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Midrashic Magi Number
4
We tend to think of biblical interpretation as something that experts
do. Translators who can parse the Greek and Hebrew, theologians whose
interpretations are informed by Barth and Buber, historians, anthropologists,
and archaeologists who can unpack the historical context.
But, biblical interpretation is something we all do. Think about it, Christmas pageants, the
marking of doorways at Epiphany, the weekly sharing of bread and wine--all of
these are interpretations which bring the scripture to life within our context
and give us an opportunity to experience in real time a story which emerged in
ancient times. But, that doesn’t mean
these interpretations are accurate.
Our annual Christmas pageant is a prime example--it is a mishmash of
Luke and Matthew’s infancy narratives with the occasional dinosaur added to the
traditional mix of stable animals and a donkey that doesn’t actually exist in
the Bible. But, that doesn’t make this telling of the story wrong, what it does
do is tell us that we are constantly engaging with scripture with our
imagination. And, the use of imagination in interpreting scripture is a
valuable part of our tradition!
The tradition of telling stories about stories in the Bible is an
ancient one. In the Jewish tradition these are called midrash aggadah. Some of
them they add commentary “between the lines” of scripture. Others give names to
biblical ancestors the Bible has left nameless. Still others, wrestle with
questions of right and wrong when the Bible presents a particularly thorny
text.
And, even tho’ these stories aren’t scripture, many of them have been
given authority within our own tradition. The donkey in the pageant was never
in the Bible, but you CAN find it in the protoevangelium of James; the three
kings were not kings, at least not until Tertullian and Origen said so in the
third century. Yet, here we are—enjoying creative interpretations and re-imaginings
that seem essential to our understanding of what the Bible says, and yet were
never what the Bible said!
This does not make these stories wrong however—rather it enriches the
biblical story in ways that spark our imagination and deepen our faith. Stories
about stories in the Bible, in some ways, are as essential as the biblical
story itself.
Think about how children play—their wonderings and imaginings, their
pretending and their dreams. Battles between good and evil, epic quests, and
tales of salvation are the bread and butter, day to day, of childhood—and are
essential to the development of self-understanding. Our imagination is a gift
we have that, well used, helps us to understand the world and our place in it. So,
bring on the inaccurate donkeys!
Speaking of inaccurate donkeys…let’s talk about the three wise men.
Scripture does not give them camels or even names. I have no idea where
the camels came from, but I can tell you that they were given names in the 8th
century. This is also when the teachings of the church ascribed countries of
origin to each Magi— Balthasar from Ethiopia, Melchior from Persia, Gaspar from
India. Their provenance helped our ancestors in the faith to understand the
universalism of Christ. This is a Christ for all, a baby whose birth transforms
not just one place but all of creation.
Many of us came to know the magi not through the biblical text, but
through the hymn that begins, “we three kings of orient are”. But, they were
not kings nor of Orient, they were something akin to astrologers. But, the
third century church ascribed them kingship—heeding to the psalm, “The kings of
Tarshish and of the isles shall pay tribute, and the kings of Arabia and Saba
offer gifts.”
So, given the already well accepted elaborations on the text, allow me
to introduce you to Midrashic Magi Number 4…
In the latter part of the 19th century, a man named Henry Van
Dyke wrote a short story called “the other Magi” which features the journey of
a fourth magi.
You know the story of the Three Wise Men of
the East, and how they travelled from far away to offer their gifts at the
manger-cradle in Bethlehem. But have you ever heard the story of the Other Wise
Man?
Have you ever heard? And with this, the story commences and we are
introduced to Artaban, the other magi.
The essayist tells us that Artaban is an astrologer—and, in his careful
observation of the stars, he sees portents of a new king. Inspired by his
discovery, he shares the news with his fellow magi and they decide to seek out
this new king.
Artaban’s journey begins like that of the other magi. However, his
pilgrimage soon takes a turn as Artaban is delayed, again and again, by people
in need. Each time, sacrificing one of his treasures, treasures he’d reserved
for the king, in order to save others. Van Dyke’s text is flowery, but poignant,
How could he stay here in the darkness to
minister to a dying stranger? What claim had this unknown fragment of human
life upon his compassion or his service? If he lingered but for an hour he
could hardly reach Borsippa at the appointed time. His companions would think
he had given up the journey. They would go without him. He would lose his
quest.
And yet, he stops, and the man’s life is saved—but this is just the
first of the many encounters that will delay Artaban, the other wise man,
So I saw the other wise man again and again,
travelling from place to place, and searching among the people of the
dispersion, with whom the little family from Bethlehem might, perhaps, have
found a refuge…yet, in all this populous and intricate world of anguish, though
he found none to worship, he found many to help. He fed the hungry, and clothed
the naked, and healed the sick, and comforted the captive
Over the course of his journey, Artaban is not only delayed but he
sacrifices all of his treasures—first a sapphire which he sells when he
provides care to the dying man; then a ruby which he uses to bribe Herod’s
soldiers and save the life of a child; and then, a pearl...
For thirty-three years he has pursued rumors of the King and has kept
this last of his treasure to offer in worship of him. At last, he draws near once
more and finds himself at the foot of a hill, a hill called Golgotha. At last
he will meet the King!
But, at the foot of a hill a girl is held captive—and Artaban pauses
once more.
The pearl is enough. And she is set free.
And this is where Artaban’s journey ends. He has no gift left to give
the king he long sought. The sapphire given for the sick, the ruby for the persecuted,
the pearl for the captive—leaving nothing for the King.
Yet, Artaban’s failure in the story proves his success, for, in giving
to those in need he has given to Jesus the Christ. The story concludes with
Artaban’s realization that in serving others he has indeed met Christ,
" I say unto thee, Inasmuch as thou hast
done it unto one of the
least of these my brethren, thou hast done it
unto me._"
And, thus ends the story of the “other” wise man.
A story told NOT for biblical accuracy, but to reinforce the biblical teaching
that revelation is interconnected with liberation. A teaching we heard today,
proclaimed in scripture! Revelation cannot be separated from the work of
liberation.
So, no, the story of the 4th wise man is not biblical—but,
then again, neither are the camels. My hope is that this story will inspire you
to consider the gifts you might bring in service to others. The gifts you might
share to serve God through serving God’s children. On this Epiphany, I pray
that our imaginative interpretations may be a vehicle for our own transformation--leading
us to discover Christ and our calling once more.
Amen.
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