Long before the Three Magis were born, a discussion ensued among the Archangels and other Angels. They knew that nothing in this universe was ever left to chance. Destiny lorded it over creation. God knew that. He, of course, would not want to belabor that. It would cause much philosophizing, too much talk and He knew how speech ruined kingdoms.
If there was a curse that he hurled like a tired lightning, it was that men (for it was only men considered then during that Time before Time) possessed varied languages, that they be given not the gift of understanding but the curse of confusion. The problem with this bane was God neglected to issue a caveat. The result was a blooming of different thought couched in the words that Angels and Archangels, Seraphims and Dominations themselves could not make sense of.
Imagine winged, powerful creatures marveling at each other’s divine strength. Imagine these beings hearing sounds without sounds travelling through the ether and imagine them not being able to read the cuneiforms and hieroglyphics floating mindlessly in front of them. The heavens knew what happened when angels, slightly lower than God, went into debate: they wrestled with their mind, which could bring about deluge or even the birth of Snakes that challenged the gatekeeper of the Garden where the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was planted.
We all knew the consequences of the Snake and the Deluge.
Anyway, there was chaos once more in Heaven during that day. That day was the moment—which meant a thousand lifetime among the clouds—when the conference for the First Christmas took place before the citizens of God’s kingdom.
Why should they be kings? Raphael was contesting the idea that kings be the ones to lead the search for the birthplace of the Messiah. The idea of the Son of God was already processed for millions of years but it was the bright idea of Uriel, He of the Light and Fire of God, that three Kings from the East be sent signs about the birth of Jesus. The sign would be a blazing Star.
Michael was non-committal and was not quite active in the fiery exchange of ideas, which was a bit odd seeing how he was brandishing his flaming sword. He had only one concern – that no Devil would show himself in that cave in Bethlehem.
A cave? Azrael was baffled. The Angel of Death seemed shocked that birth would occur in a place that prayed to dying.
Alright, alright, it was Raphael again, he of wisdom and intellectual pursuits, beaming, his mouth glistening with a million suns and his brain tingling with more stars that there were in Heaven. Let us change them to “Magis.” Banish kings. Let us have Wise men. Men of Science. They will be charting the skies, not manipulating political plans. They will consult writings older than the Four Rivers in the Garden of Eden.
Another Archangel was quiet during the tumult. He was Gabriel. His duty was to tell a Woman many news, all of them mysterious and beyond human comprehension. It was a grave duty. First, Gabriel should make sure his message was clear and not open to misinterpretation. And so while all his cohorts were bothered about kings and wise men, he was deep in thoughts about his task.
These were Gabriel’s ruminations: How can I convince this woman that she would bear child without knowing a man? And would she believe that what she would give birth to would be the Son of God? As if that was not enough, Gabriel almost gagged at the thought that, maybe, he needed to tell the poor husband of this woman to accept the news.
But he did well, Gabriel. While all the village was quiet, he caused the small window to the simple room of the Woman. There was no question about it, he would not be his usual majestic self. He would be simple, too. No mighty wings. No macho, handsome face. Just a voice, soft and comforting: Hail, M…
Gabriel knew it was not original. Another god once showed himself to Niobe as a flash of light.
But how would the Wise Men find the birthplace of this Son of God. Jophiel, the Angel of Beauty, would not miss this moment for his sacred life: The Wise Men would follow the scent of the most beautiful of flowers. Ariel, the archangel of animals and nature, had a better idea: Why not observe the flock of birds, for where they would be going at night, at cold, cold night, would signal something auspicious.
Let us make it simple, the cherubs chorused: Let’s command the sky to put the brightest star and let it beam down to where the birth would take place. In a cave, with animals, Ariel was contented with the scenario. The Seraphims all smiled. They knew their task; they would sing: Glory to…
And so it came to pass that in the little town, the magnificent birth occurred. The Archangels could have taken the credit for the production design of that magical night but they knew someone with greater intellect than them took care of the process. God also played a tiny trick and this was to allow, not kings and not wise men, but poor shepherds to be the first to worship the Child. As for the Three Kings who thought they were the Three Wise Men, they offered their gifts and became the first diplomats, crossing dangerous borders and telling splendid lies to an old king who would not believe a Child would be more powerful than him, and that loving one’s enemy would be the most popular discovery in the field of human relations.
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