Catholic Heroes… The Magi
By DEB PIROCH
“Where is he that is born king of the Jews? For we saw his star in the east, and are come to adore him” (Matt. 2:2).
- + + There were three wise men who came from the east, following a star over Bethlehem, seeking an infant king. Their names were Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, and they came from Persia, today in the Middle East. Some today are confused when they were astrologers; this meant that they studied the wonders of the Heavens, looking for marvelous signs of what the signs above the firmament foretold.
That these three are regarding as saints by the Catholic Church is not the least surprising in that we mark the Feast of the Three Kings on January 6. Relics of these saints are believed to be in a golden reliquary on the altar of Cologne Cathedral, in Germany. (In fact, three skulls are present of different ages!)
Prior to being interred here, the relics were in Milan, and earlier they were discovered by no less than St. Helena. Just as she is said to have detected the relics of the True Cross, so too these relics, which she brought to Constantine and the Church of Hagia Sophia. To keep the relics safe, over time they moved across Europe to their present home in the twelfth century.
Many modern writers seem determined to imply that the Magi did not exist. They say the Gospels do not indicate that there were three kings per se, nor their names. We are told perhaps there were twelve (!), and that three could be a random number because they brought three gifts, rather like in a fairy tale. Yet the names were given describing the “magi” in a Latin document, Excerpta Latina Barbari, as far back as five centuries within the birth of Christ. One Catholic source also erroneously states the gifts themselves had no meaning.
Such speculation fails to give proper solicitude to the true depth and weight with which Tradition is weighed in the Catholic faith along with Scripture, and this means that there were those at the time who witnessed to this fruit. To say that this was an invention — was the Trinity, too, then an invention because three is a “magic” number? — shows tremendous lack of belief in an age already noted for its lack of belief.
With God, there are no accidents.
Gaspar brought gold; this was the wealth only one king could offer another, honoring the Babe as King. Melchior brought with him frankincense (like incense), as an obvious token reflective the Infant King’s divinity. Just as the priest burns incense during the Holy Mass, this incense is a sign pleasing to God, honoring the purity of His sacrifice and the very holiness when Christ became man. And Balthasar brought with him perhaps the most sobering of gifts, myrrh — a costly burial spice with which to anoint and honor the dead. Its bitterness foretells Christ’s advent into this world to die on the cross, at once uniting both the love and passion in a perfect moment of conception.
The Magi would not have been new to the idea of a Messianic God, one who had come to save us despite our unworthiness. The Persians would have been familiar with this concept of a redemptive God, a Messianic God, who had long been foretold. They had been watching and awaiting Him. How ironic that these “primitive” people believed in the miracle of the Star of Bethlehem, which astronomers now want to insist did not exist, for no records of the time describe the event.
And in a day and an age sadly more concerned with erasing the miraculous at the cost of the Divine, the New Theological Movement website states those who insist on belaboring how the Magi might have in fact followed such a star when it was “impossible” are doing themselves and the star a great disservice:
“Thus, we might be surprised to realize that the overwhelming consensus of the Catholic tradition — from the Church Fathers, through the Scholastic Doctors (including St. Thomas Aquinas), and up to the great theologians of the counter-reformation period — maintains that the star of Bethlehem was not a real star. It was not an event in the heavens at all; that is, it was not in outer-space, but was another sort of reality. Indeed, the star of Bethlehem was a light brightly shining but low to the earth and within our atmosphere. It was no star, nor even a comet or any such thing — rather, it was much more like the pillar of fire which led the Israelites out of Egypt.”
In the year 2013 on the Feast of the Three Kings, Pope Benedict XVI dwelt on the inner eye of faith that determined what the Magi sought and were able to recognize the Star that led them when it appeared. The Pope Emeritus’ words:
“Faith’s inner pilgrimage towards God occurs above all in prayer. St. Augustine once said that prayer is ultimately nothing more than the realization and radicalization of our yearning for God. . . .
“Let us return to the Wise Men from the East. These were also, and above all, men of courage, the courage and humility born of faith. Courage was needed to grasp the meaning of the star as a sign to set out, to go forth — towards the unknown, the uncertain, on paths filled with hidden dangers. We can imagine that their decision was met with derision: the scorn of those realists who could only mock the reveries of such men. Anyone who took off on the basis of such uncertain promises, risking everything, could only appear ridiculous. But for these men, inwardly seized by God, the way which he pointed out was more important than what other people thought. For them, seeking the truth meant more than the taunts of the world, so apparently clever.”
Poet Christina Rossetti, in her 1872 work which was set to music by Holst for In the Bleak Midwinter, affects sorrow that “if I were a wise man, I would do my part.” Yet in the end, the poet does just as we all do, we give the Infant Babe our heart. Like the Magi — yes, the Magi — let us adore Him.
In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,
Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,
The ox and ass and camel which adore.
Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.
What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.