I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen a presidential motorcade, but they’re quite the sight. Police everywhere, lots of big black vehicles with flashy lights, the whole works. Royalty back in the day didn’t have motorcades, obviously, but they didn’t travel in any less style. They had guards and attendants and advisors and all manner of slave and servant, not to mention camels and beasts of burden. The soldiers would have been decked out in polished armor, and the servants would have been clad in clothes of every bright color, the important ones maybe even with furs. Then you have the royalty themselves maybe even carried in litters on the shoulders of servants who looked like giants with attendants with ostrich-feather fans. You can imagine the commotion it caused, then, when this parade of high fashion rolled into small-town Bethlehem.

 

But why did the magi follow the star? Why did they care about the King of the Jews? Maybe they had read our psalm from today, “All kings shall pay him homage, all nations shall serve him. For he shall rescue the poor when he cries out, and the afflicted when he has no one to help him.” “Justice shall flower in his days, and profound peace, till the moon be no more.” The magi knew that the world was (and still is) in desperate need of this child, and we can easily imagine them making the words of our first reading their own, “See, darkness covers the earth, and thick clouds cover the peoples; but upon you, [little child,] the Lord shines, and over you appears his glory.” They have lived in the darkness of a world which does not know God, but now they hope to see “his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” At last, they have found the wisdom and love that they have always sought.
 

The story of the magi, however, is only half of the story. Their hope is contrasted with King Herod’s cynicism. What the magi ask openly, Herod ascertains secretly. When the magi are overjoyed, Herod is greatly troubled. Where the magi search for the Christ-child to worship him, Herod remains aloof in his palace. While the magi give gifts to Christ, Herod tries to take his very life. But ultimately, there’s only one difference between them: the magi know that they stand to gain a heavenly kingdom; Herod knows only that he stands to lose an earthly one. When Herod hears these strange dignitaries say, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews?” he is greatly troubled. Herod is a usurper, and if the magi are right and the prophecy is fulfilled, then the gig is up. He stands to gain everything from receiving the Christ-child as his savior, but he can only see that he stands to lose everything to the Christ-child as his rival.
 

My brothers and sisters, we stand at the crossroads: will we follow the magi to Bethlehem, or will we remain with Herod in the palace of our comfort? Are we willing to give up everything to follow Christ, or will we go away sad?
 

Let’s look at our two options: Herod first, then the magi.
 

Over the years, cutthroat politics and political murders have hardened Herod’s heart into stone. We’d like to think that he’s awful and we’re nothing like him. But scripture is a mirror, and we can see at least a bit of ourselves in everyone. In this case, in Herod’s pride we see our refusal to give ourselves completely to Christ. We see that something in our life keeps us from God—envy, lust, greed, indifference. Are we willing to accept the reign of Christ in our lives, even if it means giving up the things we cling to most? Herod preferred a petty kingdom to the Kingdom of Heaven. I pray we won’t do the same.

 

The magi, on the other hand, don’t care what they stand to lose because they understand what they stand to gain. For nothing more than the love of Christ and the opportunity to return that love they make a long and difficult desert journey. Then, when they arrive, the offer expensive gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. These were luxury items in the ancient world, but they also represent the gifts that every Christian can give to their Lord. Gold represents almsgiving, giving of our wealth to care for Christ still present in the poor. Frankincense, used in temple worship, represents our prayer, rising up to God like incense at Mass. Myrrh, though, is a little less obvious. It was used in burials and is associated with death. It represents our fasting and small, daily acts of self-sacrifice. We unite these to Jesus’ suffering and death on the cross and they become the salvation of the world, not to mention they help us let go of those things that cause us to hang back with Herod. When we give Jesus the myrrh of our self-sacrifice, we tell him, “Here, take this, Jesus. I don’t need it, and I don’t want it to come between us.” We can all be wise by giving Jesus ourselves through the gold of almsgiving, the frankincense of our prayer, and the myrrh of fasting and small acts of self-sacrifice. And we bring these gifts to every Mass. So let us leave the palace of Herod behind us to follow the example of the magi, bringing our gifts to Christ the newborn king. Come, let us adore him.