The Adoration of the Kings

By Fr. Conor Donnelly

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In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

“And all at once the star which they had seen in the East was there going before them, till at last it stood still over the place where the Child was” (Matt. 2:10).

Jesus was born at Bethlehem in Judea, in the days of King Herod. We’re told in St. Matthew that certain “wise men came out of the East to Jerusalem” (Matt. 2:1). They had seen a star, and by a certain grace from God, they knew that it heralded the birth of the Messiah whom the people of Israel were expecting.

The occupation of these wise men—that of studying the stars—was the circumstance used by God to make them see His will. St. John Chrysostom says, “God called them by what was most familiar to them and showed them a great, marvelous star, so that it would attract their attention by its very greatness and beauty” (John Chrysostom, Homilies on St. Matthew).

How did they come to know exactly what it meant? Well, we don’t know, but they knew and they set off.

Undoubtedly they received a very extraordinary inspiration from God, who wanted them to be present in Bethlehem, as Isaiah had announced. In Isaiah we’re told, “Lift up your eyes and look about you—sons of thine, daughters of thine, come from far away” (Isa. 60:4).

They would be the first of those who would come later, throughout all times, from all parts. And they were faithful to this grace.

They left behind their families, their comfort, their goods. It can’t have been easy for them to explain the reason for their journey. Probably without talking about it too much, they took the best that they had, to carry with them as an offering, and set off on their way to adore God.

The journey must have been very long and difficult, but they persevered on their way. These men, determined and with none of what we might call worldly respect, teach us what we have to do to reach Jesus: to leave aside everything that can lure us from the way or hold us up on our journey.

One writer says, “Sometimes we can be held up—in what refers to following Jesus closely, lovingly—by the fear of what people will say, the fear that our way of acting may be considered extreme in some way or another.

“These men, who fill our…feast with joy, give us a lesson in bravery. It is a lesson not to pay attention to human respect, which paralyzes many who could already be close to Christ, living with him” (Angel María Dorronsoro, Tiempo para creer).

We too have seen the star in the depth of our heart, inviting us to be detached from the things that tie us down, and to overcome any human respect which prevents us from reaching Jesus.

St. Josemaría says, “[Look] how gently Our Lord invites us. His words have human warmth; they are the words of a person in love. We’re told in the prophet Isaiah, ‘I have called you by your name. You are mine’ (Isa. 43:1). God, who is greatness and beauty and wisdom, declares that we are his, that we have been chosen as the object of his infinite love.

“We need a strong life of faith to appreciate the wonder his providence has entrusted to us. It will be a faith like that of the Magi, a conviction that neither the desert, nor the storms, nor the quiet of the oasis will keep us from reaching our destination in the eternal Bethlehem: our definitive life with God” (Josemaría Escrivá, Christ Is Passing By, Point 32).

Of all those who contemplated the star, only the Wise Men of the East discovered its deep meaning. Only they understood what for others was only an unusual spectacle in the sky. It’s possible that others too received the same special grace from God but did not correspond to it. A great tragedy for them!

With the liturgy, we could ask, “O God, who enlightened the Wise Men from the East and set them on the way to adore your Son, enlighten our faith and accept the offering of our prayers” (Divine Office, Vespers of the Epiphany).

“A life of faith is a life of sacrifice. Our Christian vocation does not take us away from our place in the world, but it requires us to cast aside anything that would get in the way of God’s will. The light that has just begun to shine,” says St. Josemaría, “is only a beginning. We have to follow it if we want it to shine as a star, and then like the sun” (J. Escrivá, op. cit., Point 33).

The Wise Men must have traveled along bad roads, slept in uncomfortable places. But the star was showing them the way and taught them the meaning of their lives. The star made their journey joyful and reminded them all the time that it was worth undergoing any discomfort or danger as long as they came to see Jesus.

That is what matters. Sacrifices are borne with elegance and happiness if the goal is worthwhile.

But when they reach Jerusalem they are left without the light which had been guiding them. The star disappears and they are lost. What did they do then?

They used their common sense. They asked those who should know. “Where is he that has been born, the King of the Jews? We have seen his star in the East and have come to worship him” (Matt. 2:2).

We need to learn from these wise and holy men. Sometimes we too can be lost in the dark because we try to have our lives illumined according to our own whims, which may lead us along easier paths, instead of seeking the light of God’s will.

One writer says, “In our lives, very often, we make choices not according to God’s will but according to our own likes and dislikes, our comfort, and our cowardice. We are not used to looking up towards the star, but rather to lighting our way with our own candle, which is a little light, a feeble light, a light which reduces our field of vision to the limits of our own selfishness” (Angel María Dorronsoro, op. cit.).

The Wise Men ask because they want to follow the light which God gives them, even though He shows them rough and difficult roads. They don’t want to follow their own light, which will always lead them along apparently easier and more peaceful paths, but along which they will not find Jesus.

Now that they no longer have the star, they make use of all the means at hand to reach the stable at Bethlehem. The truly important thing is to reach Jesus.

