Bearing Gifts We Traverse Afar

This is a conversation that may or may not have taken place early in January during the reign of Octavius Caesar somewhere within the Roman province of Palestine. A small camp was pitched on the crest of a lonely hill. The cries of the drivers and the snorts and stamping of pack animals had died away to almost nothing and most of the camp was silent. The soldiers were hard asleep in their tents, except for the silent few who stood on watch around the camp.

And in the heart of the camp, three men sat talking in a dim tent lit only by a smoky, flickering lamp. They were all dressed in robes of silk, of a strange, eastern design, for these men came from the east--from a small empire which, though rich and powerful, was almost unknown to those outside its realm (and which has been completely forgotten today).

"Gentlemen, we are going to have to make our decision now," said one of the men. He was a short man, beardless, with thick black hair and a brow lined by constant worry. A career in politics will do that to a man. "We can be in Bethlehem within an hour. Are we going on or not?"

"Do we have a choice, Gaspar?" asked one of the other men, his voice suave and cynical.

"Yes, Malchior, we do. I know we've been trying to put off dealing it as long as possible, but now it's time--we've got to face the truth."

"I thought it was the truth we were searching for," said the third man.

The man called Melchior laughed. "We all know what choice Balthazar will make. All this star talk has gone to his head." Malchior was the tallest of the three men, with a high forehead and fair hair and a face that would have pleasant if it had not been so entirely cynical. His robe was also the most ornate of the three, being covered with arcane designs and cabalistic symbols the meanings of which he was entirely (and blissfully) in ignorance. Officially the priest of the goddess of heaven (the highest deity of his empire), he was none-the-less a complete skeptic.

"It is right that the stars go to my head," said Balthazar, "for then, perhaps, my head will go to the stars." He was the oldest of the three; his brown hair was streaked with gray and his long beard was almost entirely gray. His robe was very simple and plain, as befitted a man whose occupation was the pursuit of wisdom.

"Which sounds very pretty," remarked Malchior, "but means absolutely nothing. Like this whole story about the star and a baby and a king and I don't know what else. I don't understand how anyone could believe in it. Which brings up the obvious question--how on earth did we ever end up stuck on this wild goose chase?"

Gaspar's worried frown deepened. "Of course you know--"

"I know that Our Beloved Emperor theoretically sent us to find a newborn king and present him with gifts--"

"Because of the star," added Balthazar. "You must not forget the star."

"Believe me, I'm not likely to forget it. A bright star appears in the west and for some reason which I quite fail to grasp we are supposed to think that means a new king has been born out here somewhere."

"It was prophesied in the writings of the Jewish prophet Moses. 'I shall see him, but not now: I shall behold him, but not nigh: there shall come a Star out of Jacob, and a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel.'"

Malchior frowned impatiently. "So you've told us. Some times, Balthazar, you are incredibly credulous, even for a philosopher."

The older man shrugged simply. "I have given my life to seeking for wisdom, in collecting the wisdom of all the sages of all civilized people. Can you blame me for thinking it might be possible, after searching for wisdom, to find it? If I did not believe there were answers, would I not be a fool to ask the questions?"

"You are a fool, yes, if that's what you were asking. Though somehow you convinced Our Beloved Emperor--and so here were are in this little backwater territory looking for a king whom even the locals don't believe exists."

"That is not true. There are some who believe."

"There are some who say they believe. We all know that there's a difference. Of course, these people stick to their story, just as we have to stick to ours on state occasions. I didn't see any difference between those scribes we talked to in Jerusalem and my own acolytes back home. If they really thought their Messiah (or whatever it is they call him) is wandering around here somewhere, then why didn't they come with us? They told us to look in Basingstoke--"

"Bethlehem," Balthazar corrected.

"Whatever. Point being, you don't see any of them out here, do you? You wouldn't see them risking getting their robes dirty in Bethlehem. No, they're back there in their temple sniggering at us right now."

"I didn't sense much interest," agreed Gaspar cautiously. "Other than in King Herod. And I'm not sure I liked his interest."

"I'm quite certain that I didn't. In fact, I didn't like much about Herod. I'm sure I can't imagine why they call him Herod the Great. There wasn't anything that great about him."

"I think he must have started that himself. He was a little stuck on himself."

"But there are some who believe," repeated Balthazar doggedly. "What of those shepherds we met this afternoon--who claim--"

"Who claim that an angel appeared out of nowhere and told them that a king was born in a cattle's food trough. Yes, I remember them."

Gaspar frowned again. "I know that story was a little incredible, but it was odd. I mean, they were first-hand witnesses according to their own account, and I wouldn't imagine someone making up a story like that. The very oddity of it--the part about the baby being laid in a food trough--seemed to tell in its favor. It makes sense, and yet it's not the kind of detail someone would make up if it hadn't really happened. It's too embarrassing."

"What, Gaspar, are you becoming a believer now too? Do you really think their story was true?"

"I'm a politician, Malchior. I'm not trained to think in terms of true and false, but of practical matters."

"Which is surely a little impractical," remarked Balthazar.

