Читать книгу Reading the Bible Badly - Karl Allen Kuhn - Страница 9

Few things are more typical of the celebration of Christmas by American Christians than children’s Christmas programs.

Shepherds, sheep, a donkey, the angelic host, three wise men. Center stage, underneath a glittering star and illuminated with a golden glow, nestle Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus. There may be variations in the sophistication of the set. The number of peripheral characters may change, depending on how many children are attending Sunday school that year or which costumes are easiest to fashion in haste (those angel wings can be a chore!). Perhaps the Little Drummer Boy joins the crowd (Pa-rum pum pum pum). Perhaps—and I cringe as I write this—Santa makes an appearance, dancing across the chancel and tossing out candy canes while screaming “Merry Christmas!” Understandably, this is the moment when babies start to cry.

Children’s Christmas programs. What a strange rite of the church year to put ourselves through! Of all the burdens we place on our Sunday school teachers, this has to be one of the worst. The planning, the preparing, the props, the politics (“I was really counting on my Jimmy being Joseph this year! He was a shepherd last year!”). But in many congregations, this strange rite has become a sacred one. It has become central to their celebration of Christmas. Christmas would simply not be the same without it.

But perhaps this could actually be a good thing—to not have Christmas be the same, at least our Christmases.

What would it be like, I wonder, to celebrate and remember the birth of Christ in the way it was celebrated and remembered by his earliest followers and the Gospel writers? What would it be like to read the Christmas stories in Luke and Matthew’s gospels mindful of the kinds of realities, experiences, and yearnings of those who first encountered them? What would it be like to honor the memory of these spiritual ancestors who composed, wrote down, and passed along these stories to us?

I think it would change the way we understand, and celebrate, the miracle of Jesus’ birth.

Misremembering Christmas

Most of our children’s Christmas programs, like our nativity scenes, Christmas cards, and many of the ways our culture observes Christmas, are clear manifestations of how we misremember Christmas. This is not a new observation or complaint.11 For years, Christians across the theological spectrum have decried the commercialized perversion that Christmas in America has become. We have seen the slogans: “Jesus is the reason for the season.” “Keep CHRIST in CHRISTmas!” There is certainly some merit to this criticism and these tag lines.

The reason for the Christmas season, at least the original reason, is a far, far cry from shopping malls, ugly sweaters, Chia Pets, a new Lexus, and kneeling Santas. But the reason for the season is also quite different from the messaging of our children’s Christmas programs (if they even have a message) and what many American Christians celebrate about Christmas. Two particular tendencies in how we tell the story of Jesus’ advent serve as troubling examples of we misremember Christmas, of how our reading lenses do not allow us to see the story of Jesus’ advent clearly.

First Tendency: Forgetting a Main Character

Keep Christ in Christmas. Yes, that would be a good thing. But it would also be a good thing to keep Caesar in Christmas.

Caesar? You mean the guy who ordered the census? What a bit role! We never even cast him in our Christmas programs.

Perhaps you should.

Our remembrances of Jesus’ birth commonly include details from both Matthew’s and Luke’s accounts, the two Gospels that contain birth narratives.12 But it is Luke’s gospel that has the most extensive birth narrative and provides the basic outline many of us follow when retelling the story of Jesus’ birth. Beginning in Luke 2 we read:

1In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3All went to their own towns to be registered. 4Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

8In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

14 “Glory to God in the highest heaven,

and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

Note the setting at the start of Luke’s account. We are in the throne room of Rome! Caesar Augustus, Sovereign of the Roman Empire (which includes all of the Mediterranean world and Israel) commands that “all the world be registered” (v. 1).

Many readers of this story, including some scholars, don’t pay much attention to the mention of Caesar and the census, thinking that the role of these details is simply to provide a chronological marker for Jesus’ birth. To be sure, this may be one reason Luke includes the reference to Caesar, as suggested further by v. 2. But it is not the only or even the main reason. There are several other details from these opening verses and the remainder of Luke’s story that indicate that Caesar, and his rule, function as a counterpoint to Jesus and what God will accomplish through him.

In other words, one of the main reasons Luke tells this story is to draw a stark contrast between Jesus and Caesar, and between the two realms that each is seeking to establish. Luke wants to make clear to his readers that Jesus, not Caesar, is the true Lord and Savior of all. He wants to make clear that Jesus, not Caesar, rules on behalf of God.

If this description of Luke’s birth story seems a bit strange to you, I understand. Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth is not the “Christmas Story” you have come to know. This is not a cozy up to the Christmas tree with a mug of hot chocolate, warm and fuzzy, feel good kind of story. This is not a “weren’t those little angels just adorable and little Jimmy so cute in his shepherd outfit” kind of story.

Rather, the story of Jesus’ birth as told by Luke is a dangerous, even treasonous tale. It is about lords being unmasked as the frauds they really are before the one truly sent by God to rule and serve. It is a story that claims that the world you know is about to be turned on its head.

Lens Adjustment: The Realm and Rule of Caesar

But before we can appreciate the edgy and even dangerous character of this tale told in Luke 2, before we can experience it in the way it was likely intended to be experienced by those who first told it, we need a lens adjustment. We need to become acquainted with the world in which it is set: the Roman world. We need to become familiar with the real-life realities confronting those who first told and heard this tale. We need to understand, in other words, their context.

You may be familiar with the real estate maxim: “location is everything.” When it comes to interpretation in general, and certainly interpretation of the Bible, this maxim applies: “context is (nearly) everything.” When we are ignorant of the context in which the biblical writings are set, we simply limit our ability to understand what those writings actually intended to say.

So, what follows is a lens adjustment needed to delve deeply and faithfully into the story of Jesus’ birth: a cursory, thumbnail sketch of Jesus’ world, drawing out those features that are most relevant for understanding Luke’s account (and really all of the New Testament).13

1 Caesar is a godly Lord and Rome a godly realmOne of the first things we need to get straight about the Roman world (though this is also true of most cultures throughout human history) is that within it, “religion” is inextricably intertwined with politics, economics, and social standing. Caesar, in other words, is not simply a “secular” ruler. The Roman empire was not a secular state. Rather, Caesar was a “religious” figure, and after his death he even became enshrined as one of the Roman deities. Temples were built in honor of him and the royal family. Sacrifices were offered to seek his ongoing patronage and blessing. Eventually, some Roman emperors, like Domitian (late first century CE), would claim to be divine even before their deaths.A central profession of Roman religion and of the “Imperial Cult” divinizing the emperors was that the Roman state and its leaders both existed and ruled with the assistance and approval of the gods. They ruled with a “divine mandate.” Caesar, in other words, enacted the will of heaven. Other Roman rulers, serving under Caesar’s authority, also enacted the will of heaven. Roman military, political, legal, and economic policy enacted the will of heaven. Things were the way they were because this was the world mandated by heaven. At least that is what those Romans benefiting from the status quo enthusiastically proclaimed.