The whole of our life is a road towards Jesus. It’s a road we have to travel by the light of faith. Faith will lead us, whenever necessary, to ask and to let ourselves be guided, to be docile.

St. Josemaría says, “But we Christians have no need to go to Herod or to the wise men of this world. Christ has given his Church sureness in doctrine and a flow of grace in the sacraments. He has arranged things so that there will always be people to guide and lead us, to remind us constantly of our way. …

“Allow me to give you a piece of advice. If ever you lose the way, always turn to the good shepherd. … Go to the priest who looks after you, who knows how to demand of you a strong faith, refinement of soul, and true Christian fortitude.

“The Church allows us the freedom to confess to any priest provided he has the proper faculties; but a conscientious Christian will go—with complete freedom—to the priest he knows to be a good shepherd, who can help him to look up again and see once more, on high, the Lord’s star” (J. Escrivá, op. cit., Point 34).

The Wise Men found the star again. It showed them where Our Lord was, because they followed the advice and indications of those who, at that time, had been placed by God’s providence to show them the way.

Very often our faith is [made specific] in docility, in this sign of humility, which is letting oneself be helped in spiritual guidance by the person whom we know is the good shepherd for us here and now.

The only important thing in our life is to reach Our Lord. The news the wise men brought spread throughout Jerusalem from door to door, from house to house. The hope of the Messiah would be rekindled in many good Israelites and they would wonder whether perhaps He had come already.

Others, like Herod, in spite of being more educated and having more information, received the news very differently, because their souls were not prepared to receive the newborn King of the Jews.

Jesus, the same Child who was born in Bethlehem of Judea, is continually passing close to us. He passes by as He once passed by the Wise Men or as He passed through the life of Herod.

There are two positions regarding Our Lord: that of accepting Him—then everything of ours is His—or that of denying Him by managing our own affairs without Him, by building our own life as if He did not exist or by fighting against Him, as Herod did.

Like the Wise Men we want to reach Jesus even though we have to leave behind the things that others value so highly. We may even have to suffer some setbacks in order to follow the road that leads to Bethlehem.

Every resolution we make to follow Christ is like kindling a little light. What begins as something small and faltering is transformed by time, by constancy in spite of difficulties, beginning over and over again, into a great light—charity towards others who are also seeking Christ.

St. John Chrysostom says, “Whilst the Wise Men were in Persia, they saw only the star, but when they left their homeland, they saw the Sun of Justice himself” (John Chrysostom, op. cit.).

On this great Feast of the Epiphany, we can ask ourselves in the depths of our hearts: Why, at times, do I let my life follow the dim light of my whims, my fears, my comforts? Why don’t I always go to the light of the Gospel wherein lies my star and my future filled with happiness? Why don’t I take a step forward, and abandon what could be a situation of spiritual mediocrity?

Isaiah tells us that all men are called to come from afar to meet the Savior (Isa. 60:4). Our Lord also tells us—especially those of us who perhaps don’t feel as spiritually close to Jesus as we should—that we are invited especially on this day.

Let us ask Our Lord to give us such a firm and solid faith on our journey that we may obtain the gifts which He has promised.

The Entrance Antiphon for today’s Mass says, “See, he comes, Our Lord and Ruler, armed with royal power and dominion.”

Today the Church celebrates Jesus being made known to the whole world. Epiphany means “manifestation,” and in the Kings are represented all peoples of every language and nation who set out, called by God, to adore Jesus. The Psalms say, “Gifts shall flow in from the lands of Tharsis and the islanders, tribute from the kings of Arabia and of Saba; all kings must needs bring their homage, all nations serve him” (Responsorial Psalm; Ps. 72:10-11).

In St. Matthew we’re told, “They obeyed the king and went on their journey; and all at once the star which they had seen in the East was there going before them, till at last it stood still over the place where the Child was. They, when they saw the star, were glad beyond measure” (Matt. 2:9-10).

They weren’t surprised because they were led to a village, nor because the star stopped over a simple little house. They rejoiced. They rejoiced with an uncontainable joy.

How great is the joy of these wise men who have come from so far away to see a King and are led to a little house in a village!

There is much for us to learn here! In the first place, we learn that every rediscovery of the way that leads to Jesus is filled with joy.

We are perhaps in danger of not realizing fully how close Our Lord is to our lives “because,” one writer says, “God presents himself to us under the insignificant appearance of a piece of bread, because he does not reveal himself in his glory, because he does not impose himself irresistibly, because he slips into our life like a shadow, instead of making his power resound at the summit of all things. … Many souls are troubled by doubt because God does not show himself in the way that they expected” (Jacques Leclercq, A Year with the Liturgy).

Many of the people in Bethlehem saw in Jesus a child like any other. The Kings knew how to see Him as the Child, who, from then on, would be adored forever. Their faith gave them a unique privilege: to be the first among the Gentiles to adore Him when the world did not know Him.

These men must have been immensely happy, having come from so far, when they were able to contemplate the Messiah soon after He came into the world.

