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Chapter 1

Encountering Jesus Calls You to More

Christ and the Magi

We have five Nativity sets in my house: not out of overindulgence, but out of sheer necessity. One set is for my one-year-old, who is still learning how to treat things gently and that the horns of an ox are not to be used as a weapon. One set is for my six-year-old, who likes to take a more “interactive” approach to the Nativity, including inserting Disney princesses and Barbies into the biblical narrative. Last year, when I asked why the baby Jesus was in Barbie’s convertible, she responded, “Barbie is baby-sitting, Daddy … the trip to Bethlehem left Mary and Joseph very tired.”

The third set is for my nine-year-old. She doesn’t want anyone “messing up” the set by placing the figures the wrong way or in the incorrect order. The fourth set is for my “tween” who enjoys retelling the Nativity story from each character’s unique perspective … oftentimes adding accents to their voices. I’m not sure why the angels have an English accent in her brain, but the Gloria sounds classy, so I’m okay with it. The last is one very nice ceramic Nativity set high atop a bookshelf that my wife and I gaze upon and patrol diligently due to its fragility. A closer examination will reveal the angel has only one hand and the lamb only three legs, due to the “incidents” of 2007 and 2009, respectively (which again explains why it now sits up so high).

Each set represents something special and important. As a father, I want my children to place themselves in the story. It is essential that they see the birth of Christ as meaningful and fundamentally important in their own lives. And as sons and daughters of God, you and I need to remember the same thing.

It’s easy, though, for this to become just a story, isn’t it? It’s romantic and sacred and somehow almost too good to be true. This reality is a dangerous one. When we begin to view biblical truths through a purely historical lens, we lose something essential. Sometimes it’s healthy to re-imagine the scene again. As St. Francis (who gave us the first crèche) might suggest, picture the Nativity not as a set of figurines displayed on an end table, but rather as living, breathing souls huddled amidst the animals in a dimly lit cave on a cold winter’s night.

Inspired by grace

Swaddled tightly beneath a star-blanketed Bethlehem sky, God breathed gently yet powerfully. The acceptable time had come. The prophecies were now — at last — fulfilled. The Creator had invaded His creation on a mission of love and, for the next three decades, peace and joy would be breathed and “inhaled” (received) in tangible new ways.

That night, the divine life of God was communicated through a tiny human breath. Put simply, God breathed not solely so that He might live but that we would. It’s fascinating how something so small, a breath, roughly eight ounces of oxygen, forms the line between life and death.

The Latin word for breath — inspirare — is where we get the term “inspiration”; it literally means, “to breathe [life] into.” Inspiration, however, is far more than a biological word or concept; it is a deeply spiritual reality. God’s inspiration animates our Christian souls, guides our steps, and offers us both a mission and a purpose. We talk about how the Bible is the “inspiration” of the Holy Spirit … the Word of God through the pens of men. Stop and consider how vital this inspiration of God is to our faith and, indeed, our lives as Catholics! The Church is inspired, the sacraments are inspired, and — with any luck — with every encounter we witness on the pages of sacred Scripture we, too, are inspired. We breathe in God’s life (grace) that we might share it. Inspiration leads to respiration.

When we begin to view biblical truths through a purely historical lens, we lose something essential.

Since you began reading this you’ve probably taken between twenty and thirty breaths (fifty if you’re reading it on a treadmill, which isn’t safe, but hamsters applaud your effort). We know, of course, that inspiration is vital not only for our bodies but also for our souls. It’s when we realize how desperately we need oxygen that we come to appreciate it more.

It’s how our story began, after all (or, “before all,” if you want to get technical). Life began because God spoke; He breathed the word (see Gn 1:3) and creation spun into existence. It was when God breathed life into Adam, however, that things got even more interesting (Gn 2:7). Creation now bore the ability to inspire: to procreate life in God’s image.

We often speak about the people and the things that inspire us — heroic characters, timeless tales — heart-stopping and soul-stirring moments that ironically bring us life by taking our breath away. Authentic inspiration is a gift from God, the giver of all good and perfect gifts (see Jas 1:17).

