"The Other Wise Man"

Matthew 3: 1-6, 13-17

December 5, 2010 + Second Sunday in Advent

Pilgrim Congregational United Church of Christ

400 Glenwood Drive

Chattanooga, Tennessee 37404

How many Wise Men came to Bethlehem on the first Christmas? Three, of course. We all know that. Every manger scene has three Wise Men and, usually, three camels. But strangely enough, Matthew’s story of the first Christmas does not say that there were three Wise Men, only that they brought three gifts. So we assume that each brought a gift.

But what if there was another Wise Man? This thought inspired an American Presbyterian minister named Henry Van Dyke more than one hundred years ago. He wrote a novelette he called “The Other Wise Man.” I have shortened it dramatically so I can tell it to you this morning.

In the days when Augustus Caesar was master of many kings and Herod ruled in Jerusalem, there lived, in a city among the mountains of Persia, a man named Artaban. He was one of the Magi, the priests of Zoroaster. People of that religion looked for the fulfillment of the prophecy of Avesta, which said, “There shall arise in Israel an Anointed One, a King. Around him shall shine a mighty brightness, and he shall make life everlasting, incorruptible, and immortal.”

Artaban had three close friends among the Magi, Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar, the ones we know as the Three Wise Men. Together the four friends had searched the ancient prophesies and had computed the time until the coming of the Anointed One, the King. Together they studied the stars and their movements. In the spring of the year we call 6 B.C. they saw two of the greatest planets came together and if the star shone again, that would be their sign to start out for Jerusalem where the prophets declared the great King would come.

Artaban returned home to make ready for the journey. He sold all his possessions and with the money he bought three immense jewels, a deep sapphire, a brilliant large red ruby, and a pure white pearl.

The sign in the heavens did come a few weeks later just as the four friends had expected. Artaban mounted his swiftest horse and began the long ride to join the other three in Babylon. They had agreed to meet there in five days so they could travel to the distant country together. Babylon was farthest for Artaban, but if he rode hard there was just enough time to get to their meeting place.

By nightfall on the fifth day he came in sight of the walls of Babylon. Three more hours riding would take him to the temple where the four Magi had agreed to leave at midnight. But as he passed a grove of palm trees, he saw a dark object in the shadows. It was a man lying near the road. Artaban dismounted and knelt on the ground, but the man was cold and appeared dead. Just as Artaban started to rise and remount, a sigh came from the man’s lips and his fingers reached out to grasp Artaban’s robe.

Now, what? How could Artaban stay there in the darkness to take care of a dying stranger? If he stopped for even an hour he would never reach the temple in time and his friends would think he had given up the idea of the journey. But if he went on, the man would surely die.

Artaban turned back to the sick man and carried him to a little mound at the foot of a palm tree. Hour after hour he labored over him, using the special knowledge of medicine all Magi possessed. At last the man roused and sat up, his strength beginning to return. Artaban learned he was a Hebrew, one of the many Hebrews who lived around Babylon. They spoke for a moment and Artaban quickly explained his journey.

The Jew was terribly sorry for delaying Artaban. He said, “I have nothing to give thee in return for thy help – only this: I can tell thee where to seek the Messiah. Our prophets have said the he would be born not in Jerusalem, but in Bethlehem of Judah. May God take thee safely to that place, because thou hadst pity upon the sick.”

The sun was just coming up as Artaban rode hastily to the temple. No one was to be seen. Just  a note had been left behind. His friends urged him to follow their caravan.

But there was a wide desert to cross and Artaban’s horse was exhausted. There was nothing to do but go into Babylon. There he must sell his sapphire to raise enough money for a small caravan and provisions for the long journey to Bethlehem.

An so, several days later, Artaban, now carrying only two of the great jewels – the ruby and the pearl – began his trip through the desert’s fierce heat. After more than a month he arrived in Bethlehem.

The streets of the village seemed deserted. But as he passed the door of a cottage Artaban heard a woman’s voice singing softly. He looked in and saw a young mother hushing her baby to sleep. She told him of three Wise Men from the East who had appeared in the village three days before. They said a star had guided them to the place where Joseph of Nazareth was lodging with his wife Mary and their new-born child Jesus.

But, she told him, the travelers suddenly disappeared. Then Joseph of Nazareth took the mother and child and fled away. It was whispered they were going to Egypt.

Artaban listened to the woman’s gentle, timid words. The child in her arms looked up in his face, smiled, and reached out to him. Artaban felt his heart warmed by the baby’s touch. Then the young mother laid the baby in its cradle and invited Artaban to rest and eat.

