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THE FOURTH MAGI
Artaban's Gifts - 03-01-10
In the days of Herod the king, when the Saviour of the
world, was born in a poor cave near Bethlehem, an
enormous star suddenly lit up the sky over the countries
of the East. The star shone with a bright, dazzling
light and slowly but steadily moved in one direction,
towards the land of the Hebrews. The astronomers, or
magi as they were called, took note of this new light.
They thought it was a sign from God that somewhere had
been born the Great King, whose coming had been foretold
in the Hebrew books, the King of Righteousness, the
Deliverer of people from evil, the Teacher of a new,
righteous life. Several of them, who devoted themselves
especially diligently to the study of God's truth on
earth, and were grieved by the extent of men's
wickedness, decided to go seek for the newborn King, to
worship Him and serve Him. Just where they would find
Him, they didn't know; perhaps they would have to travel
a long time. At that time the route towards the Hebrew
land was dangerous. They decided to gather first in a
specified place, and then to proceed together in a
caravan, following the star in search of the Great King.
Together with the other magi, the great Persian wise man
Artaban prepared for the journey. He sold all his
possessions, his elegant home in the capital, and with
the money he bought three precious gems: a sapphire, a
ruby and a pearl. These jewels were extremely costly; a
whole fortune was paid for them. Indeed, they were each
uniquely beautiful. One shone like a piece of blue sky
in a starry night; another burned brighter than a
brilliant sunrise; the third surpassed in whiteness the
snowy mountain peaks. All of this, together with a heart
full of the most fervent, unreserved love, Artaban was
going to lay at the feet of the newly-born King of
righteousness and goodness.
In his house Artaban gathered for the last time his
close friends, said his good-byes and departed on his
journey. It was several days' ride to the gathering
place, but Artaban was confident he wouldn't be late. He
had a strong, swift horse; he had precisely calculated
the time it would take, and each day he covered the
appointed distance. The last twenty-four hours arrived
with only a few dozen miles to his destination, and he
chose to ride all night in order to arrive by dawn. His
faithful horse was still far from worn out; the night
breeze was cool; in the infinite sky above shone the new
star, like a bright lamp burning before the altar of
God. "There it is, God's sign!" said Artaban to himself,
keeping his eyes fixed on the star. "The Great King is
coming to us from the sky, and soon, Lord, I shall see
You."
"Faster, my friend! Increase your pace!" he encouraged
his horse, gently slapping the reins.
The horse responded, his hooves pounding louder and
faster along the road through the forest of palm trees.
The darkness began to dissipate; here and there came the
chirping of awakening birds. One could sense the
nearness of morning. Suddenly the horse drew up short,
snorted and started to move backwards. Artaban peered
into the half-light and there, almost under the horse's
very hooves, he saw a man lying. He quickly dismounted
and inspected the prostrate figure. He turned out to be
a Jew, exhausted by a raging fever. One could have taken
him for dead but for the weak, barely audible groans
which broke intermittently from his cracked lips.
Artaban deliberated: to pass by, to hasten to the
meeting place, leaving the sick man was something his
conscience wouldn't allow; but to remain with the Jew in
order to revive him would take several hours, and he
would be late for the rendez-vous; the caravan would
leave without him. What shall I do? thought Artaban.
I'll go on, he decided, and he lifted his foot into the
stirrup. But the sick man, sensing that his last hope
was about to abandon him, groaned so pitiably that its
pain resonated in the magus's heart.
"Great God!" he prayed. "You know my thoughts. You know
my efforts to see you. Direct my steps! Is it not your
voice of love which is speaking in my heart. I cannot
pass by; I must help this unfortunate Jew."
With these words the magi returned to the sick man; he
loosened his clothing and brought him some water from a
nearby stream. He refreshed the man's face and moistened
his dry lips. From a pack attached to his saddle his
obtained some medicine, mixed it with some wine and
poured it into the Jew's mouth; he rubbed his chest and
hands, gave him something to sniff, and so spent many
hours with the sick man. Dawn had long ago come and
gone, the sun already stood high in the sky; it was
approaching noon when the Jew was finally able to get to
his feet. He didn't know how to thank the kind stranger.
"Who are you?" the Jew asked Artaban. "Tell me for whom
I and my family should pray to God until the last of our
days? And why are you so sad? What grief afflicts you?"
Artaban told him who he was and where he was going. "My
friends have certainly left without me," he said
sorrowfully, "and I shall not see the King of my
desires."
The Jew's face lit up.
"Do not be sad, my benefactor. I can repay you in a very
small way for your kindness. In my sacred scriptures it
is said that the King of righteousness promised by God
will be born in the city of Bethlehem of Judah. Even if
your friends have left, you can make you way to
Bethlehem and, if the Messiah has been born, you will
find Him there."
The Jew thanked the Persian magi once again and the two
men went their separate ways. Artaban turned back; it
would be folly to attempt the journey through the desert
alone; he needed to hire some men for protection, to buy
some camels and load them with provisions and water. A
week went by. He was obliged to sell one of the gems in
order to equip his caravan, but Artaban didn't sorrow
too much; he still had two gems. The main thing was not
to be late in reaching the King. He hurried the
servants, and the caravan moved as quickly as possible.
Finally, they reached Bethlehem. Tired, dusty, but
happy, he rode up to the first house. He went in and
showered the host with questions.
"Did some men from the East come here to Bethlehem?
Where did they go? Where are they now?"
The mistress of the house, a young woman, was nursing a
baby and at first shied away from the stranger, but then
she calmed down and related that a few days earlier some
foreigners had come in search of Mary of Nazareth and
had brought her baby some expensive gifts. Where they
had gone-she didn't know. That very night Mary together
with Joseph and the Baby had left Bethlehem to go into
hiding.