Now would be a good time to take a deep breath, actually, because throughout the sacred Scriptures (also, inspired by the Spirit’s breath) you might notice that rarely does anything life-changing or soul-altering occur in a primary character until after God has moved them. Looking back, you might come to find the same rings true in your own life.

Abram and his family were moved well over 2,500 miles before God revealed the patriarch’s true mission. Moses was a murderer hiding in the desert wilderness before God called him back to Egypt and, then, on to Sinai and the Promised Land. Joshua fled. Elijah ran. Esther’s family was deported into captivity. Even Jeremiah, though left behind in an increasingly desolated Jerusalem during the Babylonian capture, was “moved” from his comfort zone to a prophetic life of deep sorrow and eventual peace. God often moves those He loves to create more “space” for Him, to shake us free from created things (see Heb 12:26) and leave only what is unshaken (Heb 12:27).

What does this mean for you and me, personally? It means that God is the irresistible force often trying to call us immovable objects forward; the Father desires the ill-tempered brats to become malleable children.

Ask yourself: “Has God been trying to move me? Has the Father been trying to get this child’s attention and, if so, have I actually listened, or have I put in the ‘earbuds’ of modern busyness, stress, overwork, and self-involvement?”

If we want to see Jesus, we have to take our eyes out of our navels and peer up into the heavens.

Grand reopening

Have you ever driven by the “Grand Opening” of a restaurant or store? Oftentimes, you’ll see those giant moving spotlights out front, casting rays of blinding light into the night sky. The lights are designed to catch our attention, to announce something big, and to draw customers closer. Our human eyes are even more captivated by the mechanical lights shining up from earth than the light emanating down from the stars, stars that our ancestors affectionately called “the heavens.”

Our hearts are often drawn to artificial “lights” the world has to offer. We seek earthly solutions to our heavenly desires. Some people run to food and others to drugs. Some run to relationships and others to screens. Some people’s artificial light is popularity, and for others it is money. There is an endless list of diversions and quick fixes, but nothing external can heal the void internal. It takes Christ. He is our healer and savior. He is the solution to our problem of sin. Jesus is both the surgeon and the solution; His very life (which we call “grace”) is our antidote.

Look at the star of Bethlehem, for instance — even the celestial orb rising in the heavens functioned only as an arrow, an announcement … an external symbol. The star served as a starting point of the Magi’s journey and — by extension — our own. As it’s been said countless times before, wise men still seek Him. The external star symbolizes something that resides deep within us all, an internal longing for heaven’s glory. The pursuit of the Wise Men is reminiscent of our own pursuit of God. Something begins to happen within us when we admit our sinfulness and seek Jesus with more intensity. Literally, the mystery of Christ moves us and the love of Christ impels (and then propels) us forward.

I often wonder if I would have traveled as far for Christ as the Magi did. I mean, I only have to drive fifteen minutes to my parish to encounter the King of Kings in the tabernacle, upon the altar, in the adoration chapel or confessional. The Magi saddled dromedaries and headed west for the greatest road trip recorded in the Bible. I get stressed corralling four kids and my lovely bride into the car and then the pew before the entrance hymn is completed. But, the Wise Men journeyed for months, on a whim and a star. That’s faith. That is the kind of reckless abandon that all modern Christians need but few seem to possess, myself very much included.

Three wise guys and a baby

About twelve days after Christmas (you might recognize that time frame from the song) we celebrate the feast of the Epiphany, focusing on the events following Christ’s birth, when the Magi arrived and worshiped the King of Kings. While they didn’t RSVP for this baby shower, it’s difficult to imagine Mary or Joseph would have complained, especially when they carried in the gifts they did — gold, frankincense, and myrrh weren’t cheap (and not easily purchased from their local Target). When the “wise men” parked their camels and fell on their knees, their act of worship revealed something amazing: good news that would impact us all.

St. Matthew details the encounter for us:

When they had heard the king they went their way; and lo, the star which they had seen in the East went before them, till it came to rest over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy; and going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.” (Matthew 2:9-11)

Envision this miraculous encounter. The star they had followed now came to rest, the light shining in darkness now showered light upon the Light of the world. God from God, light from light, true God from true God. Here lay a baby — born and begotten, though not made — so radiant in splendor that the hearts of learned minds became so full they fell to their knees. Picture Mary’s expression in this moment. They all knew the prophecy, but Mary held the prophet. The shepherds had come and found the Lamb (of God) … now the Wise Men came and found Wisdom Incarnate.

