by Samantha Adalia
On a sunny afternoon in the sixth year of Jesus, his mother Mary showed to him the gifts of the Magi from when he was two years old.
Over the uppermost shelf in the bedroom Jesus called his own, there were three chests. They were all carved and coloured with foreign-looking and elaborate patterns, with an air of majesty to them. A layer of dust covered the chests, for a long time no one had held and opened them. Mary pointed to them now.
She smiled to her son who was waiting for an explanation, then began:
"My child, these chests were given to you as gifts when you were but once a babe. The brightest star one almost could not comprehend was shining high in the night sky. I was watching over you inside, when there were many sounds coming from outside and I knew a host was there to visit.
“Next, I opened the door to wise foreign men who appeared to have travelled from far away in the East, judging by their faces, clothing, and escort. You were in my arms as I answered them, and when they set eyes on you they suddenly bowed down and worshipped you!
“'The King of the Jews! The shepherd of the people of Israel! Praise and glory be to your name!'
“I stood there, marvelling. Then three of them rose with eyes shining to bring to you three gifts."
At last, Mary rose and carried each of them to the window seat to show Jesus.
The biggest chest was an indigo box shaped like the pointing petals of a flower, its cover inlaid with stained pieces of glass forming a star, and polished dark wood lined its opening.
The median chest was made of a light shade of mahogany, the colours of a sunset behind vines that sprouted many a bird and leaf encircled its sides, and an array of gems were clustered on the top.
And finally, the smallest vessel, with dark onyx for its body, was decorated only with shards of mirror that reflected sunlight or cold, bright stars.
"They-they are beautiful. And… they gave them to me?" The boy Jesus' eyes grew wide in amazement.
"My son, you are the only one fully deserving of them," Mary answered with sincerity, making Jesus ponder these words. He turned his eyes to the gifts again.
"What is inside, Mother?"
Mary took the biggest chest first, and let Jesus lift the top. A shining came from inside.
There was a slab of the purest gold, smooth and pristine. Jesus slid his little fingers over it, and imagined it being mined, refined, and welded - which all led to his wonder of the gift at that moment. A gift fit for a king.
He pulled open the second gift, and peered inside. The chest was half full with tiny pieces of resin. Mary told him it was called frankincense - a special incense, offered as a sweet aroma to the LORD. Half of it Mary had already offered in the temple in Jesus' behalf, and brought back promises of blessing from the priest.
Jesus began to wonder why these certain gifts were given to him.
Then, he undid the clasp of the last one. Lying on top of red cloths was a clay bottle. He brought it near to his eyes.
"That is myrrh," Mary said, with a hint of confusion in her voice.
"Why did they give this to me?" Jesus asked.
"I… don't know, son. Myrrh is an anointing oil, and a sweet perfume used when burying the dead," Mary answered, while silently replacing all the gifts from where they came.
***
"Mother," Jesus called up from his room, rolling close the last scroll he had of the Scriptures. He went downstairs and showed Mary the last page of the scroll of Psalms. “I have no more left to read,” he laughed.
“Ah,” she smiled, and thought of a solution. “Your father and I have only just enough to get you ten more scrolls, and I should think our collection can be made complete in the next few years.”
“Why not get the other ten with the gift of the Magi?” Jesus suggested.
“You wise child,” said Mary, ruffling his hair, amazed at her nine year-old’s suggestion.
“Hello, James,” he said to his little brother who was by the window in their room. Then he turned and began taking the gifts down from the shelf. James now looked curiously. Jesus saw his eager eyes, and explained the story behind them. James became excited, his green eyes lighting up.
“Show them to me, please!” he requested.
Jesus opened the chest of gold. “I shall buy more scrolls of the Scriptures with this,” he told him.
“Awww,” James cooed. “But I s’ppose Scriptures are more precious than gold.”
“Right!” Jesus smiled, marvelling at the understanding his four year-old brother had, even now. Next, he took the frankincense. James held pieces of it like sand, and chuckled at its texture.
“Now, this is myrrh.” Jesus took the bottle from the red cloths.
“What is it?”
“It’s a sweet perfume, an anointing oil… used when burying somebody.”
James nodded confusingly, then slid his fingers over the cap.
“Could you open it?”
“I’m not sure, James… I don’t really see why.”
“Well, it’s yours, isn’t it? And I bet it would smell really nice.”
Jesus wrinkled at his dialogue, but because of his search for wonder out of everything he agreed. The cover broke open, and a lovely scent filled the room.
Then Jesus suddenly wept.
The tears surged like waterfalls on the Jordan, sobs shaking him like storms upon ships on the Sea of Galilee.
