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Magi, Wise Men or
Kings?
It’s Complicated
CHAD
ASHBY
They’re the three
men in glittering velvet robes and fake beards in the living nativity at
church.
Sometimes they tow a live camel. Bearing gifts,
they traversed afar, following yonder star through the back of the sanctuary in
the grand crescendo of our beloved annual Christmas pageant.
I’m speaking, of course, of the Magi. Or is it wise
men? Wait, kings?
Perhaps
if Luke the historian had written about them in his Christmas account, we might
have had precise details.
But Matthew’s account is vague, shrouded in mystery: “Now
after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king,
behold, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem…” (Matthew
2:1).
Intrigue swirls around these festooned foreigners. Where did they
come from?
With a
wink Matthew writes, “the East.”
Indeed,
his description is so utterly “specific” that church traditions in dozens of
countries claim to be their country of origin.
And who
were they? Technically speaking, Matthew calls them magi—but what are
magi? Are they kings? Wise men? Sorcerers? Astrologers?
Christians have been trying to nail down their identity for
millennia. As early as A.D. 200, Tertullian was laying out arguments that the
Magi, while astrologers by trade, were considered kings.
To the contrary, John Calvin felt strongly about anyone who would
label them “three kings”: “Beyond all
doubt, they have been stupefied by a righteous judgment of God, that all might
laugh at [their] gross ignorance.”
Adding
a further wrinkle, first-century naturalist Pliny the Elder wrote several
chapters about the Magi wherein they sound more like something from a Harry
Potter novel.
He
details their skill in magic arts—including pouring boiled earthworms in the
ear to cure a toothache!
Despite the disagreement, here are a few facts.
The word magus is
of Persian origin; however, Basil indicated that they were not confined to a
specific empire but “scattered all over
the country.”
First-century
Jewish historian Philo referred to Balaam from Numbers 22–24 as a magus.
This
anachronism indicates that by the first century A.D. it may have been adopted
for more general use.
Herodotus’s
accounts of magi in his Histories (440 B.C.) portrays them as conniving
political figures vying for royal power.
Various
kings in the ancient world frequently consulted these men because of their
skill in interpreting omens, signs, and the stars.
These external witnesses corroborate the picture of magi we see in
the Old Testament.
The
Persians and their magi crop up in the biblical timeline in the days of Daniel
and Esther.
One particular statement concerning King Xerxes’s magi might raise
an eyebrow: “Then the king said to the wise men who knew the times…the men next to
him being…the seven princes of Persia and Media, who saw the king's face, and
sat first in the kingdom” (Esther 1:13–14).
These
seven men—clearly magi—are
also labeled “wise men” and “princes.”
So, are
the titles interchangeable? And what do they signify?
As we reconsider these familiar Christmas characters, could it be
Matthew was being intentionally vague with his coy “magi from the East”?
Call
Them Magi.
The term magi is the precise Greek word used in Matthew’s
gospel.
His
story demonstrates that the Magi were astrologers and interpreters of
omens—following a star and dreaming dreams.
When they arrived in Jerusalem, their curt bluntness had King
Herod spitting out his morning coffee: “Where is he who has been born king of the
Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him” (Matthew
2:2).
These visitors were like a blast from the Hebrews’ past.
The
book of Daniel chronicles how he and his companions spent 70 years exiled among
magi in the East.
King
Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon was in the habit of gathering the best and brightest
from his vanquished foes into an advisory body of wise men, stargazers, and
dreamers.
When he captured Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, he added
them to his menagerie of magi, “and in every matter of wisdom and
understanding about which the king questioned them, he found them ten times
better than all the magicians and enchanters (Greek magi) in his whole kingdom” (Daniel
1:20).
In one episode from the book of Daniel, Nebuchadnezzar had an
ominous dream.
Summoning his magi and enchanters, he demanded, “If
you do not tell me what my dream was and interpret it, I will have you cut into
pieces and your houses turned into piles of rubble” (Daniel 2:5).
When
the magi only succeeded in coming up with excuses, Daniel rescued them all with
the dream and interpretation from the Lord.
In awestruck gratitude, “the king placed Daniel in a high position
and lavished many gifts on him. He made him ruler over the entire province of
Babylon and placed him in charge of all its wise men” (Daniel 2:48).
The whole episode with Daniel and the magi should feel like
biblical déjà vu.
Another
famous Old Testament king had a penchant for keeping his court packed with wise
men, astrologers, and magicians: Pharaoh of Egypt.
Genesis
tells of a young man named Joseph who was carted off to exile in Egypt.
One
night Pharaoh awoke from a terrifying dream. He found that none of his
magicians could provide an interpretation.
It was
Joseph, the Hebrew exile in prison, who provided Pharaoh with God’s
interpretation.
In response, Pharaoh clothed Joseph like a king,
“and they called out before him, ‘Bow the knee!’ Thus [Pharaoh] set him over
all the land of Egypt” (Genesis 41:43, ESV).
Long
before Daniel, Joseph knew what it was like to have magi bow before him.
When you call Matthew’s journeymen magi this
Christmas, don’t
be surprised to find them bowing before a Hebrew and heralding him as king.
At
Jesus’ birth, recognize how the tables have turned.
This
time, a star led the Magi into exile, sojourning in search of the scepter
rising out of Israel (Numbers 24:17).
This
time, they do not find a man seated at the right hand of Pharaoh or
Nebuchadnezzar, but a child seated on his mother’s lap.
As they
bow and worship, they become the first to recognize the end from the beginning.
This child would surpass both Daniel and Joseph as chief of the
magi: “And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth
has been given to me’” (Matthew 28:18).
Call
Them Wise Men
Perhaps the word magi feels a
little too foreign for you. Have no fear! Wise men is a
perfectly acceptable translation.