2 Elite Privilege to the ExtremeAnd it is not hard to figure out why. Roman political and economic policy was an extraordinary source of blessing for an extraordinarily small proportion of the population. As declared by the anthropologist, G. E. M. de Ste. Croix, the Roman economy was “a massive system of exploitation of the great majority by the ruling class.”14 This ruling class, consisting of only 2 to 5 percent of the population, enacted economic hegemony through aggressive taxation, a market system that “nickled and dimed” the underclass through rents and tariffs, lending policies that routinely resulted in the foreclosure of peasant land holdings, and cheap labor in the form of institutionalized slavery, artisans, and agricultural workers.These policies, enforced by a bureaucratic system of officials, police and military who benefitted from their loyalty to the elite, ensured the flow of wealth and resources from the underclass to the very wealthy micro-minority. As a result, 2 to 5 percent of the population controlled about 60 to 65 percent of the empire’s resources, leaving 95 to 98 percent of the population the difficult task of getting by with the remaining 35 to 40 percent.

3 The Brutal Realities of Roman RuleNot surprisingly, for most within the Roman world, life was nasty, brutish, and short. In sharp contrast to the elite and the higher class officials keeping them in power, 75 to 85 percent of the population, consisting of peasants and slaves, oscillated near or below “subsistence.” This means that they suffered irregular access to adequate nutrition, water, hygiene, and secure shelter. The consequences of perpetually living on the edge were devastating.For most lower-class people who did make it to adulthood, their health would have been atrocious. By age thirty, the majority suffered from internal parasites, rotting teeth, and bad eyesight. Most had lived with the debilitating results of protein deficiency since childhood. Parasites were especially prevalent, being carried to humans by sheep, goats, and dogs. . . . If infant mortality rates, the age structure of the population, and pathological evidence from skeletal remains can be taken as indicators, malnutrition was a constant threat as well (Fiensy, 1991, 98).15Take note of these shocking figures offered by anthropologists: because of the way resources were distributed in the Roman world and the resulting poverty afflicting the overwhelming majority, the life expectancy of urban peasants was twenty-seven, and rural peasants thirty-two. Infant mortality rates were about 30 percent, and over half of all peasant children living past age one would fail to make it past age sixteen.16I’ll give you a second to absorb that.In short, many of the underclass were struggling to survive, their days filled with worry about the next harvest, the next tax, tribute, rent, or loan payment, and often the next meal. This was the world mandated by Caesar, and by the gods. This was the world the elite zealously and often brutally protected with their military might, police forces, prisons, and crosses. This was the lived reality of most of the earliest followers of Jesus.

4 More of the Same Among the People of GodThis very same exploitative economic and political system resulting in the tragically disparate distribution of resources was replicated within Israelite society. In reality, the rule and power of the Israelite elite was an extension of the rule and power of Rome. Herod the Great ruled over Israel from 37–34 BCE as a “client king” of the Roman emperors, and following him his descendants ruled in various capacities with the mandate of Rome. The Jerusalem temple was the center of the Judean economy until its destruction in 70 CE. It received tithes, offerings, and sacrifices from the populace, and also collected tribute for Rome, in exchange for its “brokerage” of divine forgiveness and blessing.17The economic benefits for the temple priesthood were significant, establishing them as members of the elite. Just like the Roman upper class, this priestly aristocracy acquired much of the arable land in the region through its own onerous lending policies and peasant foreclosure.18 And just like the Roman elite, the Israelite elite claimed that their rule and the current state of affairs were mandated by heaven, by God.

5 Yearning for the Kingdom of God

But many among the people of Israel living in Palestine and throughout the Mediterranean region did not buy into the elites’ claim that elite rule and the status quo were in tune with the will of God. Remember, among the vast majority of Israelites, half of their children who managed to live past age one would die before they reached age sixteen! As we would expect, many Israelites found this state of affairs unacceptable. Many of them claimed that Caesar and the Israelite elite ruled not with a divine mandate, but a demonic one. Their children were starving.

In protest against their lived reality, many Israelites in Jesus’ time, as did their ancestors, dared to hope for a day when Israel and all the world would become a realm governed by God’s intentions for humanity. They dared to hope for the arrival of God’s kingdom, in which the blessing God intended for humankind would finally be realized. To express such hope and to encourage one another, they told themselves “Kingdom of God Stories.” While these stories took various forms and could be told in many different ways, they nearly always revolved around three essential claims, or story lines:

1 The God of Israel is Creator and Master of all

2 The current state of the world violates God’s intentions for creation

3 God is coming to fix this, to save the faithful, and to return creation to a state of blessing

Within Israel’s sacred traditions (including what Christians refer to as the Old Testament), the abuse of Israel by foreign leaders, and their own leaders, are manifestations of a world gone horribly wrong.19 In the century leading up to the birth of Jesus, many within Israel were proclaiming Kingdom Stories in response to Roman rule and what they perceived as the corruption of Israel’s own rulers, especially the temple elite and those allied with them.20 Some Kingdom Stories, including those found among the Dead Sea Scrolls, regarded Roman and Israelite elite, and their followers, as the spawn of Satan. A day was arriving soon when these reprobates would be destroyed. God would establish a new Temple, a new people of Israel, who would share in God’s abundance.21

So, as we prepare to rejoin Luke’s infancy narrative, let’s quickly summarize the main points from our whirlwind tour of the realm of Rome.

1 In the Roman world, religion and politics mix, all the time. Rulers claim a divine mandate to rule, appealing to and even creating sacred ritual and tradition to validate their control of the economic and political mechanisms of empire.

2 Rome, like most ancient civilizations and many still today, cultivates a grossly unequal distribution of resources. This results in a very wealthy upper class who hoard most of that society’s resources.

