For the Woo-Woo Mystics (on Epiphany)
Night Watch Advent series - day 10
Day 10 - For the Woo-Woo Mystics
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“When it was time to leave, they returned to their own country by another route, for God had warned them in a dream not to return to Herod.” Matthew 2:12
I recently unearthed a six-year-old video from one of our iconic Monday night Bible studies. I’m not sure what we were celebrating in March, but there was an accordion involved, and as I panned the camera to capture every beloved face, there sat Molly with her technicolor braids, flashing an Ozzy Osbourne hand sign with her tongue sticking out.
Molly was forever veering out and back into my line of vision, disappearing without warning then returning like July in the middle of winter. She always found her way back to our door when it mattered. She brought her girlfriend over for snacks and board games. She popped into The Window for lunch and a hug. After a lifetime of clutching at the air for protection and peace, she was adept at entering unfamiliar worlds and hellbent on making them safer for everyone. She sealed her friendships with inside jokes and horoscopes.
Tucked into the corner of her tiny living room was a card table shrine decked out with a strand of twinkle lights reflecting off a blue tinsel background. “It’s blue, because I love the police,” she said, nonchalantly. “They have always made me feel safe.” There was a cluster of candles, a small stack of books, who knows what else.
I could never escape the feeling that our friendship made little sense, on paper. If you tried to force us onto a Venn diagram, we might only overlap on “chicken wings” and “Jesus,” though her religious expression mashed New Age beliefs, Buddhism, and maybe even some witchy things into the mix. What connected us was somehow more concrete and more ephemeral than all of that. We were troublemakers of the (mostly) “good” variety, drawn toward the coded mysteries of God and dazzled by the world.
It was more than enough. Borderline opulent.
Our friendship was a feast.
Our practical, first-world sensibilities lend themselves to collapsing complexity into more easily digestible bites. At Christmastime, this means cramming the Wise Men into the manger scene then boxing the whole thing up by January first. The reality, murky though it may be, is more complicated. And complexity is always less efficient.
Time passed between Jesus’ birth and the visit from the magi. Some scholars say it was roughly one month. Others believe it was closer to two years. Either option inserts space into the narrative, stretching our pop-culture ideal into something more closely resembling regular life, strung with boring days and confusing losses.
According to the Western liturgical calendar, the twelve days following Christmas culminate in Epiphany, which is symbolized by the magi’s visit. But, who exactly were the magi?
Our institutionalized retelling distills their collective identity down to a few key points: the magi were three men bearing luxury gifts of symbolic significance. We deem them “foreigners” with darker skin tones then huddle them around a towheaded Jesus. And though “magi” indisputably means “astrologer,” we place crowns on their heads. (The church is far more comfortable with royalty than mystics.)
The reality is infinitely wilder and practically begs for speculation. The magi were wise and wealthy foreigners with their heads in the stars. They were Gentiles from a priestly Persian caste, culturally bound to Zoroastrianism, the religion of their homeland, and it is vital to note that their place in this sacred story is not dependent upon them abandoning their cultural beliefs. We simply do not have those answers. My favorite fact? Though the exact number of magi who visited Jesus is unknown, some historians suggest women may have been among them.1
Spanning distance, religion, culture, economics, politics, and power, the Spirit of God spoke, and the magi responded, even to the point of civil disobedience. Here, in a story that pits Empire against the oppressed, where families shelter together against the violence of regime, where the lowly and least powerful play prominent roles in resetting the world forever, we watch, drop-jawed, as elite pagans with the gift of flawless shadiness recognize a Savior when they see one, and risk their lives for his protection.2
The magi remind us that in Christ there is no such thing as “outsider.” And, perhaps more importantly, they remind us we are not the fixed reference points in the stories of our faith.
The last time I saw Molly, she was walking across town like a queen in cat-ear headphones. Her music is always loud enough to drown out the haters disguised as lovers, so I laid on the horn.
Right there on Main Street, our wordless smiles added to the anthology of our mutual affection.
Molly has floated away for a while, but she will remain plotted on the constellation of my heart. She’ll take her route and I’ll take mine. Time will pass. But it won’t be long before her light shines, once again, on the infinite goodness of God, right here in the land of the living.
Thank you for being with me all through the long night of this Advent. In a season of personal darkness, I wrote this series because I so desperately needed it. Nevertheless, it is always better to travel together, and I would road-trip with you any day.
The Light of perfect Love has come. The Light endures. We’ve been around long enough to know this arrival does not erase life’s harsh realities, but we can be sure we won’t struggle alone.
The Prince of Peace reigns.
Emmanuel stays.
Thanks be to God.
Happy Epiphany, pals!
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Finally, I took maybe ten photos of this year’s weird-but-cozy Christmas. It was that kind of holiday. (happy sigh!)
Here are a few.
Click the link! The artwork is sure to inspire emotion.
Given this culturally “outside” perspective, it’s fascinating to consider why Matthew alone might have chosen to include the story of the Magi.
Love traveling with you, Shannan. Thank you for sharing Molly with us. The stars are out there! May the skies ever orient us with frames. 💛✨💛✨
The moments of beauty/insight/perspective from friendships that don't make sense on paper are legion! I, along with you and countless others, experienced my family's first unchurched Christmas this year. It was a relief in many ways. Yet it was filled with lament and a longing for a community of faith that upends power structures and welcomes without forcing assimilation. Pointing out Matthew's empathy for unexpected people to show up and adore Jesus is a spot on reminder for me to go and do likewise.