Yesterday, Today, and Forever (5 page)

We understand better when we read together the following passages in the New Testament: “Then the devil took him to the holy city, and set him on the pinnacle of the temple” (Matt. 4:5). “Zechariah the son of Barachiah, whom you murdered between the sanctuary and the altar” (Matt. 23:35). “And throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple” (Matt. 27:5). “Two men went up into the temple to pray” (Luke 18:10). “Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching” (Mark 14:49). “And behold, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom” (Matt. 27:51). “The one who sat for alms at the Beautiful Gate of the temple” (Acts 3:10).

We can closely accompany the holy family when they pass through the royal gate entering the temple. First they walked through the royal cloisters, a hall bigger than any Christian basilica has ever been , a richly carved roof carried by 162 beautiful pillars a hundred feet high. There were benches for everyone who wanted to rest. This was the place for all the beggars and the blind and deaf and dumb and those afflicted with many sicknesses, all of them exhibiting their troubles to move the charity of the many passers-by. At the time there were no hospitals in Jerusalem, and no board of social welfare.

After they had passed the covered cloister, the holy family stepped out into the vast Court of the Gentiles. Here were the tables of the moneychangers and the temple markets. As pilgrims came to Jerusalem from every nation under heaven, they were forced to change their foreign currency into the temple coins. A long story could be told about the temple markets and all the crooked business going on there. That’s where Mary and Joseph bought the two turtledoves because they were so poor they could not afford to buy a lamb. Mary carried her child, and Joseph carried the turtledoves and the money. They went across the vast open court up to the barrier, a wall about four feet high bearing inscriptions in Greek telling the Gentiles to go no further under penalty of death. But Mary and Joseph were allowed by the guards to pass.

The real temple buildings were rising before them now. Up a flight of 15 steps they came to the gate called “Beautiful,” which was 80 feet high and 30 feet wide, made of heavy Corinthian bronze. The holy family approached the Court of the Women. There were many halls and latticed galleries. Crossing through, they came to another splendid gate called Nicanor. Outside this gate, which was made of silver and gold, they had to wait until they heard the silver trumpets blow. This was the sign of the closing of the morning sacrifice. Now the mothers to be purified lined up on the steps. And Mary, the mother of Jesus, was there, too. Through the golden bars she could see the huge altar from which clouds of incense rose, and behind it the tremendous façade of the house of God. If Mary looked, she could see through the open door the magnificent veil. Perhaps her own hands helped to weave it. The other women standing there with Mary on that morning must have gazed with awe at the veil behind which was the Holy of Holies. Nobody paid any special attention to the most beautiful of the mothers waiting there — not the other women, not the 50 priests around the altar, not the guards of the temple police. Nobody knew that the God of Israel had really come to His house this morning — in the arms of the beautiful maiden.

Now the deep tones of the great organ called the Magraphah were to be heard. The white-robed priests came to accept the doves for the sin offering. The birds were taken in, killed, some of the blood spilling on the altar, and their flesh had to be eaten by the priests on the grounds of the temple. Some of the birds were burned, and the ceremony of the purification was over. All the mothers had become liturgically clean again. After this came the ceremony of the presentation. Out of the group of women, only the mothers with first-born sons approached the priest, presenting the baby to him.

Two blessings were spoken: one in thanksgiving for the birth of a son, and the other had to do with the law of ransom. The five shekels were handed over to the priest, and the ceremony was finished. It was finished for all the mothers except one. When Mary went down the steps to meet Joseph and they both were just about to disappear humbly in the great stream of worshipers, they were stopped by a venerable old man. It was Simeon, of whom it is said that: “This man was righteous and devout, looking for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him” (Luke 2:25). By the inspiration of the Spirit he came into the temple. He had been waiting at the foot of the steps watching the women coming down, all young mothers proud and happy. When he saw the most beautiful, the most radiant of them all, the Holy Ghost revealed to him that the beautiful little child in her arms was the Son of God. This was the most sublime moment of his long life. He approached her and stretched his arms out. Looking into the old face, she handed the child to him. What emotions must have filled the heart of the old man when he pressed his infant Savior to his heart, breaking out into the canticle of joy, “
Nunc dimittis….
” “And his father and his mother marveled at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, ‘Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed’ ” (Luke 2:33–35). He handed back the child to His mother, who received Him in deep silence, pondering over this terrible prophecy.

