- December 21, 2024
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Editor's note: A version of this has appeared annually since 2010.
In this season to be jolly, it is, by golly, sometimes hard to be jolly.
And if you’re not all that jolly, when you think of what you, your family, your friends, your business and your work colleagues have endured in this trying year, perhaps we should put it in perspective — keep our perspective on what this season is really all about.
Compare, for instance, our lives today to those of Mary and Joseph in the year 4 A.D.
We all know what happened on Christmas — as St. Luke masterfully wrote in his Gospel (see box). But having some of the context that led up to that holy, remarkable day adds to its richness.
In truth, Jesus’ birth is a story for Jews and Christians alike. After all, Jesus’ parents, Mary and Joseph, were Jews. And the setting for this momentous, monumental event was in the heart of the land that God promised to Abraham and Moses: Israel.
The main characters leading up to Jesus’ birth — Mary; Joseph; Mary’s cousin, Elizabeth; and her husband, Zacharias — were anything but celebrities in their day. They were as common as Iowa farmers. And yet, in reality, Mary and Joseph were indeed connected to royalty. Biblical scholars tell us they actually were both descendants from the lineage of King David, the longtime king of Israel.
But at that time — around 4 B.C. — the Jews of Judea (central Israel) were anything but a privileged, royal class. They were living under the rule of Caesar Augustus and his vast Roman empire and under a maniac ruler, King Herod, an Arab-Jew who was a client king for Caesar Augustus.
Imagine life under Herod. The biblical historian Josephus wrote that “Herod inflicted such outrages upon the Jews as not even a beast could have done if it possessed the power to rule over men.” So vile and monstrous, Herod became infamous for murdering his wife, three of his own sons, his father-in-law, his brother-in-law and 300 of his military leaders.
On top of this, and even though Herod allowed Jews to practice their religion without much interference, the Jews also had to contend with the Samaritans, half-Jew, half-Gentile who lived between Judea and Galilee.
“The enmity between Jew and Samaritan was so intense” wrote biblical historian James Edward Talmadge, “that travelers between Judea and Galilee would make long detours rather than pass through Samaria.”
This is what Mary and Joseph faced when they received word of Caesar Augustus’ order for a census. He demanded that everyone register in his hometown. For Mary and Joseph, this meant traveling from Nazareth in Galilee in the north to Bethlehem in Judea in the south — an 80-mile, four-day journey that would have taken them right through Samaria. And let’s not forget: Mary was nine months pregnant.
In his gospel on the birth of Christ, St. Luke was sparing on the details of Mary and Joseph’s trip. The fact there are few details must mean it was mostly uneventful. But you could imagine it otherwise: Any woman in her ninth month of pregnancy is physically miserable — can’t sit for long stretches, can’t sleep, constant heartburn, hemorrhoids. So imagine Mary and Joseph traveling in a caravan, with Mary riding much of the trip on a donkey. The nights were cold.
On Dec. 23, they had two days to go before reaching Bethlehem. And at this point, they would just be passing through Samaria. Jewish travelers who dared that route were marks for bandits.
But we know God was watching over Mary and Joseph. They made it to Bethlehem, only to find out there was no room at the inn.
Bethlehem was normally a sleepy little town, but it was bustling with Jews who had returned to register for the census.
Mary and Joseph, we know, found a stable. But this wasn’t the stable we see on the Hallmark Christmas cards. The stables in those days often were dark, cold caves with “mangers” — animal-feeding troughs carved into the stone walls. The mangers in those days were not wooden cribs padded with dry, neatly arranged hay.
With nowhere else to go, Mary gave birth — under the stars; amid the manure and muck; among the sheep, cows, goats and chickens; no doctors present to administer an epidural; with Joseph, her carpenter husband, assisting as best he could. Those who have witnessed birth know it’s difficult in a hospital bed. Imagine the scene in a smelly, dark, cold cave.
Yet this lowly, humble setting was the way Jesus Christ, the savior whom God sent for mankind, came into this world.
Now contrast the differences: Caesar Augustus maneuvering for worldly power and the biggest worldwide celebrity of his day; Herod, a regional celebrity, abusing his power in unspeakable ways. They were all about self-centered status, power and ego.
Mary and Joseph were the antithesis. Humble, not wealthy, ordinary in all appearances. And yet they were extraordinary.
God sent his messenger, the angel Gabriel, and stunned Mary, that she would conceive miraculously and bring forth a son who would “reign over the house of Jacob forever.” She would be his mother.