"I never said I liked the system." Gaspar sounded very tired. "But it's what we've got. The wheel goes around and around and you've got to go with it if you don't want to get run over."

"Unless someone could come from outside the wheel and set us all free."

Gaspar stood up suddenly. "Don't you realize, Balthazar, that I wish I could believe that? I know earth is corrupt--I wish I could believe that the heavens are not, and that from thence might come something to deliver us. But I just can't."

"The heavens are neither corrupted nor uncorrupted," Malchior corrected, "because the heavens are dead. The stars are not gods nor messengers of any deity--neither the God of the Jews nor our own heavenly goddess. Stars are merely large lights just like any candle."

"Or candles are merely small lights like stars."

"Your remarks are witty, Balthazar, but they prove nothing. We are wise men and we know that the stars follow fixed, scientific patterns and have nothing to do with events on earth or with the will of any god."

"Unless it was the will of God that the stars follow those fixed, scientific patterns."

"Besides," added Gaspar thoughtfully, "you'll have to admit that this star did not behave according to the rules of astronomy as we knew them. Almost as if it were supernatural..."

"It seemed to be supernatural--but so does everything until you know how it works. Comets were thought by our ancestors to be portents of the wrath of the gods and that they came at random, but now we know that they follow certain, predictable rules. Given enough time, we will learn the rules that govern the behavior of this odd, new star."

"We have learned the rules of one thing and therefore we shall learn the rules of something else?" Balthazar's black eyes flashed suddenly, though his voice was still subdued as he spoke. "Surely that is inexcusable dogma for a cynic. How can you know that because some things have a natural explanation that all things have natural explanations? The only one who could know that is God."

Gaspar pressed his fingers against his forehead. "You two and your arguments will drive me mad before this journey is over. Talk, talk, and more talk. None of it changes the fact that we have one brutally practical question before us."

"I don't see that," remarked Malchior lazily. "Tomorrow we go down into Bethlehem and make fools of ourselves, and then turn around and go home. What's the choice?"

"Have neither of you realized why we're here?" asked Gaspar, leaning forward.

"We are here to find him who is born king of the Jews."

"No, Balthazar--I mean the real reason."

"I thought that was the real reason."

"Look--I'm not going to argue with you. Malchior is the arguer around here. For anything I know to the contrary, the star really may be the sign of a newborn king. But I was certain from the beginning that a man like Our Beloved Emperor wouldn't believe such a story and wouldn't give a fig about the new king even if he did believe it."

"That's what I thought," said Malchior. "But if that's true, then what on earth are we doing here?"

"I wondered about it at first, but we weren't out more than a week before I realized the truth. We are all important man; you, Malchior, as the chief priest; you, Balthazar, as the leader of the royal philosophers, and myself, of course, because of my position in the court."

"And?" Malchior pressed.

"And important people are always expendable. Oh, don't look so shocked, we all know it happens. We were not sent out here to find the new king--whether or not there is a new king--we were sent to get us out of the way back home. In certain quarters, it would be worth a little money to get rid of us."

Gaspar had expected his announcement to make more of an impression on his two friends. Balthazar only shrugged as if it meant nothing to him, and there was a light in Malchior's eyes as if he were almost pleased with the news.

"It does seem appropriate," said Malchior slowly. "Here we are on a quest after an impossible story and it turns out the very reason we are here is itself a lie."

"Or perhaps," Balthazar returned quietly, "it is to remind us that we are seeking something compared to which all the honors of earth are empty anyway."

Gaspar cleared his throat. "Regardless, it leaves us with an important decision to make."

"I don't follow." Malchior leaned back and yawned. "It's certainly unfortunate, but I don't see what we can do about it now."

"We can choose whether or not to go forward."

"I still don't see that it matters; we're not going to find anything anyway."

"Oh, there's always a chance we'll find something. I don't mean that I necessarily believe Balthazar's version of the story, but it is possible that we will find something. And--"

"And? Really, Gaspar, I've never known you to take so long to get to the point."

"There are our gifts."

There was a moment of silence. Gaspar went on quickly and nervously. "Though they weren't so valuable back home, our little cache of gold, frankincense, and myrrh would bring quite a price in this area. That is the choice--we can go on with our mission, or we can sell our gifts and give up. I think we could get enough to keep us for the rest of our lives and we wouldn't have to go back home, where there's nothing in particular waiting for us."

Balthazar seemed shocked. "But surely--whether the prophecies are true or not--that is a treacherous thing to do."

"I know." Gaspar sounded very tired. "But as I said, I'm a politician--I don't look at matters in terms of right and wrong. I wish I could believe in ideals, but they are like the stars. They are very beautiful, but they do no one any good. You can't eat them; you can't even keep warm by them."

"So that is what you think we should do?"

"I don't know, Balthazar. But we have to decide now--tonight--before we go any further. I feel certain that if we go down into Bethlehem, we will not leave without our gifts, whether there is a real Messiah or not. The story of our mission here has already spread and I imagine there will be several fake Messiahs waiting for us--whether or not there is a true one."

