The Fourth Wise Man                                                         1/4/09

              This is the week of Epiphany where we traditionally celebrate the coming of the wise men to worship the Lord Jesus.  I have always loved their story, perhaps because I admire their faith --- a faith which would lead them to follow a star to a manger, a faith which led them to kneel before a helpless baby born of poor parents, when all reason would insist that this could be no Savior of the world, a faith which led them to worship an unlikely God.  

            We know their story very well, but this morning I want to tell you another story of the magi,  a story that is not as well known, but one which I think tells us an important lesson about the gifts we bring and how they are received by God.

            This is the legend of another wise man, and it is based on the story by Henry VanDyke.  You see - according to VanDyke --- there were four magi who had planned to make the journey to worship the new born king.  Each was to bring a special gift to lie before the babe.  Casper was to bear the gift of gold, Melchior the gifts of frankincense, Balthazar the gift of myrrh, and Artaban - the fourth magi - was to bring jewels: a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl.

            When the star appeared in the east, they had planned to meet together to form a caravan to journey to Jerusalem and gather more information about this king of the Jews and where He would be born.  Well, they all arrived as planned - or at least three of them did.  Artaban did not make it.

            When he was only a few miles from the place where they were to meet, he saw a man lying ill by the side of the road, and Artaban did not have the heart to leave him there, even though he knew that to take care of this stranger meant that he would probably miss his friends at their rendezvous. 

            But Artaban was a doctor, and so he stayed until the man was well, and, sure enough, he missed the other three.  But the man he had treated was a Jew himself, and so he told Artaban that the prophets had said the babe would be born in Bethlehem, not Jerusalem as the magi had supposed. 

            So Artaban decided to travel on to the little town of Bethlehem by himself, hoping to meet the others there.  But in order to do that he had to sell the sapphire in order to pay for the caravan that would take him there.

            He got to Bethlehem, but again he was too late.  When he got to the town, he found out that his friends had come and gone and that Mary, Joseph, and the baby had disappeared into the night - fleeing to Egypt.  In fact, most of the town was deserted.

            Artaban finally found a woman who would tell him what happened.  News had come that Herod was in a terrible rage.  He had heard that a new king had been born in Bethlehem and he was sending his soldiers to kill all the children.  Everyone who could, had fled their homes, and all that was left was those who could not leave.

            The woman was crying, for her son was too sick to move, and she was sure he would die in the slaughter of the Innocents.

            While they were still talking, the soldiers came, and while the woman hid inside with her son, Artaban told them there was no child in the house.  Finally, in a desperate attempt to save the mother and her son, he gave the soldiers the ruby intended for the baby Jesus.  So the soldiers passed the home by and a life was saved.

            But Artaban's journey was not ended.  He knew his life would be worthless somehow if he gave up in his quest to see the Christ.  So for thirty-three years he wandered from village to village, traveling from place to place, searching for those who might have news of a babe who had been born in Bethlehem, listening for news of a Savior amongst the people.

            As he journeyed, Artaban took care of the sick he found along the way.  He visited the prisons and lent his comfort to those who were in need.  He did not find the Christ, but he did find many who needed him, who needed his skill as a doctor, who needed to know someone who cared for them in all of their pain, who needed the faith of one who believed against all odds in a God who loved them.

            For thirty three years Artaban traveled and cared for others.  For the last three of those years he seemed to be always just one step behind this man named Jesus, who Artaban knew must be the Savior he was seeking.

            Finally, Artaban turned toward Jerusalem.  He came just after his King had entered the city to shouts of hosanna.  He came just as they were to take away this man Jesus and crucify Him.  Artaban thought that perhaps he could purchase the ransom of his King with his last gift, the gift of the pearl, a pearl of great price.  But just as he was nearing the place called Golgotha, there was another interruption.

            A young girl was about to be sold into slavery, and she cried out for mercy - for someone - any one - to save her from the men who wanted to buy her body and her soul.

            Artaban heard her cries, and he took out his last gift - the gift of the pearl - and he gave it to the men to buy the young girl's freedom.  While he did this, the sky grew dark and there was a great earthquake.  And Artaban knew that his King - the Savior he had been searching for - had died.

            He did not move.  He stood still while the earth trembled and the buildings fell in around him.

            There was nothing left.

            It was over.

            He wasn't afraid of dying in the earthquake, for his journey was ended and he thought he had failed.

            He had never met his King.

            And yet, somehow, he felt at peace. 

            It was not resignation.  It was not submission to fate.  It was something more profound. He knew all was well because he had done the best he could from day to day. 

            He had been true to the light that had been given to him.  He had looked for more.  And he knew, that even if he had been given the chance to do it all again, he would not have done anything differently.

            Artaban lay there, dying in the middle of the earthquake, with no one but the young girl he had saved from slavery to hear his dying words.  So she listened as he said softly, "But when did I see Thee hungry and feed Thee?  Or thirsty and gave Thee drink?  Or naked and clothed Thee?  When did I see Thee sick or in prison and came to Thee?  No, Lord, I never saw Thee, nor ministered to Thee, my King."

            Then the girl heard a voice, unlike any other, saying, "Verily I say unto thee, in as much as thou hast done it unto the least of these my brothers, thou hast done it unto Me." 

            It seemed as if upon hearing those words, a calm radiance and joy lit Artaban's face.  He took his last breath.  His journey was truly ended.  But his gifts had been accepted and he had found his King.

            Let it be so with us.  The gifts we bring our King are not the gifts of just one hour of worship each Sunday morning.  They are the gifts of our daily lives, the gifts of our talents and how we use them.  The gift we bring to the Christ child is the living of our faith as we seek Him out.  Our gift is doing the best we can with the light we have each been given. 

            May we know, at the end of our journey, that if we had been given another chance, we too, like Artaban, could say we would do nothing differently.