Awkward Moments in Religious History - 10. Three Wise Men?

“I’m telling you guys it’s that one,” said one of the three men, as he pointed toward the heavens.

Balthasar had enough, “There are millions of stars up there Gaspar! How do we know your not leading us to the edge the earth?”

“If you just look to where I’m pointing you can see that it’s the one right next to the two that are sort of close together.”

“I’ll tell you this,” Melchoir added his voice to the others, “if I don’t get my ass of this camel soon, I wont be able to walk straight. What I wouldn’t give for a nice soft donkey right about now.”

“I hear ya brother,” Balthasar agreed, “I’ve had sand riding up my…”

“Wait! I’ve found the way my friends,” Gaspar declared enthusiastically much to the annoyance of the other two, “it must be just over those hills.”

“You mean the hills overlooking Bethlehem? The village with the burning fires that we see glowing in the distance, and the same Bethlehem that we have been riding toward for the last hour, that Bethlehem?” Balthasar asked, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Yes, this is definitely the way.” Gaspar ignored his friend and gazed into the distance, drawing a shared eye roll from his two companions.

Their anticipation increased as the three wise men approached the village. Their journey from the East was long and on this very night Melchoir had predicted that they would meet the infant that would grow to be King to his people.

Gaspar was noticed frantically checking every pocket he had, “Has anyone seen my myrrh? Oh Allah, I think I forgot my gift the for new babe!”

“Calm down Gaspar, check your saddle bag on the side there,” suggested Melchoir.

“Found it, found it, here it is the saddle bag, who would have thought!” Gaspar gushed as he held is gift aloft.

“Drama queen,” muttered Belthasar under his breath.

They crossed the boundary to the small town, and made their way slowly through Bethlehem. Past the sandal maker shop, past the robe maker shop, past the House of Wives, and soon they came upon a stable with a young couple sitting in the straw, a babe swaddled in the arms of the woman who stared at the three men curiously.

“Greetings my lady,” Melchoir began, “we come from the East to pay our respects to the new King among men.”

“Well met good sir, but who are you exactly?” Joseph was a little suspicious of these strange men.

“I am Melchoir, my good man, seer of all things. This is Balthasar, teller of fortunes,” Balthasar bowed gracefully before Melchoir continued, “and Gaspar the Great, Astrologer Extraordinaire.”

Melchoir could kill Gaspar for insisting he use such a title. Gaspar attempted to bow in the same manner as Balthasar, but managed only to spill some of the myrrh he was holding in a jar.

Melchoir ignored the blunder and turned his attention back on the happy parents.

“We bear gifts for the young one. May we approach?”

“Please wise sirs,” Mary waved them in much to Joseph’s annoyance.

“I bring you gold,” Melchoir bowed low and set it in front of the still swaddled child.

Joseph whistled softly to show his appreciation, “Nice gift dude.”

“I bring you frankincense,” Balthasar again bowed low and also set it in front of the baby.

“Oh my, thank you so much, I love frankincense and I just ran out!” This time it was Mary who was impressed.

Gaspar moved forward and tripped on his robe bringing him to his knees in front of the couple. “I bring you myrrh,” he flourished his hand toward the jar as he set it down.

“I’m sorry what?” Mary inquired.

“I think he said fur dear,” Joseph added helpfully.

“Ah fur!” Mary brightened.

“No myrrh.” Gaspar corrected, but Mary and Joseph looked at him in confusion. “You know… myrrh,” he tried again. Still blank looks. “Comes from a prickly bush… smells real nice.”

“Ah of course, thank you, thank you.” Mary shook her head slightly and shrugged her shoulders at Joseph telling him she still didn’t know what the man was offering.

“I’ll just leave it there,” Gaspar said deflated of his joy for the gift.

Melchoir jumped in to break the tension. “May we look upon the babe before we take our leave?” he asked humbly. “A child begot from such a lovely woman as yourself must also be striking.”

Joseph gave the man the evil eye.

“Of course you may,” Mary blushed, and unwrapped her bundle, titling him slightly so the three wise men could cast their gaze upon their future savior. “His name is Jesus.”

“Whoa, sweet Jesus! Would you look at him!” Balthasar recoiled in horror, rubbing his eyes.

“He is precious is he not?” Mary cooed, not cluing in to the meaning of Balthasar’s words.

“That’s one word for it.” Melchoir replied, shaking his head to try and rid the sight of the homely creature from his vision.

“Oh my! It looks as if the devil itself has stepped upon the infants face!”

Everyone stopped and looked directly at Gaspar, their mouths hanging open.

“Well we should probably go!” Melchoir concluded hurriedly, and pushed Gaspar toward his camel.

And so the wise men found themselves heading back out of town, a little more quickly then when they had arrived.

“Have you ever seen anything so repulsive as that, Melchoir?” Balthasar whispered.

Melchoir simply shook his head.

“And you Gaspar, Word Smith Extraordinaire, you couldn’t come up with anything more subtle than it looks like the devil himself stepped on the child's face?” Balthasar shook his head in wonder.

“What?” Gaspar asked innocently, “You saw that kid, tell me I’m lying.”

No one said a word.

“He’ll probably be a hot when he’s older,” Gaspar added.

Both Melchoir and Balthasar looked at their friend with an arched eyebrow.

“Just sayin’ is all,” his voice trailed off as he shifted uncomfortably on his camel, “the ugly ones always grow up to be the good looking ones.”

“I heard you were a pretty child,” Balthasar said to Gaspar in his deadpan voice, while Melchoir coughed to cover a laugh.

Gaspar beamed oblivious to the quip, “Oh indeed, to hear my mother tell it, I was the finest of her brood."

And with that, the three wise men retreated to the desert, not to the East of course, but on another journey, to await an older and hopefully more becoming saviour.