I remember when we first saw that star - it rose and we watched it for days - we couldn’t keep our excitement down, we knew what it meant - a special king was born.
We’re scientists by training - we observe, we study and we learn. But we couldn’t keep a scientific detachment when we saw that star. We knew that we had to be there - wherever the new king was. So we set out across the desert. There was a searing heat by day, and it froze by night. But we followed it to where it set in the evenings - out over the western horizon. We took a few detours - and we met that snake, Herod - but eventually we found the place.
He was just a tiny mite. A poor mother and father - their first child, and you wondered how they would ever make ends meet. A little Jewish kid. We looked at them, and I thought, so this is the new king who’s been born?
But you should have seen his eyes. It was like all the depths of eternity were sunk into them. Somehow you knew, earth and heaven had met up in that little body. All my studies - the rise and fall of empires, the rising and the setting of the sun - stars being born and stars burning up - they all came into focus and they all looked so tiny in his presence. It was like every hope, every prayer, every great human idea that was ever thought of - they were all summed up in that face.
We offered him our presents, and then we fell down on our knees and worshipped. We couldn’t help ourselves. We were priests and magicians and noblemen, and yet we fell down and worshipped a baby. And if I never read another scroll, and I never see another star, it won’t matter. I saw God, the day he came to earth.