For once, Malchior seemed a little perturbed. "That is an interesting proposition, Gaspar," he said slowly. "It had not crossed my mind before. I suppose that Balthazar will have no part of it."

"You think rightly. For my part, the choice was made long ago. But my action need not dictate yours. If you leave me, I will go on to Bethlehem alone."

"Do you really believe in the prophecy of the Messiah, Balthazar?" Malchior's voice was still suave, but somehow more serious and penetrating now.

"And would I be such a fool if I did? Leave aside your prejudices for a moment, and ask yourself, 'Why should the prophecies not to be true?' If there were a God and He chose to send some sort of Chosen One into the world, might things not fall out just as they have? If such a thing occurred, would it be so strange that the heavens themselves would break from their orderly rules? And there are so many prophecies which seem to fit together; down to the very time at which the Messiah would come--which was predicted by the Jewish prophet Daniel."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I cannot say with certainty that I believe, no, Malchior."

"Than why do you insist on going on?"

"If I believed there were even the slightest chance of the prophecies being true--if I had even more doubts than I do--so long as there was the slightest chance of the Messiah having really come--then I would be a fool to turn back now."

"I'm not sure I follow," said Gaspar, clearing his throat. "Let us grant that it is true--that that new king for the Jews has been born and that the star we saw was a sign of it. What does it matter to us?"

"Because it is the answer to my quest, to the quest of all our lives. If the Messiah were nothing but a King for the Jews--though the prophets hint of something far greater than that--it would still be true. It would still mean that there is something beyond this world, that nonetheless cares about something in this world. It means not only that wisdom and truth do exist, but that wisdom and truth may enter into our lives. The Word is, but the Word may also become flesh. That is why it seems appropriate that my gift is to be myrrh, for myrrh is the perfume of death and suffering. If the light of eternity is to empty itself and become part of this world, it must indeed be a sort of death--and again, the prophets hint of something darker."

"That is very well for you as a philosopher--" Gaspar began.

"No, Gaspar, not just for me. For all of us. You come as a representative of a king, of rulers and judgment--and your gift is gold, the symbol of royalty. I know you well. I know you are not content with the farce that is kingship and politics. What if there was even a chance that there is a meaning to it all, after all? What if there really is a God who is King of all the Earth, a good king, the model from which all our kings have fallen away? What if somehow God has sent a true King into this world, so that the ideal may be real also? Would it not be worth something, everything, to pursue--even if it is only a chance?"

Gaspar sighed. "I wish I could believe that," he repeated. "Certainly, there is something to what you say--"

"And you, Malchior," Balthazar pressed on excitedly, leaning forward with unusual warmth and eagerness, "you are a priest, and your gift is frankincense, the symbol of worship. I know you have been disillusioned by the mere mimicry and priestcraft which is our religion. You have seen it all and your conclusion is that all worship is merely mimicry and priestcraft, fear and superstition. You think all gods and goddesses are merely crutches for the weak and clubs for the strong. But what if you were wrong? What if there were really one worthy of worship, and that one was somehow manifested in the world so that heaven and earth could truly unite in praise?"

"'What if? What if? What if?'" Malchior mimicked. "You can spin suppositions all night, Balthazar--but it doesn't change the fact that the whole thing is absurd from beginning to end."

"So has all your talk and philosophy been only mimicry and priestcraft too, Malchior? When you would tell us that you despised your work as a priest because it was a constant round of lies was that too a lie? Do you care so little for the truth that you would not take a risk to find it? And have you found conventional wisdom so satisfying that you feel no need for unconventional wisdom?"

Malchior seemed only a little softened. "You speak well, but in the end, you are asking the impossible--you are asking me to believe the unbelievable."

"No. I am asking you to look for the findable. I do not ask that you believe on my testimony--I do not know that I believe myself. All I ask is that you come with me to seek the child--to see if the stories may not be true." Suddenly Balthazar leaped to his feet. "If nothing else, my friends, let me ask you this--is not the truth worth pursuing? We have come so close to the truth--even if we are wrong and it is not there, would it not be nobler to sacrifice everything on the chance of finding it, then to sell out our honor and live on in the very sort of worldly hypocrisy we all in our hearts despise? Whether or not there is a Messiah to whom we can give our gifts, would it not be far better to look for him then to give up and turn our backs on the only hope we have?"

"There's something in that," admitted Malchior finally, his voice still but little changed. "We are men who have complained about all the lies, perhaps it is right that we risk something to seek the truth. But what does it matter? Even if there is a Messiah in Bethlehem, what chance do we have of finding him? If there really were a God and he had desired us to find the child, he would have given us some sign."

They sat for a moment in silence, and then Gaspar was roused from thought by a noise outside. "Something's going on. Let me look." He stepped to the door flap of the tent and looked out. When he spoke again, there was a new note in his voice. "Malchior! Balthazar! Come here! There's something you need to see."

The other two hurried to join him, looking out at the night sky.

"Is that enough for you, Malchior?" asked Balthazar after a moment of silence.

"It is enough. Let us go and seek. Perhaps, if we do, we may find."


"When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy." (Matthew 2:10)