The Magi Returned Another Way

J.C. Leyendecker cover for Success Magazine, 1906. 

On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route.

– Matthew 2:11-12
 

I love getting emails from Queer Theology. They always make me think, and sometimes they become inspiration for my Sunday posts. This week’s devotional is so perfectly worded, that I did not need to adapt it to my experiences. Often, their emails are geared more towards transgender individuals but can be adapted for all of us. Like I stated before, this one needed no adaptation, but there were a few things I wanted to add to it, so you will see that in italics. The rest was written by Brian G. Murphy, the Co-Founder of Queer Theology. As a historian, I find the story of the wise men to be particularly fascinating, mostly because of the inaccuracies most often portrayed in imagery of the wise men. At the end, you will see my own commentary about the wise men.

The nativity story has a message that LGBTQ+ Christians (and our allies) need to hear.

The scene of the “wise men” coming to visit the baby Jesus is imprinted on our collective consciousness—whether from church pageants or Christmas movies or front yard nativity scenes. In most tellings of this tale, the wise men are supporting characters. They are there to reinforce the magnificence of Jesus. They arrive and then they disappear, never to be heard from again. The story of Matthew’s Gospel follows Jesus, not these travelers.

But let’s stick with them for a moment.

These Magi (whom patriarchy reinterprets as men) see a new star in the sky and are moved to find out what it means.

They set out to find the one whose birth the star announces. And they find Jesus.

The author of Matthew’s Gospel is laying out his case that right from the beginning, there was something special about Jesus. Even Magi in a foreign land recognized him as King of the Jews. Jesus, not Caesar, is king, the gospel writer is emphasizing here; a treasonous claim.

The wise travelers could have encountered the baby Jesus and gone back home, from whence they came. That’s what many of us do. For instance, we are stirred to attend a Black Lives Matter march or Pride protest by current events, and then a few months later, our lives slide back to normal.

That’s not what happens here, though. The Magi have an encounter with Jesus that so transforms them that they cannot possibly go home the way they came. They are changed. They “returned by another route.”

Has that happened to you? You encountered something so meaningful that you could not help but be changed by it? Your life could not help but be eternally altered?

Perhaps it was the first time you met a transgender person and you realized “Hot damn! That could be me?!”

Or maybe it was an injustice that cemented your calling as an activist or ally.

Perhaps it was your first queer kiss, when you realized there was no denying it any longer.

We are all shaped by our life experiences. With a little bit of distance, we can sometimes see just how big a difference the smallest moment made. In the hustle and bustle of life, it’s easy to miss them, to let them pass by without a second thought.

What if you took some time to see—truly see—the moments that shaped you? To think about that time on the dance floor or the church retreat or the picket line or summer camp or whatever it might be for you. And to name it holy. To remember that there you encountered the divine and were forever changed. (Want some help seeing how the Gospel is queer? Check this out)

These moments aren’t limited to your past. There are “manger moments” waiting ahead of you, if only you’ll pay attention. If only you’ll see the star in the sky and follow your curiosity and see where it leads and be open to being transformed by what you find there.

Onward you go, in a new direction.

If you enjoyed this reflection, there are 39 more where it came from in Queers The Word: a 40 day devotional for LGBTQ+ Christians. You can learn more, read some reviews, and pick up a copy here.
 

Waiting with you,
Brian
Brian G. Murphy
Co-Founder, Spiritual Practices Coach
connect@queertheology.com

Facebook | Twitter | Tumblr | YouTube | Instagram

Traditional nativity scenes depict three “Wise Men” visiting the infant Jesus on the night of his birth in a manger accompanied by the shepherds and angels, but this should be understood as an artistic convention allowing the two separate scenes of the Adoration of the Shepherds on the birth night and the later Adoration of the Magi to be combined for convenience. The single biblical account in Matthew 2 simply presents an event at an unspecified point after Christ’s birth in which “wise men” visits Him in a house, not a stable. The text also does not specify the length of time between the birth of Christ and the Magi’s visit. Artistic depictions and the closeness of the traditional dates of December 25 and January 6 (Epiphany or Three Kings’ Day) encourage the widespread assumption that the visit took place the same winter as the birth, but later traditions varied, with the visit taken as occurring up to two winters later. This maximum interval explained Herod’s command in Matthew 2:16–18 that the Massacre of the Innocents included boys up to two years old. It’s always been my belief that the Magi visited Jesus sometime before he turned two years old.

