The Magi Today

This Christmas, more than usual, people have been crying foul over issues of political correctness. The most notable instance of this arose around the decision by Seattle’s Sea–Tac International Airport authority to remove from its premises all Christmas trees and related paraphernalia. A rabbi had petitioned the airport for inclusion of a menorah amongst the decorations. After consulting with its lawyers (naturally), it concluded that it would be simpler to remove all decorations than be sensitive to the existence of other faith traditions and their ways of celebrating. Seattle residents are angry.

Closer to home, a similar anger has arisen from a rather odd source. It seems an unsigned letter is circulating on the letterhead of a blue–chip firm in Toronto’s financial district. I have confirmed that the purported author did, in fact, pen the epistle. However, good taste (and fear of liability) prevents me from revealing its author’s identity. Needless to say, the person in question owns a significant piece of downtown real estate. It would appear that she has found Jesus and is incensed that she can’t share that discovery with all the world. The demands of political correctness are nothing short of reverse discrimination. Since Jesus is, after all, “the way, the truth, and the life,” isn’t it incumbent upon the author to share the Good News?

The fact that the author sends this missive on the finest stationery to friends who are partners and CEO’s and majority shareholders of all her “aligned” interests should, of itself, constitute sufficient evidence why political correctness (which I prefer to call “sensitivity”) is necessary. No other religion has such access. But for most of the world, the Good News has proved to be some of the worst news imaginable. The most significant event in the history of Christianity had nothing to do with the birth of Jesus; it was Constantine’s decision, early in the 4th century, to make Christianity the official religion of the Roman empire. At that point, Christianity allied itself with the concerns of power and ceased to be a band of misfits operating on the social margins. One need only look to the White House to recognize how that alliance persists today.

For me, Christmas has become a difficult proposition. In a good mood, I am inclined to treat it as a non–event, an excuse for a holiday. In a darker mood, I am tempted to treat it as an occasion to remember the introduction to our planet of untold horrors, in the same way I might remember the Holocaust or the bombing of Nagasaki. Is there anything I can salvage from the wreckage of the Christmas celebration?

Last week, I received a Christmas card (not a holiday card) from a Farsi friend of mine. Inside, he had written: “Did you know that the magi were actually Zoroastrian priests? Neat, eh?” My friend is Zoroastrian. His note made me think. What if … (always a good way to begin a theological reflection) … what if the Messianic announcement and the Jesus birth were calls, not to a new believing, but to a new doing? What if that nativity was a grand act of ecumenism, summoning the faithful of every faith whatever the faith—like the Zoroastrian magi—to engage one another as fellow travellers on a spiritual pilgrimage? What if that is the Christmas message?

On such an account, the Sea–Tac International airport authority is wrong. It should have tried, with all abandon, to honour people of every tradition. In the same way, the author of this letter that has found its way onto the desks of the well–connected should not be worried if her own tradition gets little notice in the midst of so many other manifestations of faithfulness. In fact, this is a greater cause for celebration. If we have to attend with all deliberation to the traditions of our brothers and sisters, then we cannot help but notice that, above all else, the world is full of people yearning in their own ways for the in–breaking of the spiritual into their daily lives. We are bound together in that yearning.

And so, 2000 years after the birth of Jesus, I feel as if I have enjoyed a personal visit from the magi, and like their predecessors so long ago, they have blessed me with a gift—a fresh insight about the nature of my own believing. It reassures me that there is, indeed, Good News: it is possible to listen; it is possible to find true spirituality amongst those whose traditions are very different from our own; it is possible to celebrate together; it is possible to enjoy a communion of all humanity.