It’s difficult to believe that people described as Wise Men would follow a star to a remote hamlet, the Roman-occupied City of David.  What vested interest would they have in a Hebrew Messiah?  The Hebrew scriptures forbade the use of astrology.  Then in an interesting twist of plot, some of the first worshipers of the infant-deliverer discover this baby by chasing an unusual star.

We insert them into our manger scenes, usually three of them based on their offerings to the lad.  Three pagan mystics line up behind three shepherds who have abandoned their hillside post to worship a child, a hodge-podge of ignorable men, foreigners and local riff-raff, sold on heaven-sent ideals, communicated by a series of stars and singing angels.

The Magi quite literally follow their dreams, protecting the baby from Herod’s insecure clutches on his Rome-given throne.  The fate of a savior is placed in the hands of star-gazing dreamers.

There are no systems of theology, no fences designed to hedge the child.  Just dreams.  And stars.  And wily foreigners.  It is an ill-designed divine plan handed over to mystics.

Powerful modern gamblers convinced of this story, wager on town-sponsored manger scenes and upon forcible singing of Christmas carols to present this message.  They appeal to their version of Rome for assistance in worshiping the baby.  This is the reason God did not send a group of singing angels to their doorstep.  They cannot be trusted to believe without a crutch and a more powerful, credible hand to hold while worshiping.

But the mystic needs not lay odds.  Instead they lay hold of the dreams and the stars of the Christ child’s first worshipers.  They worship without regard for who might be worshiping the infant Messiah along side of them.  It takes an odd sort to believe that an infant’s reflexive grasp would signal a whole new beginning.

Also read: Advent for Cynics