3 The vast majority of the population suffers, and many suffer horribly, under the inequity and brutality of Roman rule.

4 Israelite elite are an extension of Roman rule. They are supposed to shepherd the people in ways of righteousness and be ministers of God’s blessings, but many use their positions to abuse and oppress.

5 Most within Israel, well before and during the time of Jesus, know that the current state of affairs is not okay with God. They earnestly hope that God will do something about it, and soon, and tell Kingdom Stories to express that hope and encourage one another.

This information about Jesus’ context is crucial for making sense of what Luke and the rest of the New Testament is trying to say about Jesus and the significance of his birth. And if you approach the passage with this information as part of your interpretive lens, then you can’t help but notice the significance of Caesar in this story. Allow me to repeat myself: most Israelites in the time of Jesus, knew that the current state of affairs was not okay with God, and earnestly hoped that God would do something about it, and soon. According to Luke and the other NT writers, that time has now come. Jesus is God’s answer to Caesar, the Israelite elite, and all that has gone desperately wrong with this world!

Let’s return to the story (perhaps go back and reread it before moving on).

Lord Caesar

Recall that as the passage opens, we are not in Israel. We are in Rome, in the palace of the emperor. We are likely meant to picture Caesar, menacing, seated on his throne.

For it is the one known throughout the Mediterranean region and beyond as Lord who speaks and moves “all the world” to action (2:1). Caesar Augustus orders a census to be taken. Caesar wants to take stock of his subjects and possessions, the objects of his rule and sources of revenue (think taxation). His word is spoken, his underlings such as Quirinius, Governor of Syria, make it happen. The rest of the world has no choice but to comply with this “penetrating symbol of Roman overlordship.” 22 And “all went to their own towns to be registered” (v. 3). As the scene now shifts to the dusty roads of the Israelite countryside, we learn that the father of Jesus is no exception: “Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem” (v. 4).

Note these repeated references to Caesar’s census in vv. 2–5. Nearly all the activity that occurs in this part of the story revolves around the need for people, including Joseph, to be registered. The Roman Emperor dominates the opening of the story. Caesar’s command rules the cosmos, or so it seems.23

Lowly Lord Jesus

But then Jesus is born. In simple, unadorned prose, we are told that Jesus is wrapped in bands of cloth, and laid in a feedbox “because there was no place for them in the inn” (2:7). Luke goes out of his way to emphasize the impoverished circumstances of Jesus and his parents. The “inn” (kataluma)—a sparse, hostel-like room for guests or travelers adjoining a house—is full. None move aside so that the very pregnant and eventually laboring Mary can give birth in the security of even these very meager quarters. So the young couple squeezes into a dirty, cramped, and likely ramshackle stable, delivers their child, employs a crap-encrusted feedbox for a crib, and wraps their child in scraps of spare cloth.24

The repeated references to the bands of cloth and manger and their function as the “sign” that identifies Jesus (2:7, 12, 16–17) keep these lowly elements in view even as he is exalted by the heavenly host and found by the shepherds. Luke’s recipients are confronted with an image of Israel’s Messiah that could not be more incongruous with the pomp and might of Emperor Augustus on his throne, commanding the world at will. Caesar and Jesus. Roman Emperor and Israelite peasant infant. One at the very top of the political and economic hierarchy of Rome, and the other among those at the bottom struggling to survive.

To be sure, the claim that the birth of this Israelite, peasant infant, and his manifestation in this desperate setting so far removed from the center of elite power, poses any sort of meaningful challenge to Caesar’s rule would be regarded by nearly all in first-century Rome as simply ludicrous. It is important that we appreciate this reality.

Yet, as the scene shifts again—from dark, dank stable to darkened field—it is this very claim that explodes into the night! The glory of God Most High engulfs a band of shepherds and a heavenly messenger stands among them to proclaim: “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” Then, adding a massive exclamation point to this startling message and most unexpected scene, as if to affirm that this really is taking place (as the shepherds rub their eyes in disbelief), an angelic host suddenly appears to announce: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” Here too we encounter another setting far removed from the domains of elite power. Shepherds, along with other agricultural workers, were among the large peasant class whose servitude fueled the economy of empire and hegemony of Roman rule. Yet is to these favored ones—and not to the Israelite priestly elite in Jerusalem—that glory of God appears. “God’s glory, normally associated with the temple, is now manifest on a farm!”25

Jesus, not Caesar, is Sovereign

The angelic proclamation about Jesus amplifies (in tandem with Luke 1:26–38) Jesus’ divine identity. The use of the titles “Savior” and “Lord” for Jesus is striking, for they are the same titles Israelites use for God. At the same time, these titles and other elements of the angles’ pronouncement compose a repudiation of Caesar and his reign. Luke shapes the angels’ testimony so that many of the things celebrated about Caesar and his birth by those allied with Rome are now attributed to this infant lying in a feedbox. In their decision to honor Augustus by beginning the new year on his birthday, the Roman provincial assembly announced,

Whereas the providence which divinely ordered our lives created with zeal and munificence the most perfect good for our lives by producing Augustus . . . for the benefaction of mankind, sending us a savior who put an end to war . . . and whereas the birthday of the god marked for the world the beginning of good tidings through his coming.26

The parallels to the angel’s announcement in 2:10–11 are apparent:

Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah Lord (my translation).

As Richard Horsley comments, “any reader or hearer of this story in the Hellenistic-Roman world, particularly in Palestine, would have understood here a direct opposition between Caesar, the savior who had supposedly brought peace, and the child proclaimed as the savior, whose birth means peace.”27

In not so subtle challenge to the prevailing Roman propaganda of the day, Luke dramatically relays this incredible claim: Jesus—the Israelite infant lying in a crusty feed box among sheep, goats, cattle, and fowl—undermines the might and authority of Caesar and Rome. Jesus is the one who is really hailed by heaven as “Savior” and “Lord” of all. In his humility and lowliness, he is the one who truly manifests the identity and power of God. For this reason, Jesus’ birthday, not Caesar’s, is good news for all of humankind. His reign, not Caesar’s, will lead the heavens to erupt in praise of God and the celebration of enduring peace: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those whom he favors” (vv. 13–14).