Then before they could turn around to go home, there came an old lady, a widow of 84 years. She must have been in the temple during Mary’s time, because it says of her that she “did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day” (Luke 2:37). Old Anna had also been told the secret by the Holy Ghost. That’s why she came up that very hour and began to give praise to the Lord. Then she turned around and “spoke of him to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem” (Luke 2:38). One can’t help asking: “And who were those?” Obviously they were none of the great ones in the temple, the mighty and powerful ones, because nothing at all happened. The holy family quietly left the house of God.

What must have been going on in Mary’s heart? She knew that she was the mother of the Messiah. As a temple virgin she had learned all the messianic prophecies by heart, and from the Twenty-first Psalm she knew the horrible fate that awaited the One who would redeem His people. But maybe she hoped that the Heavenly Father might change His mind, as He had done with Nineveh when He had sent the prophet Jonas into the town with the strict message that Nineveh was to be destroyed. Then when He saw the repentance and good will of the people, He forgave and Nineveh was not destroyed. Well, if Mary had ever had such hopes for the future of her Son, Simeon had destroyed them. While they were walking back to their humble home in Bethlehem in deep silence meditating on what had happened, the sword of which he had spoken had already begun to pierce her soul.

“Mother, and what does that mean, ‘That, out of many hearts, thoughts may be revealed’?” asks one of the children. Yes — what does that mean?

Years have passed since that question was asked. At least once a year we meditate on this part of the Gospels, and we are still pondering this question in our hearts.

Chapter 8

Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar

It was a few years ago, and a wonderful winter day. I had been working with Hester, my secretary, in my little house, which is halfway up the hill behind the big house, and after a quick supper in the main house, had returned there to work. We had just admired one of our gorgeous mountain sunsets and were about to light the kerosene lamp when I saw something coming up the slope. It looked as if a big yellow star were climbing up the hill.

Hester and I went out onto the porch, and now we saw that we had visitors. In the deep snow, those colorful but quaintly dressed figures looked very much like foreigners. The first one was on horseback, and the star kept right above him, while the other two had a hard time wading through the knee-deep snow. One of them swung a censer, and the sweet fragrance of incense filled the crisp winter air. Finally they arrived, and lining up, enveloped in pungent clouds, they sang:

We three kings of Orient are,

Bearing gifts we traverse afar

Field and fountain, moor and mountain,

Following yonder star.

Oh-h, star of wonder, star of light….

At this moment Peanuts, the pony, had to sneeze. He wasn’t used to incense. While the holy kings were singing beautifully and clearly in three parts, I recognized my two best brocade aprons acting as Turkish trousers on the legs dangling from Peanuts. I had a pretty good suspicion that they belonged to little Johannes, but was not quite sure yet. His countenance was dark black, and so was the little fist holding the stick with the star, a masterpiece consisting of transparent paper, cardboard, a flashlight battery and bulb, and the longest broomstick in the house. The other two royalties were dressed in the best silk curtains from the living and dining rooms, and wore the most beautiful golden crowns on their heads. His black majesty was wearing a white turban under his crown, a very becoming contrast to his complexion.

I know now without looking at the calendar that it must be January 5. These were the “Star Singers” (
Sternsaenger
), an old Austrian custom going back through the centuries. On the evening of the Epiphany the children dress up as the three holy kings and go from house to house singing. There is only one great difference between the original holy kings and their little imitators: The first ones brought gifts, the others expect them. They get apples and oranges, dried figs and prunes, cookies and candies, and sometimes also a little money. I felt very much embarrassed at being caught unawares and asked Hester in a whisper whether we had anything in that line in our little study. We didn’t, so I quickly invented paper money of my own, worth fifty cents each, which could be cashed in Father Wasner’s room. The grateful little kings — Ili, Lorli, and Johannes, our three youngest ones — sang a thank-you song, through which Peanuts impatiently and understandably pawed the ground. According to the color of his king, he must have come from Africa and was not accustomed to our Vermont winters. Then in majesty and dignity they descended the hill “following yonder star.”

Meanwhile, the real stars had come out, and the thin sickle of the new moon was hanging in the ink-blue sky over Stowe Hollow. Traces of incense were still around us, and it had all been so poetic and a little unreal that Hester and I stood and watched until the big yellow star had disappeared among the old apple trees and the young voices were trailing off. Only now did we notice how cold it was, and went back in to our little wood stove. The kerosene lamp, however, was not lit that whole evening.

Hester, who had not known this folk custom, found it very lovely and said musingly, “How much does one really know about the story of the three holy kings?”

