The Three Gifts and the Wisdom of the Magi

The Three Gifts and the Wisdom of the Magi

Ah, my friends, sure it’s no accident at all that the Christ Child was greeted with three gifts at the manger. Not two, not four, but three—a tidy number, isn’t it? Now, could it be a nod to the Holy Trinity itself? Or maybe it’s a sign of Christ’s own mission: prophet, priest, and king? Sure, perhaps it even speaks to ourselves—spirit, soul, and body, the very essence of being human. I’ll leave the unravelling of that grand mystery to your own musings over a strong cup of tea.

But for now, let’s cast our eyes eastward to those Magi, those clever lads who set out under a star to bring their treasures. These fellas, well, they didn’t just represent themselves; no, they stood in for all of us. And the gifts they brought—gold, frankincense, and myrrh—well, those gifts aren’t just shiny trinkets for the mantelpiece. They’ve meaning, they do!

Gold, you see, is for the material—what we earn with the sweat of our brows and the calluses on our hands. Frankincense? That’s for the spiritual gifts, the ones you can’t buy or sell, no matter how deep your pockets are. And myrrh, the last and bitterest of the lot? That’s for life’s sorrows, the pains that carve deep but purify the soul.

Who among us brings gold to the Lord, then? It’s the ones who dig deep into their purses for the good of others. Maybe you’ve restored a crumbling old church or helped a neighbour in need. That’s your gold, plain and simple. And don’t you know, every coin given to the needy or the holy is like a whisper to heaven itself? But sure, if we’re honest, how often do we hoard more than we share? A poor man shivers outside, and we toss him a scrap while spending a fortune on fripperies and fancies. Isn’t that the way of it too often?

And what about frankincense? That’s the work of the mind and the heart, the talents God gave us to use for good. The ruler who governs with justice and kindness offers frankincense. The teacher, the healer, the artist—all of them can bring their gifts to God by uplifting others. And mothers, don’t think I’ve forgotten you! Every bedtime prayer and every word of wisdom you pass to your children is a waft of that sweet-smelling frankincense rising to heaven.

Ah, but the myrrh—here’s the hard one. It’s the gift of those who carry life’s burdens with grace and faith. The ones who don’t curse the storm but trust that it’s watering the ground for something better to grow. Sure, it’s not an easy thing, myrrh. It’s bitter and heavy, like the weight of the world on your shoulders. But those who bear it? They’re closer to Christ than they know, for He bore His Cross with the same quiet strength.

To you who suffer, who feel life’s cold winds biting, take heart. Your tears aren’t wasted; your sighs don’t go unheard. You hold the precious myrrh, and it’s a gift more valuable than gold or frankincense. So don’t trade it for fleeting comforts or dull it with complaints. Keep it pure, for the Lord sees, and in His own time, He’ll turn that myrrh into a crown of joy.

And there you have it, my friends. Each of us has something to bring to the manger—be it gold, frankincense, or myrrh. The Magi showed us the way; now it’s up to us to follow. So go on, bring your best to the Lord. After all, it’s not every day you get to give a gift to a King!