Many of the stories we so popularly see about the Magi depicted in paintings and nativities are most likely inaccurate. Even the name “magi” was conceived later. The “wise men” may have been magi, and if they were, they were priests from another monotheistic religion. The term “magi” refers to the Persian priestly caste of Zoroastrianism. These priests paid particular attention to the stars as part of their religion. They gained an international reputation for astrology, which was at that time highly regarded as a science, and the reason why they would have seen the Star of Bethlehem as a sign of a significant birth, that birth being the King of Kings, the Jewish Messiah. 

Although the Magi are commonly referred to as “kings,” nothing in the account from the Gospel of Matthew implies that they were rulers of any kind. The identification of the Magi as kings is linked to Old Testament prophecies that describe the Messiah being worshipped by kings in Isaiah 60:3, Psalm 68:29, and Psalm 72:10, which reads, “Yea, all kings shall fall down before him: all nations serve him.” Early readers reinterpreted Matthew in light of these prophecies and elevated the Magi to kings. 

The New Testament does not give the names of the Magi nor how many Magi visited Jesus. There is no evidence that there were three wise men. This belief has always been conjectured from the three gifts given to Christ. There had to be at least two because the gospel uses the plural, but the exact number is never specified. However, traditions and legends identify a variety of different names for them. In the Western Christian church, they have all been regarded as saints and are commonly known as Melchior, a Persian scholar; Caspar; and Balthazar, a Babylonian scholar. According to Western church tradition, Balthasar is often represented as a king of Arabia or sometimes Ethiopia, Melchior as a king of Persia, and Gaspar as a king of India.

I could also go into detail about the reasoning behind the three gifts, gold, frankincense, and myrrh; however, I’ve gone on about the Magi for too long already. It does, however, show that what we commonly believe about the birth of Christ has little to do with what is in the Bible. Many Churches of Christ, including the one I grew up in, do not celebrate Christmas (though we did outside of church, just not as part of an official church gathering). The date of Jesus’ birth is not given, and it could just as easily been in the summer as in the winter. The celebration of Christmas started in Rome about 336 CE, but it did not become a major Christian festival until the 9th century. The origins of Christmas stem from both the pagan and Roman cultures. The Romans actually celebrated two holidays in the month of December. The first was Saturnalia, which was a two-week festival honoring their god of agriculture Saturn. On December 25th, they celebrated the birth of Mithra, their sun god. The early Church used the dates of local traditions, holidays, and festivals to set dates for religious holidays as a way to appeal to a wider group of people.


Pic of the Day


Moment of Zen: Pineapple


Pic of the Day: Vintage Christmas Edition


A Pain in the…

…hand and neck and shoulder and hip, but mostly in my right hand.

I had to go to the clinic my university uses for worker’s comp. What a nightmare! Actually, it wasn’t too bad, but I was there for over three hours and then had to go over to the hospital for x-rays. The provider I saw at the clinic was supposed to call me yesterday afternoon with the result. She never called. However, because I use MyChart for my doctor and the hospital is part of the same network as him (all under the University of Vermont), I received the radiology report. I had to look up most of the words in the gobbledygook that was in the report, but I apparently have a small fracture in my right wrist. My other aches and pains appear to be bruises and muscle strain. Hopefully, I’ll hear from the clinic this morning. Because of the impending snowstorm, I’m not for sure if I’ll go into work today or not. It’s according to how much snow is on my car when it’s time to leave. If there is a fair amount, I won’t be able to go in because I won’t be able to clean it off one handed, or at least not one handed with my left hand. I use my right hand for most everything.


Pic of the Day

Ho Ho Ho


Pic of the Day

While I know that the 12 Days of Christmas are the twelve days after Christmas, I enjoy posting Christmas photos for the twelve days leading up to Christmas. Here is Day 1.


Nothing

I really don’t have anything worth writing today. I had a migraine yesterday, and I’d just like to stay in bed today. I have to work today though because I have a meeting at 11. Such is life.