Well, this has been foremost among our research projects for many a Christmas, so I told her what we had discovered. “Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, saying, ‘Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the East, and have come to worship him’ ” (Matt. 2:1–2).

Who were those wise men from the East? Since the third century, going back to Tertullian, there is a tradition which calls them “Magi” and “kings.” This fits perfectly with the psalm which says, “May the kings of Tarshish and of the isles render him tribute, may the kings of Sheba and Seba bring gifts!” (Ps. 72:10). Among the old Medes and Persians such Magi were known, a very exclusive caste who led strict lives and kept the fire going at their places of worship in the mountains and studied the stars of heaven and the dreams of men. These men must have heard of the prophecy, “A star shall come forth out of Jacob and a sceptre shall rise out of Israel” (Num. 24:17).

The Jews, who had been led into captivity several times, had spread the knowledge of a coming Messiah all over the Orient and deep into Persia, where the adventure of Tobias and Esther had taken place. The only thing the Gospel of Matthew tells us about the three high personages is that they were wise men and came from the Orient. Now also from the Orient come many legends and stories. One such story says that the Magi were descendants of the great Balaam. The golden coins they brought to little Jesus had been coined by Terah, the father of Abraham, and Joseph, the son of Jacob. It is interesting that the Gospel doesn’t talk about the number, how many there were, but in all pictures and pieces of sculpture there are always three. Some people say they represent the three ages of men: youth, maturity, and old age. Others say they are the representatives of different races: the Semitic, the Caucasian, and the Negro. People gave them the names of Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar. An old Christian tradition says that Thomas baptized them on his way to India, and now their relics are venerated in the Cathedral of Cologne.

How much can one find out about the star? There are many hypotheses. One says it must have been a comet, another says it was a newly appearing star, again another one thinks it was not a star at all, but a strong light like the lights of the Zodiac, which are frequently visible in the Orient. These and many other theories of a more learned nature have been used to explain the words, “We have seen his star in the east.”

The church has not decided on any one of these details, so we in our family have settled on this story. We are all descended from Noah and his family: “The sons of Noah who went forth from the ark were Shem, Ham, and Japheth…. and from these the whole earth was peopled” (Gen. 9:18–19). Caucasians descended from Japheth; the people of the Middle East and Asia descended from Shem; and the Africans from Ham. The story that we like best is this: In Ethiopia, in Persia, and far away in the Caucasus, wise men were watching the sky for a special star which was promised to mankind. On one and the same day they all saw it appear and decided independently of each other, not even knowing of each other, to go and adore the newborn King whose sign the star had been. It took them many months to prepare a caravan worthy of royalty. When their plan became known, they were warned against their undertaking and finally ridiculed.

After starting on their way, it took them many more months, and finally one blessed day they were brought
together
by the star in the desert. Now they traveled the last stretch of their journey
together
until at last they saw the high mountains of Moab appearing on the horizon. These were the mountains which Balaam, the great ancestor of all Magi, climbed up with the intention of cursing the people of Israel, and instead he blessed them. These are the mountains on whose peak Moses had stood in silence gazing into the Promised Land which he was not allowed to enter. From these mountains of Moab, the Magi looked down into this canyon which is the Jordan Valley.

Now they knew they were near the end of their journey. How much time had they spent on the road? We don’t know, but each one had come a tremendous distance, and the caravans of old made about 10 or 12 miles a day. When they approached the Jordan, their animals must have drunk greedily after having crossed the desert. They came into Jericho, which had been just newly rebuilt by King Herod. The boundaries of the Roman Empire were there, and customs officers must have searched their rich caravans. Now they were really on the way to Jerusalem. It was that feared stretch of wild countryside infested with robbers, but a strong party such as theirs did not have to worry. Soon they were in the hills of Judea, and finally they saw the walls of the Holy City and the temple of stone and gold rising above it.

They entered through the city gate and asked the first person they met, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the East, and have come to worship him” (Matt. 2:2). This question was overheard by the Gestapo.

“By whom?” asked Hester, who had been listening in rapt attention, but who couldn’t fit this modern word into our ancient oriental story. The spell was broken, and now we could just as well feed our little stove before it grew cold.