Suddenly, there was noise of wild confusion in the street and a shrieking and wailing of women’s voices: “The soldiers! The soldiers of Herod! They are killing our children!” The young mother’s face grew white with terror. She gathered up her baby and huddled motionless in the darkest corner of the room, covering him with her robe.

Artaban went quickly and stood in the doorway of the house. The soldiers came hurrying the street, swords bloody. The captain approached Artaban to push him aside, but Artaban did not move. He held the soldier silently for an instant, and then said in a low voice, “I am all alone in this place, and I am willing to give this jewel to the wise captain who will leave me in peace.” The captain was amazed by the magnificent ruby. He took the stone and shouted over his shoulder to the other men, “March on! There is no child here. This house is empty.”

Now two of the three jewels were gone. As Artaban left the house the young mother’s thankful tears went with him. He determined to continue his search for the King in Egypt where it was said the man of Nazareth had taken his family.

For many years Artaban moved among the throngs in the crowded cities of Egypt looking for that family from Bethlehem. His search took him past the great pyramids to Alexandria. He looked everywhere among the Hebrews scattered through all the countries around the Mediterranean. He looked in public markets, in homes, in prisons, in poor slums, and in wealthy sections. While he could never find the King, he did find many people who needed his help. Often he interrupted his search to stop and feed the hungry, clothe the naked, heal the sick, and comfort prisoners. Artaban found the years passing swiftly.

Then, thirty-three years were gone. Artaban’s hair was now white and his flashing eyes had dulled. So it was that, knowing his life was near its end, but still looking for the King, still carrying the great pearl, Artaban came for the last time to Jerusalem. He had often visited the Holy City before and had searched all its streets without finding a trace of the child that had been born in Bethlehem. Now he was making one last effort.

It was the season of the Passover. The city was thronged with strangers, Hebrews gathered from far lands to return to Jerusalem for the great holy days.

There was a strange excitement among the crowds. Artaban joined one group and asked a man where they were going. He answered, “We are going to the place called Golgotha where there is to be an execution. Two famous robbers are to be crucified and with them another, a man called Jesus of Nazareth. This Jesus has done many mighty works among the people. They love him greatly, but the authorities have said he must die, because he claims to be the Son of God. And Pilate has sent him to the cross because he said he was the ‘King of the Jews!”

“King of the Jews” – the familiar words fell strangely upon the tired heart of Artaban. They had led him to a lifetime over land and sea. Now they came to him mysteriously and unexpectedly.

Artaban’s heart beat with excitement. He said within himself, “The ways of God are strange beyond my understanding. It may be that I shall find the King, at last in the hands of his enemies. I shall offer my pearl for his ransom to save him from death.”

The old man followed the multitude. Suddenly a troop of Macedonian soldiers came down the street dragging a young girl with them. As Artaban paused to look at her with compassion, she broke away from the hands of her captors and threw herself at his feet.

“Have pity on me,” she cried. “Save me. My father is dead and I have seized for his debts to be sold as a slave. Save me from this horrible fate.”

Artaban trembled. It was the old conflict. Twice he had given one of his special gifts in the service of humanity. Only the pearl remained. He was sure of only one thing: that to rescue this helpless girl would be a true deed of love.

He took out the radiant pearl which he had carried so many years and put it in the hand of the girl: “Thos will be thy ransom, daughter! It is the last of my treasures which I kept for the King.” The soldiers grabbed the pearl and set the girl free.

Suddenly the sky became dark and the earth began to shake. The walls of the houses rocked to and fro and soldiers fled in terror.

Artaban and the girl he had ransomed crouched helplessly by the city wall. What had he to hope for now? He had given away the last of his gifts for the King. The quest was over and he had failed.

One last shudder of earthquake loosened a heavy stone from the wall and it fell and struck Artaban’s head. He lay breathless and pale with his gray head resting on the girl’s shoulder. As the girl bent over him, fearing he was dead, there came a quiet voice through the twilight, a small, still voice. The girl turned to see who had spoken but there was no one near.

Then the old man’s lips began to move as if in answer, and she heard him say, “Not so, my Lord! For when did I see thee hungry and feed thee, or thirsty and give thee drink? And when did I see thee a stranger and welcome thee, or naked and clothe thee? And when did I see thee sick or in prison and visit thee? Three and thirty years have I looked for thee, my King; but I have never even see thy face, never ministered to thee.”

Then the quiet voice spoke again: “Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these, you did it unto me.”

A calm radiance lighted the face of Artaban. His journey was ended. The Other Wise Man had found the King.