Pic of the Day


The Shivering Beggar

The Shivering Beggar
By Robert Graves – 1895-1985

Near Clapham village, where fields began,
Saint Edward met a beggar man.
It was Christmas morning, the church bells tolled,
The old man trembled for the fierce cold.

Saint Edward cried, “It is monstrous sin
A beggar to lie in rags so thin!
An old gray-beard and the frost so keen:
I shall give him my fur-lined gaberdine.”

He stripped off his gaberdine of scarlet
And wrapped it round the aged varlet,
Who clutched at the folds with a muttered curse,
Quaking and chattering seven times worse.

Said Edward, “Sir, it would seem you freeze
Most bitter at your extremities.
Here are gloves and shoes and stockings also,
That warm upon your way you may go.”

The man took stocking and shoe and glove,
Blaspheming Christ our Saviour’s love,
Yet seemed to find but little relief,
Shaking and shivering like a leaf.

Said the saint again, “I have no great riches,
Yet take this tunic, take these breeches,
My shirt and my vest, take everything,
And give due thanks to Jesus the King.”

The saint stood naked upon the snow
Long miles from where he was lodged at Bowe,
Praying, “O God! my faith, it grows faint!
This would try the temper of any saint.

“Make clean my heart, Almighty, I pray,
And drive these sinful thoughts away.
Make clean my heart if it be Thy will,
This damned old rascal’s shivering still!”

He stooped, he touched the beggar man’s shoulder;
He asked him did the frost nip colder?
“Frost!” said the beggar, “no, stupid lad!
’Tis the palsy makes me shiver so bad.”

About the Poem

The Saint Edward referred to in this poem is Edward the Confessor (c. 1003 – 5 January 1066), one of the last Anglo-Saxon English kings. As king, Edward developed a reputation for living a simple, pious lifestyle and being generous with the poor. Some reports indicate that he longed for a monastic life and took a vow of celibacy, as he and his wife never had children. He was associated with legends including a story from towards the end of his life. Edward was riding by a church in Essex and an old man asked for alms. As the king had no money to give, he drew a large ring off his finger and gave this to the beggar. A few years later two pilgrims were travelling in the Holy Land and became stranded. They were helped by an old man, and when he knew they came from England, he told them he was St John the Evangelist and asked them to return the ring to Edward telling him that in six months he would join him in heaven. The story is one of fourteen scenes from the king’s life – real and legendary – carved on a mid-15th-century stone screen in Westminster Abbey. Also shown are his birth, his coronation, Christ appearing to Edward at Mass, and the dedication of a church, assumed to be the Abbey.

While Edward spent much of his life in exile in France, particularly Normandy, Edward’s love for the region of his childhood can be seen in one of his greatest architectural achievements, the building of Westminster Abbey. The story goes that Edward vowed that if he should return safely from exile in Normandy to his kingdom, he would make a pilgrimage to St Peter’s, Rome. But once on the throne he found it impossible to leave his subjects, and the Pope released him from his vow on condition that he should found or restore a monastery to St Peter. This led to the building of a new church in the Norman style to replace the Saxon church at Westminster. 

The king’s piety had greatly endeared him to his people, and he came to be regarded as a saint long before he was officially canonized as Saint and Confessor by Pope Alexander III in 1161. His nickname reflects the traditional image of him as unworldly and pious. Edward’s reputation for piety and charity was widespread, and he was viewed with great veneration, even being considered a patron saint of England. In 1139, the prior of Westminster Abbey traveled to Rome to ask the pope to canonize Edward, but the appeal was rejected amid political disputes. Edward was buried in Westminster Abbey, which was completed shortly before his death. His body remains there today, although the abbey is now an Anglican church.

About the Poet

On July 24, 1895, Robert Graves was born in Wimbledon, near London. His father, Alfred Perceval Graves, was a Gaelic scholar and minor Irish poet. His mother, Amalie von Ranke Graves, was a relation of Leopold von Ranke, one of the founding fathers of modern historical studies. One of ten children, Robert was greatly influenced by his mother’s puritanical beliefs and his father’s love of Celtic poetry and myth. As a young man, he was more interested in boxing and mountain climbing than studying, although poetry later sustained him through a turbulent adolescence. Graves received his early education at a series of six preparatory schools, including King’s College School in Wimbledon, Penrallt in Wales, Hillbrow School in Rugby, Rokeby School in Kingston upon Thames and Copthorne in Sussex, from which last in 1909 he won a scholarship to Charterhouse.