“Matthew continues,” I said to Hester, “ ‘When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him’ ” (Matt. 2:3)

From all I have read and learned about King Herod, he reminds me very much of Hitler and, coming from an invaded country where one had to beware of the Gestapo who, as the saying went, “heard the grass grow,” I understand how all Jerusalem was troubled. This Herod had not a drop of Jewish blood in his veins. His father was a Bedouin from Idumea, and his mother an Arabian princess. Of course, he was no descendant of David. He had gotten to the throne by kowtowing to the Romans. When they finally made him king of the Jews, they little knew that they were fulfilling the prophecy: “The scepter shall not depart from Judah …until he comes to whom it belongs; and to him shall be the obedience of the peoples” (Gen. 49:10).

In order to make it look a little better, Herod married Mariamne, the granddaughter of the last real priest, King Hyrcanus. Her family was very little pleased about this, and so he simply began to liquidate them. He killed old Hyrcanus and Alexandra his daughter, Mariamne’s mother. Mariamne herself was the only being he ever really loved in his life, but one day in a fit of jealousy, he killed her with his own hands. Then he drowned his brother-in-law, the young high priest Aristobulos, because he got too popular for Herod’s taste. Soon afterward, his own two sons were strangled in the bath. When Herod was already very sick, he had his third son beheaded.

No wonder his subjects hated him! By and by, he had built up such an efficient system of secret police that whatever happened in Jerusalem he knew of within five minutes. Exactly like the Gestapo. Therefore, when those harmless strangers asked for the newborn King, we can understand how all of Jerusalem was troubled because this was the feared word Herod could not stand. During the time of his reign there had been much bloodshed — mass massacre as well as single murders. A rumor had swept throughout the city that Herod, who was by now dying, had arranged in his last will that immediately upon his death a mass murder was to take place. All the leading men in the nation were to be killed, in order that there might be tears shed in the Jewish nation on the day of his death.

“You see, Hester,” I said, “it must have been pretty similar in the little country of the Jews to our own small Austria. Both had been invaded, and were ruled by Quislings, and both had a Gestapo — the fear of which takes a long, long time to get out of your bones. Therefore, I can so very well understand what the evangelist meant when he said, ‘When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him’ (Matt. 2:3).”

Who is going to be killed next?
was the question everyone turned over in his mind. Then the Gospel continues: “And assembling all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born” (Matt. 2:4).

The news must have reached Herod in an incredibly short time that this big, rich caravan with very strange-looking foreigners had entered Jerusalem. Immediately he summoned the Sanhedrin, and the 72 members would have obeyed the royal call immediately because it is not safe to delay when a Hitler calls. Everyone in the city must have held his breath, and the 72 dignified elders must have wondered if they were going to leave the palace alive.

When they were admitted into the presence of the king, they salaamed until their beards touched the ground. When they were finished with the ceremonial bows and glanced at the face of their king, the Jews could read there that Herod was troubled. When he glared at them in contempt — that is all he ever had for his Jewish subjects, he the great admirer of the Greeks — there must have been an almost unbearable tension in the room:
What does he want of us? What is he going to do now?

When he finally snapped the question, “Where is the Christ born?” with an almost unbelieving sigh of relief they broke out with the answer — not only a spokesman, but “they” said to him, says the Gospel, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it is written by the prophet” (Matt. 2:5). And then they quoted the age-old prophecy of Micah as of one voice: “O Bethlehem Ephrathah …from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel” (Mic. 5:2).

That was all. He didn’t want to hear any more. They were dismissed. It must have been almost too good to be true for them. And now the dying tyrant was thinking fast. Other messengers went out to summon the illustrious strangers. The Gospel goes on “Then Herod summoned the wise men secretly and ascertained from them what time the star appeared” (Matt. 2:7).

What a different company now appeared before King Herod! Not the submissive subjects of a dictator, always trembling in their boots, but free men, kings greeting a king. There was salaaming again, but this time it was on both sides, and the sick man on his golden couch tried very, very hard to be at his best. His shrewd, wicked mind was all made up. At his earliest opportunity he had to do away with that “King of the Jews” whom these magnificent-looking foreigners had come to adore, but first he must find out something about Him. They had said they had seen His star. Very much depended now on the time. Herod feared that the star might have appeared to them many years ago, and this King of the Jews, the Messiah, might be a warrior now, ready to strike. That is why Herod “ascertained from them what time the star appeared.” What a sigh of relief when he learned the time! An ugly smile played around his cruel lips when he thought that his opponent was a mere baby in His mother’s arms. But he had to finish his act, and he played it well. “And he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him bring me word, that I too may come and worship him’ ” (Matt. 2:8).