This, Luke shows, is how God’s plan for the redemption of Israel, and even all of humanity, unfolds. In this peasant infant, not Caesar nor any other, divine identity and purpose comes into the world and turns it upside down. Thus, already near the start of his narrative, Luke puts the recipients of his Kingdom Story on notice that what God does in Jesus significantly undermines all other claims to mastery over humankind. The true Lord has been born and revealed. Unlike Caesar and the “massive system of exploitation of the great majority by the ruling class” that he zealously directs and protects, the Lord Jesus will teach the world what it truly means to rule with the mandate of heaven, to rule with justice on behalf of the meek of the earth.

Reimagining the Birth of Jesus

Imagine a children’s Christmas program in which Caesar is a main character. Imagine a Christmas program that celebrates Jesus’ birth as an end to the political and economic exploitation of the underclass, and the hoarding of resources by a select few. Imagine a Children’s Christmas program which concludes not with “Away in a Manger” but with Mary’s hymn (Luke 1:46–55), in which she cries:

51 He has shown strength with his arm;

he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

52 He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

53 he has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty.

Then imagine yourself as an impoverished Israelite (or for that matter, an impoverished American) who has borne four children, and watched two of them succumb to disease or malnutrition or violence or injustice. Imagine what this Kingdom Story—told as it was meant to be—might mean for you.

And for those of us who are not dirt poor, who benefit from the patterns of privilege and resource distribution safeguarded by our status quo—what does this story mean for us?

Second Tendency: Misremembering Three Wise Men

The story of the magi in Matthew’s gospel (2:1–12) is one of the central narratives in the celebration of Jesus’ advent and the holy day of Epiphany immediately following the short Christmas season in the liturgical year. It has come to symbolize for Christians important elements of who we proclaim Jesus to be and what it means to follow Jesus. Yet this story serves as another example of how American Christians often misremember Christmas and forget something important about the kingdom of God.

1In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, 2asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” 3When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; 4and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. 5They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

6 ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

for from you shall come a ruler

who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

7 Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. 8Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” 9When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. 10When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. 11On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 12And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

Set in the opening pages of Matthew’s narrative, the account foreshadows what will become clear as the Gospel unfolds. These magi are Gentiles from distant lands. Perhaps framed by Matthew as a fulfillment of Isaiah 60:1–6, which speaks of non-Israelites journeying to Israel to behold and even participate in its restoration, these magi recognize the importance of this child and who he will become. This story introduces recipients of Matthew’s gospel to the profession that this child, Jesus, is to be Savior and Lord for all of humanity, Israelite and Gentile alike.

The magi also serve as an example of how to welcome the Christ child. The magi undertake an arduous journey from afar, compelled by their earnest desire to come before this new king. Upon seeing Jesus, they worship him and present him precious gifts. Their actions parallel those of others in the pages to follow who respond to Jesus with almost immediate trust and devotion.

And so, in their remembrance of this story, American Christians often emphasize that Jesus is Savior to all humankind, and celebrate those who embrace Jesus with eyes and hearts of faith. These are aspects of the story that are certainly good and faithful to remember. But they are not the whole story. Again, we need a lens adjustment in order to see this account more clearly.

Lens Adjustment: The Not So Three, or Wise, or Even Men

In our remembrance of the magi we tend to add several elements to their story that are actually not found in the Gospel of Matthew, the only Gospel which tells us about them. In Christian tradition, the magi are commonly regarded as kings: “We three kings of Orient are . . .” the carol goes. But there is nothing in Matthew’s gospel to suggest this.

We also commonly remember the magi as being three in number, and several different sets of names throughout the centuries have been suggested for them. Again, there is nothing in Matthew’s account that tells us that there were three magi or the names they were called. The magi’s gifts being three in number simply does not indicate that there were three magi.

The gifts also do not, as many assume, necessitate that the magi were wealthy. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh were indeed valuable commodities, but Matthew does not indicate the amounts that were gifted to Jesus. The gifts could represent the collective wealth of this group of magi and further underscore the sacrifice implied in their journey.

Just as strangely, we (including the NRSV translators!) have commonly regarded the magi as wise men, even though there is nothing in Matthew’s gospel that tells us that they were wise, or that they were all men.

Really.

From what we can piece together from surviving historical evidence, it appears that magi were astrologers and interpreters of dreams, especially in Eastern cultures that had been influenced by Persian customs.28 They were not kings themselves, but some of them served in the courts of kings, functioning as advisors, like the “magi” (NRSV: “magicians”) described in Daniel 2:1–11. It is likely that most such advisors were men, but some could have been women. After all, in ancient Persia women served as priests and astrologers, and even in Israelite tradition women served as prophets. There is also evidence suggesting that some magi may have been itinerant, traveling in large groups, including their families—like roaming gypsies.

By Gentile folk, some magi would have been regarded as wise. But to others, especially Israelite folk, this was not likely the case. We can find no ancient Israelite text that presents the magi as wise persons. In fact, in every surviving Israelite text of the time, including two that would have been widely known by Israelites in Jesus’ day, the magi are regarded not as wise, but fools!29 As surprising as this may be, it makes perfect sense. How do you discern the will of God if you are a faithful Israelite? By reading the Torah and Prophets, not the stars, not by magic!

Accordingly, it is very likely that most recipients of Matthew’s gospel—most of whom were likely Israelite Christians—would not have held the magi in high regard. Rather, they and most early Christians would have heard this story very differently than how many Christians hear and tell this story today. For first-century Jesus folk, this is not a story about the wisest, wealthiest, and most discerning among the Gentiles coming with great reverence to honor the Israelite King. Instead, they would have heard it as an almost comical, puzzling tale, about a bunch of silly, Eastern astrologers who are led by a star to see Jesus. “What was God up to?” many of the original recipients of Matthew’s gospel would have asked. “Why, of all people, them?30

Note too that if we carefully attend to Matthew’s account, we are not encouraged to regard the magi as all that astute. Just the opposite. While in the East, the magi see the star rising and follow it to Judea. Yet even with the guidance of the bright and luminous star, the magi still get lost! So they stop off in Jerusalem and ask for directions. Eventually, King Herod gets wind of this and secretly summons the magi (vv. 7–8). He sends them off to Bethlehem, saying “Go ahead, find the Christ child, and then come back and let me know where he lives, so that I too can go and worship him” (camera cue: focus in on Herod as he turns aside, rubs his hands, and laughs evilly under his breath). But the magi are oblivious to Herod’s ulterior motives, and to the fact that he has just gained information from them that puts Jesus at great risk (see Matt 2:16–18). The magi then head off to Bethlehem and the star leads them to the very place where Jesus lives. Finally, the still clueless magi need to be warned in a dream not to return to Herod (v. 12).

