We don't know how many wise men came to visit Jesus but the Bible tells us that they brought 3 gifts. It is believed that gold was to represent the kingship of Jesus, frankincense symbolized the divinity of Jesus, and myrrh as an embalming agent for the human Jesus. The gifts told us a story about who Jesus was believed to be by the men who traveled from the East, following a star to Bethlehem, at the time of the Nativity. 

     The story is fraught with mystery and myth. All we really know is very little from the Bible. We look to sources external to Scripture for any related information. We surmise that the men were "Magi" or might have been kings or maybe astrologers. We don't know if they really did ride camels, or any other animal, for that matter. They might have come on foot.

     What we do know is that they brought their treasures to give to the Christ Child. Saint Basil would say, I believe, that the charity of the Three Wise Men is the first incidence of Biblical justice in the New Testament. They brought gifts that were both useful and symbolic. The gifts bore a message, that the givers recognized Jesus' kingship, divinity, and humanity. When we give a gift, what is the message? Do our gifts speak to the others' integrity and dignity? Do we give from our treasures?                                                       -by Jan

Well - After reading the quote at the top of this column, I guess we can assume that Basil wasn't hitting the malls for the after-Christmas sales!

I want to joke, because taking Basil's words seriously would make me really uncomfortable. Does he actually mean that all that stuff in my closet isn't really mine? But I've got the receipts!

Basil challenges the very notion of ownership. He seems to suggest that just because I have possession of something does not mean that I own it. If I am not using it, I have no claim upon it. Instead, it belongs to someone else who needs it. He does not say it would be nice if I shared my stuff with other people; he says it actually belongs to them.

Now, I am certainly not ready to overthrow the capitalist system, nor even to renounce the modest inheritance I will soon get from my father's estate. Still, as the New Year begins, I feel that Basil's is a voice I need to hear.

I am reminded of the Rule of Benedict, which directs that the cellarer of the monastery (who oversaw not only the kitchen but also the workshops), was to "regard all the utensils of the monastery and its whole property as if they were the sacred vessels of the altar" (RB 31) - as if all belongings were consecrated to God.

I wonder: If I were to regard my shirts and shoes and bank accounts as consecrated to God, would I hold on to them more tightly, or would I hold them more lightly, more ready to use them for the good of all?