James was taken aback, but he began hugging him, and with his best efforts tried to console him.
“Jesus, it’s okay, I’m here with you, it’s going to be okay, you don’t have to cry… Why are you crying anyways?!”
Jesus was still crying, and it was a minute until James could get a word out of him.
“Why?” he asked. With eyes blurred from tears Jesus found the cap and closed the myrrh bottle.
“James,” he gasped with difficulty, as if starting to explain why. Yet a bout of sobbing came again, and he struggled to say, “No, you wouldn’t understand yet.”
“Why?” James asked again, but he’d given up already. Jesus stood up, wiped his tears and carried the two boxes up again.
“James, I promise I will tell you when you are old enough to understand. Right now, just know that I cried because when the bottle opened I felt something very sad. Please understand,” he requested his brother sincerely, holding him by the shoulders.
James took pity from Jesus’ hurt face and nodded, trusting his promise.
“Thank you.”
James accompanied him in bringing the gold to his parents. He found he was right when he said that the Word of the LORD was far important than gold, as Jesus delved into and lived them, then, James could see how his life became beautiful because of them.
***
“Jesus, can we look at those boxes again?” James, now eight years old, was playing with him one afternoon.
“Why not?” So Jesus reached up for them with a spark in his eyes.
“Aren’t these boxes beautiful?” he remarked while examining them. James grinned, holding the smallest, shiny one. Suddenly he recalled what had happened before, then grew serious.
“Brother. Do you remember your promise?”
Jesus paused from shaking the chest of frankincense. Wordlessly, they opened the bottle of myrrh again. The fragrance flowed out. And the tears returned. But Jesus held himself this time.
“You know, James? A vision had come over me four years past, and so it was awhile ago. But it is so terrible, so terrible... I think that if you are to hear, you would be very, very sad. I wouldn’t want to wish that on you! Are you sure you want me to tell you?”
James was surprised again.
“If only you are willing. I want to, but the LORD Almighty revealed it to you, so let He be the one to decide.”
Jesus was also surprised by the words he said. Yet the spirit of the LORD pressed him to tell James.
“All right…” he replied, and silently prayed for his brother not to receive his burden of sorrow.
“My brother, I was on top of a rocky hill, and many people were moving around me. There were some who stood with arms pointing to someone, and had faces full of scorn: they were mocking. And some were falling prostrate, with indescribable anguish evident in their wailing: they were mourning.
I then turned my head towards what everyone was looking at, and shivered at the scene.
Three men were hung upon three crosses. The ones to the left and to the right wore faces of resign to their fate, but it seemed that they were not the ones who received the crowd’s attention. So I looked upon the man in the middle.
My hands went up to my face, for what I could observe about him was horrific. Red wounds were scratched all over him, blood dripped from everywhere, a crown of thorns was on his head, and nails were driven through his skin so he was suspended on the cross. I walked nearer to gaze at his face, then my hands fell and went limp.
Looking down on me were the same wide and bright eyes.”
“No! No! No!” James yelled, and found he was crying painfully too. Unable to keep it in, Jesus joined him.
“You are chosen by God, my brother. But why did He choose you to die?”
James fell down on the floor weeping, bringing Jesus with him. They embraced each other, comforting themselves, but surrendered themselves to the will of the LORD, the comfort greater than their embrace.
***
From the mill Mary heard the noise of a thump from the floor above.
Her feet tread fast on the steps, and hands swiftly swept the curtain to the room of her sons.
Jesus and James were both fast asleep on the floor, a different kind of peace lying over them. Mary gently tousled their fine curly hair, delighted that they were both alright.
Though, she could smell something pleasant in the room, and found the source as a bottle by Jesus’ side. It was broken open, and the liquid was slowly dripping to the floor. She lifted it up, placed it on the shelf and decided to wait for Joseph to figure out how to close it again.
Later, the mystery of that gift returned to her. Why was this given to Jesus? And another question was presented to her mind. Who is Jesus?
She remembered the words of the Magi, the angel who heralded his birth to her, and even prophets concerning Jesus.
“The King of the Jews!”
“He will be called Son of the Most High.”
“Sovereign Lord… my eyes have seen your salvation.”
The answers to her questions were revealed to her in a new way, and she looked at the boy sleeping in the corner in a different light. She became afraid to touch him as she began to lay blankets over each of her children, because this boy was her King, the Son of the Most High, her salvation, and he lay not five inches away from her.
Do I even dare? she asked herself. But the Spirit of the LORD reminded her that she had found favour in His eyes, and at once she felt immeasurably blessed to be able serve Him. So with a smile and joy brimming out from her eyes, she bade them good-night, and drew the curtain over Jesus and James.