The Magi as Faithful Fools

If we read this story without the assumption that the magi are three discerning, wise men, then we can see how this story may have been understood differently by those who first told it and first heard it. Then we too might ask concerning the silly magi, along with the earliest tellers and hearers of this tale, why these folk? What was God up to?

Asking these questions can help us to recognize another important element of Matthew’s gospel that is in view here already in its opening chapters. As we will see later on in the narrative, Jesus picks fishermen, sinners, rebels, and tax collectors—basically a bunch of nobodies and no-goods—to be his disciples (4:18–22; 9:9). For this he is upbraided by the Pharisees, to whom he responds: “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners” (9:10–13). He commends a Canaanite woman for her great faith (15:21–28). He tells his disciples, “Whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave” (20:27). He defines righteousness as concern for the least among us (25:31–46), and emulates that in his own miracles of healing.

Then at one point, Jesus proclaims regarding his followers, “I praise you Father, Lord of Heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned and revealed them to little children” (11:25).

In short, through this story and others to follow, Matthew is concerned to tell us that those whom the world often finds silly, naïve, trashy, powerless, and childish are more likely to open their hearts and minds to Christ. The saving reign of God makes little headway among those who hoard their riches, who seek to preserve their privileged positions, who celebrate their status at the expense of others, who so trust in their own manner of “wisdom” that they are blind to the way of blessing God is making known in plain sight before them. The kingdom of heaven comes to the ones “foolish” enough to set the lies of this world aside, and rest their hearts in the truth and love of God made known in Emmanuel.

The Magi through the Centuries

Very few Christians throughout history have celebrated let alone remembered the foolish and childlike character of the magi as Matthew presents them. It seems likely that as the telling of the magi story moved from an Israelite to Gentile cultural context, those hearing it simply assumed that magi were wise. This interpretive tendency is still alive and well among American Christians today. Yet before discussing how the magi are most often viewed in our American context, it may be illuminating to explore how over the centuries Christians have told the magi story differently from how it is told by Matthew. In his book, The Journey of the Magi: Meanings in History of a Christian Story, Richard Trexler traces the various forms of the magi story as they appear in Christian literature and art from the opening centuries of Christianity until the beginning of the modern age. As we might expect, the story—and the magi themselves—have been presented in a number of different ways.

Early Christians of means often associated themselves with the magi in burial art adorning their tombs. A prominent motif in these settings was the generous gift-giving of the wealthy and wise magi and their subsequent reception of Christ’s salvation. Presumably, the wealthy Christians interred in the tombs displayed this depiction of the magi to emphasize their own wise and generous giving to Christ’s church and expectation of salvation. As Trexler summarizes,

The Christians who paid for these representations wanted to show that, like the magi, they had made gifts to Jesus through his church. This fundamental association between what had launched the church—the magi’s gifting of Jesus—and the salvational giving that was a consequence expected of all Christians will be one leitmotif of this work.31

Later, after Constantine’s adoption of Christianity as one of the unifying forces of his empire, a new motif was added to the portrayal of the magi. Funeral art and other sources depict the magi as legates or client kings submitting themselves to the authority of Jesus. In some of these depictions, the magi seem to represent the devotion and submission of the Roman emperors and leaders to Jesus and the church. Others associate the authority of Roman and later Byzantine emperors with that of Jesus. In these scenes, the image or example of the magi is used to depict the powers of the world presenting themselves to Christ and to the Christian emperor. Some depict the magi as members of Jesus’ royal court, as the child Jesus sits on a throne and receives the homage of foreign kings and the offerings of the nations. In both cases, the magi, Trexler points out, function as figures that legitimate not only the worship of Jesus, but also the authority of the emperor and empire, and their reception of tribute!

As we move into the early medieval period, many of these same depictions continue, including the use of the magi story to celebrate and legitimate elite power. It is also during this time that magi are first presented in Western art and literature as “the three kings” who pay homage to Jesus, and are assigned the names Balthazar, Caspar, and Melchior.32 At the same time, the image of the magi was used not only to encourage allegiance to church and empire, but to cast emperors as faithful devotees to Jesus. The Emperor Justin and his wife, Theodora, are presented in a mosaic dating to 546–48 as “quasi-magi” offering gifts directly to Jesus.

Later, the characters of the magi would be used to promote and justify the church’s attempts to reclaim Jerusalem in the first of the crusades. Trexler writes,

the crusading idea that gentiles (also from the west) might be heirs of Jerusalem, even as the eastern magi had been the first gentiles to recognize the truth of Christianity, would over time develop into the notion that the western crusading monarchs were indeed like veritable magi, returning to rescue Jerusalem from latter-day Herods.”33

By still other writers and artists, the magi were cast as representative of humankind in general. Often, but not exclusively depicted as three in number (sometimes as many as twelve), the magi represented men in different stages of life, men of different dispositions, or different Gentile races or regions of the world.

Reading the Story through Elite-Shaped Lenses

The way in which the magi have been cast by Christian artists and thinkers throughout these centuries has been variable. But the surviving depictions reviewed by Trexler overlook a critical component of Matthew’s portrayal of the magi: their childlike simplicity that challenges the prevailing notions of wisdom, power, and access to God. Instead, the magi are frequently associated with elite gift-giving, faithful royalty, or submission to royalty. These depictions reflect a retelling of the magi story by the elite in promotion of elite values and the power of the state and church.

The Magi as Colonized Supplicants

As we move into the modern period, elite and state interests continue to guide the framing of the magi story, and now in service of colonization. Columbus and others speculated that the Americas included the gold and wealth-laden homelands of the three kings.34 Building on these assertions, artwork began appearing presenting at least one and sometimes all of the magi as native American, and numerous attempts were made to draw connections between the Americas and the fabled worlds of the magi. In the mind of the church-sanctioned state, this not only legitimated the exploration and eventually exploitation of native resources, but of the natives themselves.

