This moment of the Epiphany, the shining forth of Christ to the nations of the world, is such a vivid and enchanting moment.  These mysterious “Magi from the land of the sunrise” as St. Matthew identifies them, have been thought of in many terms: as kings, as sorcerers, as wise men, as astronomers, as philosophers.  But perhaps most importantly, they are religious figures.  They might have even been priests of the Persian religion, but one way or another, they were clearly searchers and experts in religious knowledge.  They and their journey to Christ represent this essential insight that all meaningful searching for truth eventually leads to Christ as the center of all things.  They represent what every one of us has done in our own lives, each in our own way, and what every thoughtful person does: following subtle and mysterious signs and quiet movements, and the occasional shining star, on a long journey to find the true meaning and center of our lives: and that true meaning is Jesus Christ himself.  And when the Magi arrive at the end of their journey, they worship.  They offer the child a tangible sacrifice consisting in meaningful gifts which demonstrate their insight and acknowledgment of who it is they are worshipping.  

When anyone worships, he expresses a very important thing: He says, there is a God, and I’m not him.  And that’s not a trivial thing to express, actually.  An awful lot of people go through life, practically at least, viewing themselves as God; in other words, viewing themselves as the most important thing in the world, the main character of their own story: I am my own central point of reference; I judge everything against me.  But when we worship, when we do what we do here at every single Mass, we say something profound and different.  We break that horrible circle of self-reference.  We say, there is actually a God, and I’m not him.  I am not my own central point of reference; I am not the main character of my own story.  Jesus Christ is.  Worship is about acknowledging fundamental realities, about myself, about God, about how the reality is organized.  And it defines how we understand our life.  I have something outside of myself to believe in and to live for; I have something greater than myself; something which is eternal and universal. 

So what the Magi do here is very significant.  They are religious philosophers from “out there” in the world, and when they arrive at the destination of this great journey, they worship.  And in the odd assortment of gifts they present, we see that they understand what it is that they are doing, and who it is that they are worshipping.  Despite his appearance as a weak and helpless baby, with unimpressive parentage, lying in a filthy cattle-trough, the truth is: this child is King (so they bring gold), he is God (so they bring incense), and he is the suffering servant who will lay down his life to fulfill his mission as savior of the entire world (so they bring myrrh, an oil which was used to prepare bodies for burial).  This is what they are worshipping; this is who we are worshipping.  We worship the God of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  He is King, he is God, and he is the eternal sacrifice.  This is what the Magi saw; this is what the Magi worshipped; and this was the destination of their journey, both their physical journey from their homeland and their spiritual journey to find the authentic destination of their philosophies and religious inquiries.  As we now begin to pivot our religious imagination from the events of Bethlehem to the events of Jerusalem, we ask God to give us Faith, Hope, and Charity to be our own gold, frankincense, and myrrh; which we offer to him in sacrifice and worship as our King, our God, and our Savior.