Did the magi really exist? Investigating the story behind the Christmas carol
Sculptures of the three wise men in Angra dos Reis, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil (iStock/ampueroleonardo).
When I was young, each year at Christmas my mom placed a light-up Nativity scene on our front lawn. Surrounding Mary and Joseph and Jesus’ creche (left vacant until Christmas) were three large, glowing figures: the Magi. I loved dashing in and out of the scene, picking up and rearranging these plastic kings in new ways around the manger. It was a life-size dollhouse that made me feel included in the great pageant of Jesus’ birth.
I would wager that the “three kings” have been familiar characters in your core Christmas memories as well. Perhaps you were cast to play the part of Caspar, Melchior or Balthazar in your church or school’s Nativity pageant. And unlike Rudolph or the apocryphal little drummer boy, the Magi can actually be found in the Scriptures. We learn of their journey in the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 2:
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, magi from the east came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star in the east and have come to pay him homage.”
So when we began to plot out this season of America’s podcast “Hark!: The Stories Behind Our Favorite Christmas Carols,” I was very excited to feature the caroling classic “We Three Kings.” Besides its musical beauty and thrilling sense of wonder, the song offers a treasure trove of stories to unwrap. For instance, what can historians tell us about who these travelers from the East were? And what qualified them as wise men? As for the “star of wonder” they pursued—was it an astronomical phenomenon that scientists can trace today or was it a Christmas miracle? Finally, we could address the butt of so many jokes and figure out why showering an infant with gold, frankincense and myrrh made more sense than diapers and a Pack ’n Play.
Our deep dive into this carol and its main subjects did yield many answers, which you can hear on our first episode of “Hark!” on Nov. 29, at the America Media website or wherever you listen to podcasts. But after months of research and in-depth guest interviews, I was left with an even larger question: Did the three wise men actually exist?
I realize that, if you’re anything like me, raising this question may feel blasphemous. So let me explain how I got here. The first assumption many of us make is that the Magi were kings and that there were three of them. This is, of course, a fair assumption given the popularity of our Christmas carol “We Three Kings” and the ubiquity of the image across Christian art.
In fact, when I interviewed Eric Vanden Eykel, a historian and scholar of early Christian literature, he said, “the Magi are the third most represented figures in Christian art, third only to Mary and Jesus.” And they’ve held a key place in our Christian imagination since at least the third century. We know this because, underneath and around the city of Rome, is an ancient network of some 40 catacombs. Adorning the Catacomb of Priscilla are two portraits of the Magi—one a colorful fresco that depicts three figures in red, yellow and green, their arms outstretched with gifts toward Mary, who holds the baby Jesus in her lap. The other is a slab of marble covering Severa’s burial niche. It resembles the fresco, but with a few added details—a star overhead and little “Phrygian hats” on the Magi, which in Roman art was used to signify these were out-of-towners.
But nowhere in Matthew’s Nativity account does he mention their number. And the Greek word he uses to name these gift-bearing figures is magoi, which had a multitude of meanings in antiquity—from charlatans to wise men to royal advisors. So what can we say about these mysterious figures who have played such an important role in children’s pageants and Christian devotion alike?
According to Dr. Eykel, Matthew includes the Magi in his narrative in order to “validate the kingship of Jesus.” He uses their proximity to kings to make it clear that Herod the Great is not the true king of the Judeans and to highlight the political struggle between Jesus and the Roman empire. And while this certainly isn’t Matthew’s only message, he bookends his entire Gospel with this theme of Jesus’ kingship. “So the only two points in the Gospel where Jesus is called the king of the Judeans,” Dr. Eykel explains, “is when the Magi come looking for him at the start and then also when he’s crucified.”
As a scholar of early Christian literature, Dr. Eykel isn’t concerned with proving or disproving the historical existence of the Magi, but he does suspect they are most likely literary creations of Matthew. “It’s one of those things,” he explains, “where if something fits just really, really well with the overall story that you’re telling, it’s likely that you probably embellish that.”
Does it matter whether the Magi were real historical figures or literary creations of Matthew? On the one hand, the Magi’s existence is not a cornerstone of our faith. Catholics already understand Scripture to be a divinely inspired, though not always literal, testament to salvation history. The church recognizes that within the Bible we find a rich spread of poetry, myth and figurative story. With this appreciation of different literary genres we can say that something doesn’t need to be factually true in order to convey a central truth or profound expression of faith.
On the other hand, what a magnificent story the Magi bring to us each Christmas! Producing the “We Three Kings” episode for “Hark!’ was like peeling an onion. Layers upon layers of meaning unfolded as I made a study of the Magi, the star they followed, the gifts they brought and the music they have inspired. When I spoke with Guy Consolmagno, S.J., director of the Vatican Observatory and a modern stargazer, about why the Star of Bethlehem has intrigued us for so long, he mused: “We can see the star. We can’t see Jesus. We can see the star. We can’t see God. We can see something in the universe that is beautiful and seemingly eternal. And to know that that’s not God, but something pointing us to God, is very encouraging.”
For me, the story of the Magi and the star functions like any keepsake or memento from someone we love. Although a picture or a locket cannot possibly contain the entire mystery, magic and presence of our loved one, it can remind us of the key moments and memories that made an everlasting impact on us.
And while I may not know exactly where the Magi originated, if they actually brought myrrh to a baby, and if the star they followed was a comet or a heliacal rising, there is something that journeying with the Magi has taught me. Perhaps it is not about pinning down answers but allowing ourselves to leave the old, familiar ways behind so that we might be transformed by wonder. Because “at the end of the day,” Brother Consolmagno reminded me, “it’s the wonder itself that tells me that God is present.”
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