Once established in a region of the new world, the colonizing Spaniards held a ceremony Trexler terms the “feast of the magi,” and compelled their new subjects to play along. This was a ritualized drama in which natives representing different communities dressed as magi and prostrated themselves before and offered gifts of their land not only to Jesus, but to their colonizing conquerors in exchange for the “salvation” they had received from their new lords.

The feast of the magi was soon established in the so-called new world, since it facilitated exchanging the salvation of the Americans for the wealth of the Indies. It brought native peoples before the one altar of the child, and it allowed the dramatic union of different indigenous social configurations, from the calpullis, or neighborhoods, up to the various tribes. That was precisely what the Spaniards needed, for even if they would tolerate ethnic diversity at the representational level, they were concerned to show the union of all the American tribes at the feet of the infant, that is at the feet of the Spanish crown and the European clergy.35

Similar feasts and processions casting natives as suppliant magi took place in North America as well during the feast of Epiphany. In summary, Trexler states that these rituals “show cultures forced to play the magi within paradigms and effects prescribed by the spiritual conquerors of those regions. Not surprisingly, missionaries loved to write home about how docile and childlike such people were.”36

Now, finally, the magi are portrayed by the elite in ways that have some semblance to their appearance in Matthew! They are childlike! But this is a far cry from the childlikeness that Matthew had in mind.

Tragically, the native Americans forced to play the role of the magi in these propagandizing spectacles actually had more in common with the slaughtered children of Matthew 2. These colonizing leaders and missionaries not only radically reconfigured Matthew’s portrayal of the magi, they themselves—through exploitation, enslavement, and disease—took on the role of Herod.

Our Magi Stories Today

Allow me to restate the summary of the magi story as read within the context of Matthew’s narrative I provided above:

In short, through this story and others to follow, Matthew is concerned to tell us that those whom the world often finds silly, naïve, trashy, powerless, and childish are more likely to open their hearts and minds to Christ. The saving reign of God makes little headway among those who hoard their riches, who seek to preserve their privileged positions, who celebrate their status at the expense of others, who so trust in their own manner of “wisdom” that they are blind to the way of blessing God is making known in plain sight before them. The kingdom of heaven comes to those who set the lies of this world aside, and rest their hearts in the truth and love of God made known in Emmanuel.

This summary, of course, reflects a very different understanding of the story of the magi than we see reflected in our history. Throughout the centuries, the story of the magi has often been framed in self-congratulatory and self-serving ways that reflect elite objectives: recognition by God and others for their generous patronage, maintenance of elite power, promotion of the crusades and later colonization, and subjugation of native peoples.

Recent readings of the magi within our American context have shifted away from the most exploitative of these retellings. But as noted earlier, the magi are still commonly regarded by Christians today as wise and admirable exemplars of how one finds his or her way to Jesus. The countercultural, even revolutionary, dimension of their story in Matthew, and its focus on God’s initiative in leading the magi to Jesus, is often overlooked. In other words, instead of experiencing the story as the surprising, disorienting tale which challenges our conceptions of who truly welcomes the kingdom of God—instead of experiencing the tale as Matthew likely intended—we often read it as a tale that affirms our sense of what it takes to be a believer, or perhaps the kind of believers we consider ourselves to be: wise, learned, and discerning. Here is a sampling of such readings readily found online.

The three wise men, also known as magi, were men belonging to various educated classes. Our English word magician comes from this same root. But these wise men were not magicians in the modern sense of sleight-of-hand performers. They were of noble birth, educated, wealthy, and influential. They were philosophers, the counselors of rulers, learned in all the wisdom of the ancient East. The wise men who came seeking the Christ child were not idolaters; they were upright men of integrity. They had apparently studied the Hebrew Scriptures and found there a clear transcript of truth.37

They were certainly men of great learning . . . The magi would have followed the patterns of the stars religiously. They would have also probably been very rich and held in high esteem in their own society and by people who weren’t from their country or religion. They had seen an unusual new star in the sky, and knew that it told of the birth of a special king in Israel . . . The Magi would have known about the prophesies of a special Jewish Savior (also known as the Messiah) from when the Jews had been held captive in ancient Babylon several hundred years before.38

Magoi were experts in such astral phenomena. But what about this star drew them to Jerusalem? The most plausible explanation lies in Israel’s Scriptures. As learned men who interacted with various religious literature, the magoi would have been familiar with Jewish political or messianic oracles. And one of the central political prophecies in the Hebrew Scriptures is Balaam’s oracle.39

These foreigners, the first Gentiles to see the Light, recognize what Herod and the Temple priesthood cannot: the newborn Savior. The wealthy, learned, alien Magi of St. Matthew’s Gospel complement the poor, ignorant, local shepherds of St. Luke’s Gospel. Foreshadowing the universality of the Church, these Gentiles and Jews worship God Incarnate to show that salvation is offered to all men.40

A common theme in these descriptions of the magi and their devotion to Jesus is the assumption that they would have been men of great learning familiar with the Israelite Scriptures. I guess this is possible, but there is absolutely no evidence to support this contention. Indeed, there was likely a sharing of religious thought between Israelites and Persians starting around the late sixth century BCE and continuing on for at least the next hundred years. But we do not know how long such interreligious dialogue lasted or its extent, and we simply cannot validly assume (1) that it continued into the first century BCE and that (2) it was occurring among this particular group of magi. Even more telling, if it was the case that the magi were led by Israel’s Scriptures to await the birth of the messiah and rightly interpret the significance of the star, then why wouldn’t Matthew—who emphasizes that Jesus’ birth fulfills the Israelite Scriptures—have included that information?

Celebrating the Magi as Matthew Did

As I stated at the start of our discussion of the magi, when reflecting on this story American Christians do well to emphasize that Jesus offers God’s salvation to all humankind, and celebrate those who like the magi embrace Jesus with eyes and hearts of faith. But we also tend to cast the magi as characters we find admirable: Scripture-reading, prophecy-discerning, wealthy, wise men.

But such readings undercut the story’s original intent to challenge our notions of wisdom, power, and self-sufficiency. After all, it is the wise and wealthy and powerful ones in this story who recoil with fear and hatred when hearing the news about Christ. They plot to encounter Jesus on their terms. And eventually, they kill him.