We need to be attentive, because Our Lord also shows Himself in the normal events of every day. May we know how to recover this interior light, which for us breaks through the monotony of days which are all the same. May we find Jesus in our ordinary life.

We’re told in St. Matthew, “And going into the dwelling, they found the Child there with his mother Mary, and falling down they worshipped him” (Matt. 2:11).

“We also kneel down before Jesus, God hidden in humanity. We tell him once more,” says St. Josemaría, “that we do not want to turn our backs on his divine call, that we shall never separate ourselves from him, that we shall remove from our path all that may be an obstacle to our fidelity, and that we sincerely wish to be docile to his inspirations” (J. Escrivá, Christ Is Passing By, Point 35).

They adored Him. They knew that He was the Messiah, God made Man. The Council of Trent expressly quotes the passage of the adoration of the Kings to teach us the worship which is due to Christ in the Blessed Sacrament.

Jesus present in the tabernacle is the same Jesus the wise men found in Mary’s arms. We could examine ourselves to see how we adore Him when He is exposed in the monstrance or hidden in the tabernacle.

There was a Japanese tourist who had no religion who was visiting Rome. When he visited some famous basilica, he saw a Mass server there who was going over and back across the sanctuary area. And he noticed that in one particular place, as he crossed in front of the altar, he genuflected. He did this a few times.

The Japanese tourist was a bit curious. He went to the Mass server and said, “I noticed that you go down on one knee when you’re passing here for some reason. Why do you do that?”

The server explained, “You see, we believe that Our God is there in that little box that we call the tabernacle.”

The Japanese tourist said, “Oh, where I come from, if we believed our God is there in that box, we’d be on our knees from the door!”

Food for thought. You could think about the moments in the Holy Mass when we’re called to kneel—do we do so with devotion and reverence?—and each time that we pass by those places where the Blessed Sacrament is reserved.

For the Kings, “Then opening their store of treasures, they offered him gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh” (Matt. 2:11). The most precious gifts of the East they offer; only the best for God.

They offer Him gold, a symbol of royalty. We Christians also want to have Jesus in all human activities, to have Him exercise His reign of justice, holiness, and peace over all souls.

St. Josemaría says, “We also offer him the precious gold we receive when in spirit we are detached from money and material goods. Let us not forget that these things are good, because they come from God. But the Lord has laid down that we should use them without allowing our hearts to become attached to them, by putting them to good use for the benefit of mankind” (J. Escrivá, ibid.).

We offer Him incense, the perfume which was burned each evening on the altar as a symbol of the hope placed in the Messiah.

St. Josemaría says incense is “our desire to live a noble life which gives off the ‘aroma of Christ’ (2 Cor. 2:15). To impregnate our words and actions with his aroma is to sow understanding and friendship. We should accompany others so that no one is left, or can feel, abandoned. …

“The pleasant smell of incense comes from some small, hidden grains of aromatic material placed upon the burning charcoal. Likewise is the sweet fragrance of Christ, noticed by men—not in a sudden burst of flame, but in the constant red-hot embers of virtues such as justice, loyalty, faithfulness, understanding, and cheerfulness” (J. Escrivá, ibid., Point 36).

With the Kings we also offer myrrh, because God Incarnate will take upon Himself our weaknesses and be burdened with our sorrows.

Myrrh is “the spirit of sacrifice that can never be lacking in Christian life. Myrrh reminds us of the Passion of Our Lord. On the Cross he is offered wine mingled with myrrh (cf. Mark 15:23). It was with myrrh that his body was anointed for burial (cf. John 19:39).

“But we shouldn’t think that to meditate on the need for sacrifice and mortification means to add a note of sadness to this joyful feast. Mortification is not pessimism or bitterness” (J. Escrivá, ibid., Point 37).

On the contrary, it’s very closely related to joy, to charity, to making life pleasant for others. We find that mortification “in the apparently trifling problems, difficulties, and worries which arise without our looking for them in the course of [each] day” (J. Escrivá, ibid.).

The Epiphany reminds us that we should use every available means to bring our relatives, friends, and colleagues close to Jesus. That might begin by lending someone a book of sound doctrine, by giving some encouraging words to others which help them to start on their way, by speaking to an acquaintance of the need for spiritual formation and direction.

As we finish our prayer, we don’t ask the holy Kings to give us gold, frankincense, and myrrh. It might seem more natural to ask them to teach us the way which leads to Christ, so that every day we can take Him our gold and our incense and our myrrh.

We can “ask the Mother of God, who is Our Mother, to prepare for us the way that leads to the fullness of love. Cor Mariae dulcissimum, iter para tutum! Most sweet heart of Mary, prepare a safe way! …

“Her sweet heart,” says St. Josemaría, “knows the surest path on which to find Christ. The three Kings had their star. We have Mary.” Stella Maris, Stella Orientis. “Star of the Sea, Star of the East” (ibid., Point 38).

I thank you, my God, for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this meditation. I ask your help to put them into practice. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

UI