Why the Magi Were Told to Return to Persia
How Our Post-Christmas Blues Prepares Us for the New Year
December 22, 2024
First Sunday after Christmas Day, Year C
St. Stephen’s UMC, Burke, VA
Matthew 2:1–12 (NRSVUE)*
*A Sermon Series on Fuquay’s The Way to Bethlehem
How have your past few days been since Christmas?
Some of you may have enjoyed the quietness that comes after the holiday bustle, savoring the stillness like a gift. Some of you may have struggled with the emptiness that follows — the sudden absence of lights, sounds, and togetherness leaving a hollow space in our hearts. Some of you may have experienced whiplash, immediately returning to the realities of work and schedules, caught in the grind of nine-to-five. Some of you may still be in the thick of it, navigating the excitement of the New Year or the chaos of children on winter break.
Coming down from the highs of celebrations can take a toll, and we all cope differently with what we call post-holiday blues. Some keep themselves busy by re-establishing their routines. Some jump back to normal diets and daily exercises. Some avoid social media to break free from comparison. Some declutter and re-organize their homes. Some jot down gratitude lists and make notes for next year’s holidays.
Post-holiday blues are very much like post-vacation or post-travel syndrome. We’ve all experienced the bittersweet feeling of returning to mundane reality after a vacation. Whether the trip went smoothly or not, we often feel a certain way when coming back from the novelty of travel. Not only that, we bring back more than just souvenirs when we return — we carry experiences that shape us. Stepping out of our ordinary spaces, we see, hear, smell, taste, and touch things that are unfamiliar and extraordinary. These moments broaden our perspectives, allowing us to view ourselves and our surroundings in a new light. Yet, this subtle shift in perspective often creates a dissonance, casting a cloud of melancholy as we readjust to the familiar.
One of the best ways to overcome post-vacation blues is to reflect on what we’ve learned during our journey and consider how to incorporate those discoveries into everyday life. For example, some people begin learning a new language, hoping to revisit a country they fell in love with. Others bring back the flavors of their travels, adding a new cuisine to their regular meals — not just by finding local restaurants, but by learning to cook those dishes themselves.
I believe the same can be true for post-holiday blues. Each holiday season leaves us with stories — some joyful, some challenging, and some bittersweet. Instead of rushing back into our routines, perhaps it’s worth taking time to reflect on what we’ve learned and how those lessons can shape our lives moving forward.
Personally, we had my mother-in-law with us during Christmas for the first time, and I learned how her presence made such a difference in our quality of life, even if it was only for a few days. I’ve shared this with some of you personally, but I’ll say it again: Blessed are the grandparents who go out of their way to help with childcare.
The reason I bring up post-holiday and post-travel blues is that I wonder what the Magi might have felt after their journey and how their expedition shaped them once they returned home.
In Matthew’s Gospel, we read about the “wise men from the East.” The term “wise men” is a translation of the word Magi, which originates from the Old Persian word magus, meaning “powerful.” These individuals were likely experts in astrology or the interpretation of dreams. Given the origin of the word and Persia’s location to the east of Jerusalem, it’s not unreasonable to assume they were from Persia.
Let’s consider the Magi’s journey with some imagination. From their homeland, these non-Jewish individuals observed a star they believed heralded the birth of the “king of the Jews.” With faith and determination, they packed their belongings and set off on a long expedition, intent on finding and worshiping this child-king — a purpose described in today’s scripture as “paying homage.”
Perhaps the Magi set their sights on Jerusalem from the beginning, logically expecting the king of the Jews to be born in the religious and political center of the Jewish people, or hoping someone there would surely know the exact location of the promised Messiah. The distance between Persia and Jerusalem could range from 500 to 1,200 miles, making their journey on camelback take at least three months. For context, 600 miles is roughly the distance from here to Atlanta, Georgia and 1,200 miles from here to New Orleans, Louisiana.
When they finally arrived in Jerusalem, the restless Magi began inquiring about this newborn king, eventually drawing the attention of King Herod, a ruler appointed by the Roman Empire to oversee Judea. As insecure leaders often do, Herod allowed his anxiety to spill over to the entire city, causing widespread fear and unrest. He quickly gathered his confidants and learned of Micah’s prophecy about Israel’s ruler being born in Bethlehem.