The magi didn’t come to Jesus because they were wise. They came because they were led by God, and had just enough sense to keep following the star. The magi came not representing royal elite. They came because they were infantile enough to know goodness when they saw it, even if they didn’t fully comprehend yet what it was all about and the implications of their actions.

“I praise you Father, Lord of Heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned and revealed them to little children” (11:25).

What would it mean for us to truly identify with those the world finds silly, naïve, trashy, powerless, and childish? Rather than reading this story through a self-gratulatory set of lenses, as if the magi are discerning wise people just like us, what if we grasped that the saving reign of God makes little headway among those who hoard their riches, who seek to preserve their privileged positions, who celebrate their status at the expense of others, who so trust in their own manner of “wisdom” that they are blind to the way of blessing God is making known in plain sight before them?

Remembering our Roots, and Honoring our Ancestors

When it comes to biblical interpretation, context is (nearly) everything. At least that is the case if one is interested in reading biblical passages in a way that is similar to how many of the first recipients of these texts would have heard them. I hope my discussion of Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth and Matthew’s story of the magi illustrates the importance of engaging three different contexts when it comes to reading the Bible well.

The Worlds of the Text

Many interpreters refer to these contexts as the world behind the text (social and historical contexts), the world of the text (the literary context of the surrounding work or narrative), and the world in front of the text (the context of the readers themselves). What follows is a very brief description of each. For illustration purposes, I also summarize how engaging each of these worlds may enable us to become more faithful readers of Luke 2 and Matthew 2 (and by extension, most other biblical texts).

The World Behind the Text: how our reading of the text makes sense with respect to the time and place in which it was written. What historical, political, economic, and cultural realities are reflected within the text and must be addressed in order to understand the text more fully?

 Understanding what life was like in the first-century world, including grossly inequal distribution of resources, widespread poverty, Roman propaganda casting Caesar as Savior and Lord, and Israelite hopes for deliverance, helps us to discern the revolutionary character of Luke’s story and the contrast he dramatically depicts between Caesar and Jesus, between the Roman world and the Realm and rule of God.

 Understanding that most Israelites in Jesus’ day would have regarded magi as silly and foolish helps us to see the ways in which Matthew’s portrayal of the magi leans on and exploits these popular conceptions in order to say something startling about the kingdom of God and what it means to be part of it.

The World of the Text: how our reading of this text fits with its immediate context, and the tendencies of the rest of the biblical work in which it appears. How does this passage or story contribute to the interests of the work as a whole?

 Luke’s portrayal of Jesus’ birth builds upon Luke’s characterization of Jesus in the preceding narrative as the divine savior whose advent will upend prevailing patterns of power and right the wrong of gross inequity (recall Mary’s hymn in 1:47–55). It also further prepares us to recognize the ongoing manifestation of these themes in the narrative to follow.

 Matthew’s frequent characterization of Jesus’ followers as marginalized members of society, even “infants,” and Jesus’ consistent critique of wealth, power, and those who wield them for their own selfish pursuits, reaffirms our sense that Matthew also intended to present the magi as marginalized characters who had the humility and faith to receive God’s call.

The World in Front of the Text: how our own biases, limitations, and interests shape our reading of the story. What parts of our lenses might not be well-suited to engaging this text faithfully, and how can we adjust our lenses to allow the text to speak on its own terms?

 It is important for us to be aware of our tendency as American Christians to sentimentalize the story of Jesus’ birth and overlook its political, social, and economic dimensions—the parts of the story that make many of us uncomfortable. As American Christians, we often resist the integration of religion, politics, economics, and social stratification, and yet Luke’s gospel, like the other Gospels, consistently presents Jesus as addressing such matters as integral to the arrival of God’s kingdom.

 We also do well to be aware of the tendency throughout the ages and even today of Christians and Christian authorities casting the magi according their own interests and biases. Christians have often characterized the magi in ways that reflect their own self-image or selfish objectives, and in doing so have skewed Matthew’s witness to what it means to embrace Jesus as Emmanuel.

Reading with Respect

Not only does being mindful of these different contexts help us to become better, more critical readers of the Bible, it can also help us to be more respectful and faithful ones.

The Bible preserves the gathered testimonies of our spiritual ancestors, spanning over a millennium, to their experience and understanding of God, their history, and sense of what it means to be God’s people. We are the privileged—very privileged—heirs of these sacred traditions. But if we read this holy testimony without any concerted interest or effort to hear it as it was originally intended to be heard, then whose voice are we hearing as we encounter it? Are we truly engaging the testimony of our ancestors, or just our own voices?

Moreover, Christians have also commonly regarded this very same testimony as inspired by God, and an important resource that God has provided us to discern who God is and what it means to live rightly with God and one another. This belief began with our spiritual ancestors’ sense that these texts provided such inspired, faithful witness. But if we read this holy testimony without any concerted interest or effort to hear it as it was heard by our ancestors, who heard in these stories the voice of God, then we could rightly ask if we are actually reading the same “Bible” our ancestors gathered together, wrote down, and passed down to us. Are we truly engaging the “Word of God”? In other words, are we coming to the Bible to be entertained by a quaint tale, or to affirm the rightness of our own views and interests, or to be transformed?

Two Clarifications

I hope my logic here is straightforward. But as I close this chapter, I will offer a couple points of clarification.

Does this mean that all is lost if we have trouble discerning the historical context of a biblical passage, or we do not do so perfectly?

Not necessarily. Even if we don’t have all the information we need to reconstruct the specific features of every historical setting we encounter, just having a general sense of prevailing political and economic patterns and cultural norms in particular periods can often be very helpful. We also do well to keep in mind that interpretation of any sort is rarely an exact science and is more about probabilities than perfection. This is also the case with biblical interpretation. For this reason, ongoing study and research is important, and even more so, humility, self-awareness, and dialogue. We won’t always get it right. But we will almost never get close to the intended meaning and objectives of biblical texts if we don’t try to read them with these contexts in mind.

Does this mean that more “spiritual” or devotional readings that don’t critically engage the contexts behind the texts, of the text, and in front of the text, are worthless?

Not at all. I believe that the Spirit has the capacity to connect with us and guide us through a variety of avenues. The devotional reading of biblical passages is one of those rituals through which many—including myself—encounter the presence and instruction of God.