Robert Graves was bisexual, having intense romantic relationships with both men and women, though the word he coined for it was “pseudo-homosexual.” Graves was raised to be “prudishly innocent, as my mother had planned I should be.” His mother, Amy, forbade speaking about sex, save in a “gruesome” context, and all skin “must be covered.” At his days in Penrallt, he had “innocent crushes” on boys; one in particular was a boy named Ronny, who “climbed trees, killed pigeons with a catapult and broke all the school rules while never seeming to get caught.” At Charterhouse, an all-boys school, it was common for boys to develop “amorous but seldom erotic” relationships, which the headmaster mostly ignored. Graves described boxing with a friend, Raymond Rodakowski, as having a “a lot of sex feeling.” And although Graves admitted to loving Raymond, he would dismiss it as “more comradely than amorous.” In his fourth year at Charterhouse, Graves met “Dick” (George “Peter” Harcourt Johnstone) with whom he would develop “an even stronger relationship.” Johnstone was an object of adoration in Graves’s early poems. 

In 1913 Graves won a scholarship to continue his studies at St. John’s College, Oxford, but in August 1914 he enlisted as a junior officer in the Royal Welch Fusiliers. He fought in the Battle of Loos and was injured in the Somme offensive in 1916. While convalescing, he published his first collection of poetry, Over the Brazier. By 1917, though still an active serviceman, Graves had published three volumes. In 1918, he spent a year in the trenches, where he was again severely wounded.

During the war, Johnstone remained a “solace” to Graves. Despite Graves’s own “pure and innocent” view of Johnstone, Graves’s cousin Gerald wrote in a letter that Johnstone was: “not at all the innocent fellow I took him for, but as bad as anyone could be”. Johnstone remained a subject for Graves’s poems despite this. Communication between them ended when Johnstone’s mother found their letters and forbade further contact with Graves. Johnstone would later be arrested for attempting to seduce a Canadian soldier, which removed Graves’s denial about Johnstone’s infidelity, causing Graves to collapse.

In January 1918, at the age of twenty-two, he married eighteen-year-old Nancy Nicholson, with whom he was to have four children. Traumatized by the war, he went to Oxford with his wife and took a position at St. John’s College. Graves’s early volumes of poetry, like those of his contemporaries, deal with natural beauty and bucolic pleasures, and with the consequences of the First World War. Over the Brazier and Fairies and Fusiliers earned Graves his reputation as an accomplished war poet. After meeting the American poet and theorist Laura Riding in 1926, Graves’s poetry underwent a significant transformation. 

In 1927, Graves and his first wife separated permanently, and in 1929 he published Goodbye to All That, an autobiography that announced his psychological accommodation with the residual horror of his war experiences. Shortly afterward, he departed to Majorca with Laura Riding. In addition to completing many books of verse while in Majorca, Graves also wrote several volumes of criticism, some in collaboration with Riding. During that period, he evolved his theory of poetry as spiritually cathartic to both the poet and the reader. Although Graves claimed that he wrote novels only to earn money, it was through these that he attained status as a major writer in 1934, with the publication of the historical novel I, Claudius, and its sequel, Claudius the God and His Wife Messalina. (During the 1970’s, the BBC adapted the novels into an internationally popular television series.)

At the onset of the Spanish Civil War in 1936, Graves and Riding fled Majorca, eventually settling in America. In 1939, Laura Riding left Graves for the writer Schuyler Jackson; one year later Graves began a relationship with Beryl Hodge that was to last until his death. 

After World War II, Graves returned to Majorca, where he lived with Hodge and continued to write. By the 1950s, Graves had won an enormous international reputation as a poet, novelist, literary scholar, and translator. In 1962, W. H. Auden went as far as to assert that Graves was England’s “greatest living poet.” From 1961 to 1966, Graves returned to England to serve as a professor of poetry at Oxford. In the 1970s his productivity fell off; and the last decade of his life was lost in silence and senility. Robert Graves died in Majorca in 1985, at the age of ninety.