Suddenly, the Magi were privately invited into King Herod’s chamber and given the exact location of the birthplace of this newborn king. They were told, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.”
What might have been the Magi’s reaction to these words? Perhaps they were genuinely charmed by Herod’s apparent hospitality, interpreting his gesture as support for their mission and his desire to honor the child. Or did they sense something unsettling beneath his smooth words — perhaps an unease in his tone or a glimmer of fear and deception in his eyes? I imagine the Magi as wise and discerning individuals, but after a long and arduous journey, even the clearest judgment can falter.
Regardless of how they interpreted Herod’s words, the Magi pressed on, making their final effort to reach Bethlehem, just twenty miles away from Jerusalem. The star they had faithfully followed led them directly to the place where the child was. Imagine their overwhelming joy as they exclaimed, At last, we are finally here!
Upon entering the house, they saw the child with his mother. They knelt in reverence and worshiped him, absolutely certain that this child was indeed the promised messiah — not only the king of the Jews but also the savior of the world. Then, they offered the gifts they had carried since the beginning of their expedition: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
We do not know how long the Magi stayed after fulfilling their goal of worshiping the Christ child. But in that moment, they probably had three options for what’s next. First, they could return to their homeland, which they eventually did. Second, they could go back to Jerusalem and report to King Herod, as he had requested, though they were warned in a dream not to do so. Third, they could remain in Bethlehem for as long as possible.
Think about it. If you had the opportunity to meet God in such a personal and intimate way, would you be content to leave after just a brief encounter? Wouldn’t you want to remain near God for as long as possible, even if this God could not yet speak with you? Wouldn’t you want to be part of this child’s life, witnessing God’s work with your own eyes and hearing God’s voice with your own ears? How could you simply return home after encountering the long-awaited promised Messiah? Where did the Magi’s decisiveness come from — to leave when the very presence of God Incarnate was right before them?
Whenever I watch or read about people’s incredible journeys of expedition or survival, I often find myself wondering about their lives after those extraordinary experiences. How did they cope with their post-travel blues? How did they adjust to the mundane rhythm of normal life? How did their journey shape them and redirect the course of their lives?
In the same way, I wonder about the Magi in today’s story — what their lives looked like once they returned home and how their encounter with the Christ child transformed them. While we may never know the details, we do know this: the God of Israel invited these non-Jewish pagans to witness the newborn king firsthand, and the same God also directed them to return home by another road.
Matthew’s Gospel ends with this exact movement. When the remaining disciples were gathered at the mountain to worship the Risen Christ, he declared to them (28:19–20),
“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
And this is how the Holy Spirit continues to work with us. God invites us to encounter Jesus Christ, yet also sends us back to our ordinary lives as transformed people, carrying the light that is with us always, to the end of the age.
On this Sunday after Christmas, we have an opportunity to cope well with our post-holiday, post-travel blues. This Advent and Christmas journey has certainly been filled with blessings for many of us, which we should not take for granted.
As a congregation, we may have experienced this season a surge in participation, attendance, offerings, and overall excitement in the life of the church. Seasons like Christmas often uplift us, reminding us of the good old days of American Christendom when church life felt vibrant and central.
Someone recently suggested that we create another season like Christmas or Easter to sustain this momentum of generosity, activity, engagement, and increased visitors. While I agree that it’s vital to cultivate excitement during quieter periods, such as the summer months between Easter and Christmas, our liturgical calendar offers a profound reminder through the season of Ordinary Time. This period highlights that what is just as important as the extraordinary celebrations of Christmas and Easter is the ordinary life to which we are sent afterward.
The Magi’s journey teaches us that God not only gathers us but also sends us out — back to our homes, workplaces, and daily routines, carrying renewed hearts and rekindled light. Just as encountering the Light of the World is transformative, so too is the call to bear that light into a world still filled with darkness. Perhaps the greatest challenge facing the church today is learning how to navigate not only our post-holiday blues but also the broader post-Christendom blues.
What are our takeaways as we return from this journey?
What have we learned, and how can these discoveries shape our daily lives as we enter a new year?
May these reflections guide us as we step back into the ordinary days ahead.
In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Rev. Minoo Kim is an ordained elder in the United Methodist Church, currently serving in the Virginia Annual Conference. Follow his Medium publication to receive his latest sermons or check out his website minoowkim.com for his latest content. Peace!