"People say they went to Egypt, that Joseph had a dream
and that the Lord ordained that they should flee from
here."
While the mother spoke the baby fell asleep and a pure
smile played on his pretty, innocent face. Artaban
hadn't had time to think about this news, about what he
should do next, when a commotion broke from the street:
wild cries, the clanging of weapons, women wailing.
Half-dressed women, their heads uncovered, their faces
contorted with fear, ran through the settlement carrying
their infants and crying: "Flee to safety! Herod's
soldiers are killing our children!"
The face of the young mother paled, her eyes grew large.
Pressing the sleeping infant to her breast, she could
only say, "Save the child! Save him, and God will save
you!"
Without a moment's thought, Artaban rushed to the door;
there just beyond the threshold stood the troop's
captain, and behind him could be seen the bestial faces
of the soldiers, their swords red with the blood of
innocent children. Artaban's hand as if automatically
reached into his chest; he produced a bag from which he
extracted one of the remaining gems and gave it to the
captain.
The latter had never seen such a treasure; he clutched
it greedily and rushed his soldiers away to continue
their dreadful business.
The woman fell to her knees before Artaban. "May God
bless you for my child! You are seeking for the King of
righteousness, of love and kindness. May His face shine
before you and may He look upon you with the love with
which I am now looking at you."
Artaban carefully raised the woman to her feet; tears of
mixed joy and sadness ran down his cheeks.
"God of truth, forgive me! For the sake of this woman
and her child I gave away the precious stone which was
meant for you. Will I ever see your face? Here once
again I am late. I shall follow after you into Egypt."
The poor magus walked for a long, long time, seeking the
King of Righteousness. He traveled through many
countries, he saw many different peoples, but nowhere
did he find the desired object of his wanderings. His
heart ached and more than once he wept bitter tears.
"Lord," he thought," how much grief, suffering and
unhappiness there is everywhere. How soon will you
reveal yourself and bring consolation to people's
lives?"
He helped the poor, cared for the sick, consoled the
unfortunate, visited prisoners. From the sale of the
first gem he had money, and he spent this on helping his
neighbor. The last gem, however, he carefully guarded
near his heart, thinking that at least this gift he
could some day bring to the King, when he found Him.
Thirty-three years had gone by since Artaban had left
his homeland. His figure had become stooped, his hair
white, but his heart still burned with love for the One
Whom he sought so long.
One day the elderly magus heard that the Anointed One of
God had appeared in Judea, and that He was performing
many wondrous deeds-by a word He healed the sick, raised
the dead, made saints of sinners and hopelessly wicked
men. Artaban's heart began to race with joy.
"At last," he thought, trembling with emotion, "I shall
find you and be able to serve you."
Arriving in Judea, he discovered that everyone was going
to Jerusalem for the Feast of Passover. There, too, was
the Prophet Jesus whom the magus so desired to see.
Together with crowds of the faithful Artaban reached the
Holy City. He found a great commotion; great multitudes
of people were surging along the streets. "Where are
they hurrying?" asked Artaban. "To Golgotha. It is a
hill on the outskirts of the city where today, together
with two thieves, Jesus Christ of Nazareth is to be
crucified. He claimed to be the Son of God, the King of
the Jews."
Artaban fell to the ground, weeping bitterly.
"Again... again I am late. I never had the opportunity
to see you, Lord, to serve you." But perhaps it isn't
too late after all. I'll go to His torturers and offer
them my last remaining gem. It may be that I can buy His
freedom.
Artaban arose and hastened after the crowd to Golgotha.
Suddenly, at one of the cross-streets, a contingent of
soldiers barred his way. They were dragging a girl to
prison. Recognizing Artaban as a fellow-countryman, she
seized a corner of his clothing.
"Pity me!" she begged. "Free me. I too am from Persia.
My father came here to trade; he brought me and then
fell ill and died. For the debts he incurred they want
to sell me into slavery, for a life of shame. Save me.
Save me from dishonor, save me, I beg you!"
The old magus shuddered. The former battle again broke
out in his heart-to keep the gem for the Great King or
give it away for the sake of the unfortunate girl? Pity
for the girl won out. Artaban reached into the pouch at
his breast and took out his last treasure; he gave the
gemstone to the girl.
"Here, buy with this your freedom, my daughter. For
thirty-three years I have guarded this treasure for my
King. Evidently I am unworthy of bringing Him a gift."
While he spoke, the sky grew clouded. It was midday and
yet it was dark as night. The earth shook and groaned
heavily, as it were. Thunder crashed, lightning ripped
the sky from end to end; a great cracking was heard;
houses shook, walls rocked and stones showered down. A
heavy slate tore off the roof and hit the head of the
old man. He fell to the ground and lay there, pale and
streaming with blood. The girl bent down to help him.
Artaban moved his lips in a barely audible whisper. His
face was radiant. The dying man was looking at Someone
standing invisibly before him. "Lord," he uttered, "but
when did I see you hungry and fed you? When did I see
you thirsty and gave you to drink? Thirty-three years I
looked for you and not once did I see your face; never
was I able to serve you, My King." Like the slight
evening breeze which caressed the hair of the dying man,
there came from above a tender, unearthly voice:
"Truly I say to you, all that you ever did for your
needy brothers you did for Me."
Artaban's face became transfigured. His heart at peace,
he lifted his eyes thankfully to heaven and fell asleep
unto all ages.
The prolonged journeying of the old magi had come to an
end. He had found at last the Great King, the Saviour;
his gifts had been accepted.
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