But I also believe that such practices should not be the sole avenue through which Christians engage Scripture. Our tendency to hear in the text what we want to hear, our tendency to shape our lenses in ways that mirror back to us our own preconceived notions, is a strong one. Remember, we are by nature and necessity perspectival and selective interpreters! Our devotional reading of Scripture should be informed by and in conversation with those readings that try to hear the witness of our ancestors as they testify to God and God’s will in their times and places.

The key, I think, is that we don’t fall into the trap of engaging Scripture in isolation from other believers, or through only one approach. The narrower our lenses, the more narrow our encounter with Scripture, and the more narrow our understanding of God and God’s will. We must be self-aware and humble enough to realize that faithful reading the Bible will sometimes, perhaps even often, lead us to read against the grain of our own biases and our own self-interests, at least as those are often defined by our world. We must strive for a way of reading that honors our ancestors’ testimonies to the often-revolutionary, always-transforming, real life-relevant work and word of God.

To do otherwise is to dishonor our ancestors. To do otherwise is to read the Bible badly.

Reflection or Discussion Questions

1 Do you agree with the author that there is a major disconnect between the way in which Luke and Matthew present the stories surrounding Jesus’ birth and how we remember and celebrate these stories as American Christians? If so, what manifestations of this disconnect do you recognize? Why do you think this disconnect exists?

2 It seems strange to many American Christians to consider the political and economic dimensions of the Gospel traditions, along with the rest of the biblical writings. How do you feel about this? How does attending to these dimensions help or complicate your understanding of Scripture?

3 In your mind, how might we faithfully honor the testimony of our ancestors in the faith as we read and reflect on Scripture today?

11. For a still relevant and thoughtful critique of how American Christians celebrate Christmas, see McKibben, Hundred Dollar Holiday.

12. Mark’s gospel begins with John’s arrival and Jesus’ baptism as an adult, during which the divine voice proclaims Jesus as God’s beloved son (1:1–15). John starts his narrative “in the beginning,” prior to creation, with Jesus as the divine Logos through whom all of creation comes into existence (1:1–18).

13. For more a more detailed account of the Roman world during the time of Jesus, please see Kuhn, Kingdom, 1–54, and the other resources listed in the notes to follow.

14. de Ste. Croix, Class Struggle, 374.

15. Rohrbaugh, “Social Location,” 154. The two studies cited by Rohrbaugh are Zias, “Death and Disease” and Fiensy, Social History.

16. Rohrbaugh, “Social Location,” 150, 151.

17. Horsley, Jesus and the Powers, 7.

18. Hamel, “Poverty and Charity,” 314.

19. Israel’s prophetic tradition and numerous texts surviving from the “intertestamental period” (about 250 BCE to 50 CE) identify socioeconomic exploitation by the elite as an egregious violation of God’s will for Israel and humanity in general. See, e.g., Amos 5:1–24; Micah 2:1–11; Isa 10:1–4.

20. See Kuhn, Kingdom, 43–44.

21. See Kuhn, Kingdom, 31–45.

22. Green, Luke, 122. For a helpful discussion of how the census would be perceived by most Israelites as a particularly egregious instance of oppressive Roman hegemony, see Horsley, Liberation of Christmas, 33–38.

23. However, already in these opening verses Luke drops a subtle dig at Caesar and his mighty rule. By telling us that Joseph and Mary are headed to “the city of David, called Bethlehem” (v. 4), Luke calls to mind the prophecy of Micah 5:2–6 announcing a future leader who would come forth from Bethlehem, save Israel from its enemies, and “be great until the ends of the earth” (v. 4). Throughout his two-volume work, as he does here, Luke shows the proud and powerful seeking to control the lives of faithful and in doing so unwittingly advancing God’s designs: here it is Caesar’s census that gets Jesus to Bethlehem where he must be born!

24. Those of you who have spent time around farm animals know that “crap-encrusted feedbox” is no exaggeration.

25. Green, Luke, 131.

26. Translation from Price, Rituals and Power, 54.

27. Horsley, Liberation of Christmas, 32–33.

28. For a helpful review and assessment of this evidence drawing on Greco-Roman literature, Jewish midrash (commentary on biblical traditions), and the Israelite Scriptures, see Powell, Eastern Star, 139–54.

29. The characterization of magi as foolish appears in Jewish midrash on Pharaoh’s magicians in the Exodus story and on the foreign prophet, Balaam (see Num 22–24). Pharaoh’s magicians are revealed to be ineffectual: their magical arts end up worsening the plagues against Egypt, in other moments their arts fail to produce any results, and in the end they become plague victims themselves. Balaam is characterized by Philo as the “most foolish of all men.” As summarized by Powell (Eastern Star, 152), “Philo presents the magus as foolish in a broader sense: he is a ridiculous figure whose useless art is easily thwarted by God and exposed for the nonsense that it really is.”

30. If magi were regarded by most Jewish folk as foolish, then it begs the question of why Herod and the inhabitants of Jerusalem would have been troubled by the magi’s assertion that a king had been born among the Jews on the basis of observing his star. Herod was of mixed ethnicity, and though his family had converted to Judaism, many Israelites at the time (as do historians today) questioned Herod’s allegiance to Jewish perspectives and traditions, despite the resources he devoted to the restoration and expansion of the Jerusalem temple. The fact that he finds the magi credible is consistent with the view of numerous Israelites that Herod subscribed to many foolish, Gentile notions. Likewise, Herod’s fear and questioning of the magi in Matthew’s story reveal his ignorance of Torah and his self-serving lack of interest in the arrival of God’s kingdom. Moreover, Herod’s irrational paranoia during the latter part of his reign compelled him to murder members of his own family (including his wife, Mariamne) and friends. Thus, it is entirely plausible that Herod would find the magi’s query credible or at least worrisome enough to take action. And given Herod’s inclination towards violence when he felt his reign was being threatened, it is not surprising that many within Jerusalem would also fear any perceived challenge to Herod’s reign. Tragically, it turns out that their fear was justified (see Matt 2:16–18).

31. Trexler, Magi, 23–24.

32. Trexler, Magi, 35.

33. Trexler, Magi, 74.

34. Trexler, Magi, 138.

35. Trexler, Magi, 147.

36. Trexler, Magi, 208.

37. Bible Info, “Three Wise Men.”

38. WhyChristmas.com, “All About the Wise Men.”

39. Lanier, “We Three Kings.”

40. Miesel, “Wise Men.”