Picture the baby Jesus. Is He squirming or calm? How is Mary holding Him? Did He wail before the Magi or laugh? Were they allowed to hold the one who held the universe in His tiny hands? Did they kiss His brow? Was He bathed in their tears? Imagine the validation they must have felt after such a journey — not a validation that they were right, but that they had now encountered all that is right in the universe.

The shepherds had come and found the Lamb (of God) … now the Wise Men came and found Wisdom Incarnate.

If you’ve ever experienced pure love, you know how it ruins you for anything less. The Magi not only experienced their Creator but sat in the presence of the only soul the Creator chose to need so profoundly … the blessed Mother. There is no way, once you behold the splendor of God so simply, that the simple ever looks the same again. As Fyodor Dostoyevsky said: “If you love … you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day” (The Brothers Karamazov).

Imagine how impressive the gold would have looked to the Magi on the way to Bethlehem, and how it paled in comparison to the luminance emanating from the manger upon their arrival. How shiny the gold, how thick the cloud of incense, how fragrant the myrrh — all overshadowed by the God of the universe — the Bread of Life — laid in a feedbox. Consider how the things of the world can appear so impressive and pressing at times, occupying all of our thought and stressing our senses. They’re stressful, that is, until we are in the presence of God — Christ’s true presence in the Eucharist — where heaven kisses earth, once again, in gentleness and in mercy, just as it did in Bethlehem.

Moving forward from Bethlehem

Tradition reveals that the names of the Magi are Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. Though no one knows for sure, it was St. Bede the Venerable (672-735) who filled in the details on the Wise Men, teaching:

• Melchior was an older man, with a long white beard and white hair, who brought gold to celebrate the kingship of Jesus.

• Gaspar was a younger, beardless, and “ruddy” (red-haired) man who offered (frank)incense to honor the divinity of Christ.

• Balthazar was a middle-aged man of black complexion, with a heavy beard, who offered myrrh to signify the humanity of the Lord.

Medieval legends state that their bones were put in the cathedral of Cologne, the “City of the Three Kings,” brought there in 1164. Originally, they were considered and depicted as astrologers, but about the Middle Ages or so the interpretation began to take on the notion more of “kings.” Some traditions hold that St. Thomas the Apostle visited them later on in life, catechized and initiated them fully into the Christian faith, and that they were later ordained priests and bishops. So why do we still hail these three characters, immortalized in song and art, two thousand years later?

The word “epiphany” means “to reveal.” This is where Jesus’s identity would be revealed to the greater world, beyond Mary and Joseph, some shepherds, and the animals. When the Gentile (non-Jewish) astrologers roll in from the East, it’s a signal that this blessed birth to a poor Jewish couple was going to affect far more people than just their immediate family; this holy baby’s life would have effects on an international stage. The birth of Jesus had universal (or, in Greek, “catholic”) implications. It is a bold and beautiful announcement that God’s kingdom had, indeed, come, and when God’s kingdom comes, our “kingdoms” must go. Regardless of what happened later, we must not forget the simplest lessons the Magi taught us: they showed up, worshiped Jesus, and brought their gifts. Ask yourself if you do all three. If not, “Why not?” And if so, keep it up.

It’s easy, though, for the Epiphany to function as and remain a mere story to the twenty-first-century believer. So, what does this really mean for us today? Why are these characters — these “three kings” (even though Scripture lists only three gifts, not three people) — still being celebrated and sung about and made into tiny Nativity-set action figures? How does their action impact the modern believer?

There are several things we can learn from the Magi, actually. Consider, just a few:

• Sometimes God calls us to search for Him with our bodies and, indeed, with our whole heart. It may take time to “find” the Lord, but it is in the seeking that we come to yearn for Him even more. In seeking God, we actually come to realize that He is the One seeking us and calling out to us in signs and wonders right in front of us.

• True adoration and worship culminate and find their place at the manger. In modern settings, the manger is your parish altar/chapel, tabernacle, and/or monstrance. Bethlehem is not half a world away; it is as near as your home parish.

