an apprentice. I used to clean the shop, feed the camels, put the books back in the library. I had only just turned twelve when Balthazar saw a new star rising at dawn one morning. We were all very excited for the senior magi knew right away that it was the sign they had been waiting for - a star which told of the birth of a baby born to bring good news to all the world. A baby born to be a different kind of king. A baby that would somehow show us God. Well preparations were made quickly for the journey to Palestine. I was too young to know how the senior magi knew the baby would be found there. I just knew they were headed for Jerusalem and of course that I was going too. But, at the last moment, I was left behind. They said, I was too young, the way was long and hard and besides someone had to stay home and mind the shop. I was most upset. I felt something very special was happening, something in which I just had to participate. Three days after the magi left I could stand it no longer. All I had was my little donkey – they had taken the camels of course. I had no expensive gift to take, only three silver coins. But I closed up shop and set off for Jerusalem. I, too, wanted to see this thing that had come to pass – to find the baby.

The way was not easy. I was often hungry and thirsty and very tired. Still I kept on. One day, as I was passing a small hut set in the lee of some hills, I heard weeping. Tying my donkey to a bush, I stooped through the low doorway and entered. Inside was an old woman, crying. "My son is dead," she sobbed. "All I have left is a small herd of goats. Without my son to tend them, the goats will run away and then I shall starve and die myself." What could I do? I wanted so much to get to Jerusalem, but I couldn’t leave her to die! "Don’t worry," I said. "I will stay and tend the goats. And I will take care of you." For ten years, I stayed with the old woman and I came to love her as if she was my own mother. I had to spend one of my silver coins to buy a few things to make her last years comfortable. I wept when she finally died. By now, I was twenty-two but still I yearned to go to Jerusalem and find the one who was born to be a different kind of king.

Off I set again, this time on a horse I had obtained in trade for the goats. Over mountains and across rivers I traveled on my way. One day, as I was fording a small stream, ferocious-looking armed men suddenly surrounded me. They pulled me off my horse and with a dagger to my throat, demanded: "Are you not an official of the hated King Darius?" "No," I protested, "I am only an apprentice magi." And I told them my story. They apologized for their mistake and said “King Darius has invaded our land and enslaved our people. We are guerilla fighters, pledged to win back our people’s freedom. We are sorry; you may go." I mounted my horse and was about to set off when I heard a moan from a tent set back in the trees. I rode over and looked in. The tent was full of wounded soldiers – no doctor, no medicine, not even beds to lie on. What could I do? I wanted to get to Jerusalem but I could not leave these people without at least trying to help. The Magi had taught me something of medicine and how to care for the sick – I had to stay. For ten years, I was doctor to the guerilla army. I even had to spend my second silver piece to buy medicine. Finally, the war of liberation was over. The people were free and I could go on my way.

Off I set again for Jerusalem to find the one born to be a different kind of king. Two weeks later I caught up with a man carrying a baby and leading two young children by the hand. Wearily they trudged along the dusty road. "What happened sir?" I asked. "Why are you all alone with these children on the edge of the desert?" "My name is Nuko," the man replied. "We were moving to a new town when our caravan was attacked by fierce desert raiders. We hid in a ravine. Many were killed. All our belongings were stolen and my wife was carried off into slavery. We are going to look for her. We cannot leave her in slavery!" "I will come with you and help with the children while you search," I said. So I did. For ten years, we searched and I became part of this family – we loved each other very much. Finally, one day, in the market place of a strange town, we came upon a slave auction. You can imagine our surprise and our joy when Nuko saw his wife on the auction platform. I bought her freedom with my last piece of silver. But it was worth it and more, to see the happiness of my adopted family. With tears of joy and sadness I said good bye and set off again on my journey. Still I must find the one I was looking for; still I must find the one born to be a different kind of king.

Finally, I came to Jerusalem. It was springtime and the leaves on the trees, the flowers, the fresh green grass were all very beautiful. There was a festival in progress. I think they called it "Passover." As soon as I entered the city, I asked the first person I came to: "Have you heard about a different kind of king?" "No, go away we have enough to deal with when the Romans come around – they are our rulers, actually more like our owners…." No one wanted to talk to me. There was tension in the air and anger about the temple authorities, the Roman rulers and about almost everything. After asking several people one person said to me, "You must mean one of those messiah types. They are worse than the Romans – full of false promises, getting us all excited over nothing." "Yes," another person shouted, "I think they are crowning a king right now – The King of the Jews. Go out through the north gate – to the Skull Hill. You’ll find the King of the Jews on his throne, all right!" and he laughed in an ugly sort of way. Curious I went through the city, out the north gate and onto a bare, rocky hill. There, to my horror, I found three men hanging, each on a cross. Over the center cross was a sign that read: "Here is the King of the Jews." I couldn’t believe my eyes, that people could be so cruel. I went closer, up to the feet of the dying man. As I looked at him, his eyes opened. They were so full of suffering, and yet so full of love. I knew that I had found the one I had been searching for. "I have come too late," I cried, "Foolishly I wasted my time; foolishly I have wasted my money. If only I had my three pieces of silver left I could buy you down off this cross!" He looked down at me and whispered: "You are not too late, my beloved. Remember the old woman and her goats, remember the wounded, and remember Nuko, his children, his wife. Everything you did for the least of these my sisters and brothers, you did for me. Understand that and you are wise indeed. You have given the greatest gift of all – you have given yourself to those who hurt; you have given yourself to me on your pilgrimage to Bethlehem!"

[Resource: an adapted version of The Fourth Wise Man by Thomas Harding based on Henry Van Dyke’s story The Other Wise Man]

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