Cicero describes magi as being “wise
and learned men among the Persians.”
In
fact, the Hebrew word wise men is used much
more frequently in the Old Testament to designate this class of astrological
advisors.
Gentile
kings valued these men for their wisdom concerning the affairs of the kingdom.
Many of the early church fathers saw significance in wise men bringing
gold, frankincense, and myrrh “from the East.”
In the
estimation of Justin Martyr, Clement of Alexandria, and Tertullian these gifts
were particularly Arabian in nature.
Martin Luther agreed. He writes concerning the wise men, “At first they did not consider this king to
be God, but in the usual manner took him [Jesus] for a temporal king, just as
the queen of Sheba considered Solomon a king, coming to him with presents from
her country.”
Luther read Matthew 2 and thought: Foreigners from Arabia bringing
gifts and seeking wisdom in Jerusalem? We’ve heard this story before.
The story echoed in the wise men of Matthew 2 comes from 1 Kings
10: “When
the queen of Sheba heard about the fame of Solomon and his relationship to the
Lord, she came to test Solomon with hard questions.
Arriving
at Jerusalem with a very great caravan—with camels carrying spices, large
quantities of gold, and precious stones - she came to Solomon and talked with
him about all that she had on her mind.
During her visit, the depth of Solomon’s wisdom took her breath
away: “In wisdom and wealth you have far exceeded the report I heard”
(1 Kings 10:7).
Laying
her gifts of gold, spice, and precious stones before him, she blessed the Lord
for making Solomon king.
Maybe you prefer to call the visitors bearing treasure chests of
gold, frankincense, and myrrh wise men this
Christmas.
As you
do, follow them in the footsteps of the queen of Sheba across the wilderness in
search of the wisdom of God in Jerusalem.
However,
as Matthew tells it, the wisdom of God was not to be found in the king’s palace
in Jerusalem, but in the small town of Bethlehem.
As you watch them lay their gifts before baby Jesus, realize that “something
greater than Solomon is here” (Matthew 12:42).
This
little child is himself the Wisdom of God.
May you join the Arabian Queen in her prayer: “Because of the Lord’s eternal
love for Israel, he has made you king to maintain justice and righteousness” (1 Kings
10:9).
Call
Them Kings.
But what of calling them kings? After
all, they always wear crowns in our Christmas pageants, and we all know the
carol “We Three Kings.”
The
medieval church heavily preferred this designation - much to the dismay of many
of the Reformers.
But
Matthew’s Magi would not be the first wise men to be considered kings: Joseph
and Daniel—both Hebrew magi of sorts - were elevated to royal status.
We also
find magi receiving royal honors elsewhere in ancient literature.
In Histories, Herodotus
chronicles a bizarre episode in the Persian Empire where two magi brothers
staged a coup for royal power.
After
King Smerdis died, one of the magi, also named Smerdis - who bore a striking
resemblance to the late king - sat on the throne as an impersonator!
As early as the second century Tertullian considered the Magi to
be kings.
He argued their visit fulfilled Solomon’s prayer in Psalm 72 — “May
the kings of Sheba and Seba present him gifts.”
But Tertullian found Isaiah 60 to be the most compelling evidence:
“Nations
will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn…and all from
Sheba will come, bearing gold and incense and proclaiming the praise of the
Lord.”
It’s
impossible to miss the clear parallels to Matthew 2.
We may never know whether the Magi were literal kings, but the
idea of kings bringing treasure from Babylon is a compelling way to envision
the beginning of Matthew’s gospel.
In the
days of Isaiah, King Hezekiah received a friendly envoy of Babylonians in
Jerusalem.
In a moment of hubris, he showed them “the silver, the gold, the
spices, the fine olive oil—his entire armory and everything found among his
treasures” (Isaiah 39:2).
Isaiah warned Hezekiah that these Babylonians had made a mental
note of his storehouses: “The time will surely come when everything
in your palace, and all that your predecessors have stored up until this day,
will be carried off to Babylon. Nothing will be left, says the Lord” (Isaiah
39:6).
Sure
enough, in 587 B.C. the Babylonian king, Nebuchadnezzar, did just that,
capturing and plundering Jerusalem.
In
fact, Daniel recounts a raucous party in the Babylonian capital where the
Babylonian king used the golden cups from the Lord’s temple to take shots (Daniel
5:1-4).
So, if you prefer to call the Magi kings this
Advent season, recognize how you are proclaiming the return of Jerusalem’s treasuries
from exile.
As
these kings travel the road from Babylon in the East to Jerusalem, they bring
back the gold, frankincense, and myrrh stolen so many years before from David’s
house.
This is
what Isaiah promised would happen.
The same foreigners that looted Jerusalem would one day, “rebuild
[her] walls, and their kings will serve [her]” (Isaiah
60:10).
Matthew
shows us that what Nehemiah and Ezra experienced under Cyrus the Persian was a
mere foretaste of the riches God would return to his Messiah in Jerusalem.
At
Christmas, the kings bring the treasures back to Jerusalem.
It
signals the beginning of the eternal restoration of David’s wealth, the
rebuilding of David’s city, and the rejoicing of David’s people.
Call them Magi. Call them wise men. You can even call them kings
if you’d like!
When it
comes to Matthew’s Christmas narrative, the more the merrier.
Each
label shines a light on a different facet of the story.
Whatever
you choose to call them this holiday season, these men are the first in the
canonical New Testament to bow and worship the Lord Jesus.
This
Christmas we would do well to follow their example.
Chad Ashby is a pastor at College Street Baptist Church in
Newberry, South Carolina, and writes regularly at After+Math He is a
graduate of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary and Grove City College.
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