• Just as God offers us His physical presence (in Christ Jesus), we are invited to offer ourselves back to Him, along with our gifts, talents, etc. A gift is not a gift until it is freely given … until then it is a possession.

• We are all invited to encounter God and to receive His grace … no credentials except sin are necessary; current saints need not apply.

• The journey to Bethlehem took the Magi time and great effort. Their example should encourage you to ask yourself, “How far am I willing to go for Christ?” What more does God have to do to prove His love beyond the Cross, His mercy beyond absolution, and His intimacy beyond the sacraments?

• Are you willing to lay down your gifts and your very lives in worship of God? That question sounds simple enough, but the simplest questions are often the most dangerous and the most difficult to answer.

Remember that the motivation and effort of your gift-giving is often far more meaningful than the gift itself. The Magi’s trust — their travel, effort, and worship — far outshone the gifts that they bore. Still, today, far more meaningful than your mere physical presence in the church is the motivation behind it and the worship you unleash when in the Lord’s presence.

The not-so-happy ending

In the midst of these — and many more lessons we can learn from the Epiphany — we can’t forget the drama going on behind the scenes.

The Magi had encountered King Herod, who wanted to know the whereabouts of the newborn Christ. Threatened by ancient prophecies coming true, the bloodthirsty king wanted the baby dead. God had raised a star in the heavens, magi had traveled, Mary and Joseph had too, the inn was full, the angels had proclaimed, the shepherds visited, and just when things were supposed to calm down, it got even more dangerous. It took angelic intervention — fleeing the town under the veil of night, escaping the grip of a homicidal king, and returning to foreign lands — for the Holy Family and the blessed Magi to be safe and process all they had experienced.

This is no Disney movie. This is not the “happy ending” to the birth story, either. This is reality. This happened. This was another miraculous event in the historic battle between good and evil, where the light, once again, overcomes the darkness. These were real souls that journeyed, worshiped, adored, and eventually returned home, changed forever.

During the Epiphany, the epic saga of salvation history takes a dramatic and unexpected turn, announcing God’s presence to a world desperately in need of it. Nothing much has changed. You are magi now, traveling to your local Bethlehem (parish), advancing toward a different-looking manger (the altar), and laying down your gifts and your life before the King each week. You make the trip physically, yes, but it’s how far you are willing to go spiritually that makes a difference. Will you kneel? Will you worship? Will you allow the Lord to change you forever?

The answers to those questions will determine whether or not the faithful will be celebrating your life two thousand years from now when you are a saint. If your immediate response to that last sentence was “Me? A saint? Not a chance!” then may I submit your God is too small. No sin is greater than His mercy. No sin. God took flesh to save us from our sins. He gave us His Holy Spirit to help us become saints. The Holy Spirit’s job is — quite literally — to make us holy.

The Christmas mystery — the mystery of the Incarnation — invites us to active prayer. God emptying himself and taking on flesh is beautiful, not only because of the humility and gentleness of the baby in the manger, but because of His invitation to interact with Him physically and intimately. The entire Nativity scene is a celebration of God’s love for His children, His willingness to stop at nothing to ensure our salvation. It is a scene that we must prayerfully engage in, not just passively “admire.” Never forget that the Lord didn’t come to be admired, but to be worshiped. Fall on your knees this night, as they did so many centuries ago, and worship the God who loved you enough to be born into the world’s filth and sin, to save you from it.

A Step Beyond

So how can we live out the reality of the Magi’s journey in our own lives? How do we answer the call with similar abandon?

Ask God to reveal to you which people or things, fears or stresses inadvertently become your “god.” You may want to compile a list of the things that occupy a majority of your thoughts instead of God. What are the stresses that render you distant when you’re called to be present to family or friends? What are the anxieties that steal your focus and energy when you go to pray?

If you aren’t sure “who your God is,” you might want to begin with your social media profile. Who and what do you post about the most? Who occupies a majority of your thoughts and energy? If Christ was right (and He always is) when He said, “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Mt 6:21), then we can learn a lot from where we spend our time and energy.

No sin is greater than His mercy.

We cannot worship the true God until we acknowledge any false gods that have crept in and set up shop in our souls.

This self-assessment is challenging and humbling. It’s thirsty work … let’s grab a drink.