Get Wise: Lessons from the Magi and Herod

by Rev. Sean Amato

If there’s one thing an earthly king despises, dear church, it seems to be an indirect challenge: the kind of challenge that barely references the king themselves, perhaps doesn’t reference him at all. The kind of challenge that, merely by existing, threatens the king – threatens his power, his sanctity, his appeal, the power he has over his court. In our scripture reading today, King Herod finds himself – his authority, his kingly status – challenged by the completion of a prophecy. And not just a prophecy, but a prophetic birth – challenged by a child who, to some of his detractors, might have more of a claim to his throne than he did. And what’s worst of all is how Herod found out about this prophecy: third-hand. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me set the scene.

The Rise of King Herod
King Herod – posthumously hailed as Herod the Great, a title that many might contest – ruled over a Judea that was tumultuous to say in the least. You see, Herod came to the throne of Judea without much of a claim to it: instead, he earned his title from the Romans after capturing and turning over his predecessor Antigonus, the King and High Priest of Judea.

Antigonus is known best as a leader who resisted Roman rule: he fought against Roman encroachment and domination for years, gaining even the support of the Persian Empire in his crusade against his great enemy. Eventually, Antigonus led a revolt that captured Jerusalem – only for Herod, who had fled Jerusalem in fear of reprisal, to sweep in and capture him. Herod turned Antigonus over to the Romans, who executed him in Syria. As a reward, Herod was granted kingship over the Roman client state of Judea.

Herod’s Struggles with Legitimacy
Herod had an image problem right from the start – and with such an image problem, he became fiercely defensive of his reign. But why was Herod so stressed about his legitimacy? Because, by the standard of the day, he had very little of it.

For starters, Herod was a native of Edom, a rival people that had warred with the Israelites for centuries; his initial efforts as King of Judea, in fact, would be to construct Edomite and Roman temples throughout Judea. He exacerbated tensions between ethnic groups, too, when he established a secret police force populated by Celtic and Germanic mercenaries – a force that he used to harangue his Judean subjects, arresting protestors and putting down popular movements that opposed him.

After almost forty years on the throne, Herod had burned nearly every local bridge he had been handed: he relied solely upon distant Rome for support as he executed his own family members, attacked any and all critics of his rule, and farmed high taxes to subsidize his court’s decadence. While the Romans considered him a king who “knew his place and followed the rules,” his subjects came to despise him.

Herod’s Obsession with Prophecy
For all these public faults, one characteristic of Herod the Great stands out: he was, in his private life, intensely religious. He was obsessed with ritual purity, for instance, having built over forty mikvahs or Jewish baths in his palace. Unsurprisingly, Herod was also quite attuned to any talk of prophecy – quite attuned to any talk that might herald instability, especially if it meant a challenge to his rule.

Imagine his dire surprise, then, when the three magi arrived asking after the news of a child born – and not just any child, but a child prophesied to hold a title that Herod lusted after, that Herod demanded others see him as: a child purported to be the King of the Jews.

Who Were the Magi?
To understand the true impact such an inquiry might have had upon Herod, one must know about the magi. These were not just three “wise men,” as our Christmas traditions tell us. So, who were they?

Magi, the title by which they are called in some translations of scripture, is one of the few authentically Persian words in our Holy Book. Magi is the plural form of magus, or the older magauno – titles that, in the days of Herod and Jesus, referred to priests in ancient Persia’s religion of Zoroastrianism.

The Magi’s Sacred Practices
Zoroastrianism – say that ten times fast – is an interesting faith: they were monotheists, meaning that they believed in one God – well before their Jewish neighbors, in fact. Zoroastrians magi were deeply mystic in their understanding of faith, often going outside the expectations of their organized religion to find new truths – an approach that, after many mistranslations, comes to us as speakers of the English language as the word “magic.”

One of the “magics” most used by Zoroastrian priests in their duties was something known as “sacred astrology.” In these ancient days, astrology – predicting the future by measuring the stars, by plotting and translating their journeys – was a cutting-edge science. And Zoroastrian priests, considered experts in the field, gained reputations as “star-seekers” – people who would follow the heavens to far-flung places such as India, China, and – you guessed it – Judea.

The Magi as Threats to Herod
A final and important note about these magi: wherever they roamed, be it in a foreign land or in their home of Persia, they did so with the implicit authority of the Persian Empire. Zoroastrianism was the state religion of the Persian Empire, and its temples were owned and protected by the Persian government; the religion’s clergy received their training from that empire, and were effectively its employees.

These were not just wise men or magicians, and not just priests: these were representatives of Rome’s greatest regional rival, and thus a major threat to Herod. So imagine how paranoid Herod must have felt, when three magicians representing Persia waltzed into his court to ask: “So, where’s your replacement? Where’s the real King of the Jews?”

The Magi’s Gifts and Defiance
The magi depart, and follow the star, and by some miracle find Mary and Jesus in Bethlehem. And when they meet this holy pair, their response is marvelous. They provide Mary and Jesus with royal gifts, the same royal gifts they’d have given whether they found this new king either in a palace or in a barn.

These gifts, gathered from across the East, offered by three priests who did not worship the God of Israel but came to meet Him in person, represent the first earthly offerings to Christ Jesus – the first fruits of humanity to God enfleshed, given by people who came before this little child at great risk to themselves.

Lessons from Seekers of Faith
Slatersville, our faith was founded and heralded by seekers – those who took great pains to make sense of their lives and their spirits. People who, when challenged by daily life, by political realities, by life’s bleak cruelties, sought the blooming and Godly flower – a divine breath that emerged amidst corruption and pain, a manifest divine that would survive Herod’s Massacre of the Innocents only due to the kindness and protection of three righteous foreigners, three risk-taking seekers who met the Christ child and said: “Hail, divine one.”

In this equally strange age, church, I beseech you, my friendly seekers, my fellow Christians: look to the example of the magi – those men who sought God righteously, saw God in the form of a lowly child, and delayed a madman’s wrath. How might you live into their example? How might you respond to inconvenient and distant prophecies, to endangered and divine children? Heavy questions, to be sure. When in doubt, beloved, seek the Star of Bethlehem: follow the star that is your faith, and love whatever and whoever you find under it. Amen.