And Joseph, the quiet carpenter, he fretted over what would happen to Mary, his fiancee, if people found out she was pregnant before they were married. Gabriel gave comfort to Joseph, just as he did to Mary.
And with humility, without complaint and far below the status of celebrity, they carried out God’s will, remembering all the while Gabriel’s assurance to Mary: “For with God, nothing shall be impossible.”
This is our heritage.
If we do anything in this holiday season, we should keep our perspective — give thanks to God and bring “peace on Earth, good will toward men.”
Happy Hanukkah. Merry Christmas.
This originally appeared in 2023.
One of the precepts learned in journalism school is there are at least two sides to every story. Truth is, there are more.
Throughout most of Christianity, Christ’s birth has followed that journalistic precept. There are two accounts of Christ’s birth — that of Gospel writers Matthew and Luke.
But their versions differ. Matthew wrote of Magi arriving from the east after following a star. Luke wrote of shepherds in a field, where an angel told them what happened. Matthew wrote of the Magi giving baby Jesus gold, frankincense and myrrh. Luke said nothing about gifts.
You wonder: Who were those guys anyway?
In today’s 24-7 media world, you can be sure frothing-at-the-mouth media would be all over that story ad nauseum. They would not just be writing about Jesus, Mary and Joseph. You know they also would be searching madly to find and get interviews with the first outsiders to see the baby Jesus.
What’s their story?
Not surprisingly, there is indeed another version to this story. And it’s a doozy.
Hidden in the bowels of the Vatican Library in Rome is a manuscript said to be written in the third or fourth century A.D. It’s called the “Revelation of the Magi” — a detailed account of Christ’s birth told from the perspective of the Magi.
Brent Landau, an American biblical scholar fascinated by the Magi since he was a boy, happened upon an article about the “Revelation of the Magi” while doing research for his doctorate. In 2010, Landau authored and had published the book: “Revelation of the Magi: The Lost Tale of the Wise Men’s Journey to Bethlehem.”
Landau’s work was extraordinary: the first English translation of this long-forgotten and hidden manuscript, translated from the ancient and little known Christian language of Syriac.
Landau’s translation begins the Magi’s story at the beginning — in the Garden of Eden. Landau:
“These Magi are members of an ancient mystical order and reside in a semi-mythical land called Shir, located in the extreme east of the world, at the short of the Great Ocean. The ‘Revelation of the Magi’ says these individuals are called ‘Magi’ in the language of their country because they pray in silence.”
“These mystics … are the descendants of Seth, the third son of Adam and Eve,” Landau writes. “The Magi inherited from Seth a prophecy of supreme importance for the world: a star of indescribable brightness will someday appear, heralding the birth of God in human form.
“Seth himself had learned about this prophecy from his father, Adam, since the star originally had hovered over the Tree of Life, illuminating all of Eden, before Adam’s sin caused the star to vanish.”
Landau describes how the Magi carried out rituals for thousands of years in expectation of one day seeing this bright star. And they did.
“As promised,” according to the text of the Revelation, “the star is indescribably bright, so bright that the sun becomes as faint as the daytime moon; yet because the Magi alone are worthy of guarding this prophecy, the star can be seen by no one but them.
“The Magi enter the [Cave of Treasures] and bow before the star, whose incredible light gradually dissipates to reveal a small, luminous human! This ‘star child’ reveals to the Magi that he is the Son of God …The star-child instructs the Magi to follow it to Jerusalem so they may witness its birth and participate in the salvation God has planned for the entire world.”
According to the Revelation, the Magi weren’t the three kings — Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar, presenting gold, frankincense and myrrh. According to the Revelation, there were 12 Magi: “These are kings, sons of Eastern kings, in the land of Shir.”
In line with Matthew’s reporting, the Magi found the cave where Jesus was born. The Revelation has a twist, however, that isn’t in Matthew’s Gospel: Mary expresses her fear that the Magi had come to take Jesus in exchange for the gifts they brought.
The text of the Revelation says Christ reassured her: “Peace to you, my mother and upbringer …”
Of course, we don’t have the space here for all of the details in this Revelation. They are fantastical and well worth reading.
Are they true? Traditional biblical scholars say the “Revelation of the Magi” is “an apocryphal” account — outside the mainstream. But as Landau noted, “For European Christians in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, this story had immense influence.”
As always, there is more to every story. This one can indeed enrich your views of the greatness of the birth of Christ.