More Than Three Kings: The Radical, Political Truth Behind the Christmas Story

Beyond the Familiar Scene

The Christmas nativity scene is one of the most enduring images in our culture: three royal kings, dressed in velvet and jewels, bringing the baby Jesus finely-wrapped birthday gifts. It's a peaceful, almost cozy picture of adoration.

But the original biblical account in the Gospel of Matthew is far from this sweet tale. When we look closely at the text, we find a raw political and theological narrative, one that is defined by state-sanctioned fear, brutal violence, and a radical, world-altering hope. By removing centuries of tradition from this story, we can uncover surprising takeaways from the story of the magi that seem more relevant today than ever. Here are four possibilities:

1. It’s a Political Thriller, Not a Fairytale

The story of the magi unfolds within a specific context of political oppression. Matthew’s Gospel sets the scene “In the time of King Herod,” who is a puppet ruler of the Roman Empire, particularly known for his violent paranoia.

When Herod, the installed king, hears news from foreign astrologers about the birth of a new “King of the Jews,” his reaction is not joy, but terror. It drives him to coercion and control, culminating in what Matthew’s account describes as the horrific slaughter of Bethlehem’s children (Matthew 2:16-18). His fear escalates into genocide, echoing Pharaoh’s slaughter of Hebrew infants in the first chapter of Exodus.

In this volatile landscape, the magi’s journey and their homage to Jesus are not merely devotional acts—they are deeply political. By kneeling before a vulnerable child in an occupied territory, they make a bold and embodied declaration that their ultimate loyalty lies with this new king, not with the violent empire represented by Herod. 

Matthew presents Jesus’ birth not in opposition to politics, but within it. The empire’s reaction to Jesus reveals the threat he poses to systems of oppression. (Rev. Dr. Boyung Lee, from her feminist commentary on Matthew 2.) 

This framing matters because it mirrors the reality of oppression in our world today. Palestinian theologian Mitri Raheb, preaching from Bethlehem, calls the Christmas story a “Palestinian story par excellence,” rooted in the painful realities of occupation and state-sanctioned violence. The good news, he explains, is found in God's deliberate choice:

When the fullness of time came... God did not choose Rome or Athens for Christ to be born at; He chose occupied Bethlehem.

2. The “Three Kings” Are a Myth

The popular image of three kings named Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar is a product of later Christian tradition, not the biblical text itself. 

King Tingz (by Nicolette Faison)

The original Gospel account is much more mysterious. Matthew calls the visitors magoi apo anatolōn—magi from the East—without specifying number, gender, or religion. The idea of three visitors was most likely drawn from the three gifts they offered: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

The term magoi comes from Old Persian and refers to a “priestly class in Zoroastrianism.” This detail directly challenges the myth of royal kings. They were foreign, Gentile astrologers—figures who would have been considered outsiders by the religious establishment. Their inclusion is significant because it places God's activity firmly on the margins, subverting imperial logic where a new king is hailed not by the religious elite in the center of power, but by Gentile astrologers on the fringes.

3. The Magi Might Have Been Women

In her fresh, feminist interpretation, theologian Rev. Dr. Boyung Lee proposes that the magi could have been women.

The basis for this theory lies in the original term. In Zoroastrian tradition, the title magoi could refer to both men and women. Reimagining the magi this way radically shifts the story’s meaning. Instead of “strange men” arriving at the door, we can picture “wise women crossing boundaries of religion, ethnicity, and culture to stand in solidarity with a marginalized mother and child.”

In this interpretation, their journey is not just reverence and worship but an act of “radical accompaniment.” Their visit becomes a “feminine embodiment of God’s epiphany.” This reading is particularly powerful when considering the scene from Mary’s perspective. During her postpartum recovery, a time when cultural law might have kept her isolated, she may have welcomed the solidarity of other women into her room far more readily than that of foreign men. 

4. It’s a Story About Responding to Fear

At its core, the Epiphany story is a clash between two starkly different responses to fear.

First, there is Herod’s response. Terrified of losing his grip on power, his fear mutates into “deception, surveillance, and mass violence.” He deploys “state-sanctioned terror to preserve power,” revealing how untransformed fear can lead to the most destructive outcomes.

The magi provide a powerful “counterpoint.” They, too, face fear and uncertainty, traveling through foreign lands and confronting a paranoid tyrant. But they “don’t let Herod’s fear-driven demands stop them.” They model what it looks like “to be led by hope, moving through fear without letting it paralyze us.”

Their final act—being warned in a dream and returning home “by another road”—is deeply symbolic. It signifies not just a different geographical route, but a “transformed life.” They leave changed by their encounter with Christ, choosing a new path forward. In her commentary on the passage, Rev. Dr. Boyung Lee frames this choice by asking a question that echoes the poet Rumi:

Will we move the way fear makes us move? Or will we move the way love calls us to?

A Different Road Home

When we look past the sanitized and saccharin nativity narratives we're so accustomed to, we find that the story of the magi is far more political, complex, and challenging than the domesticated version we often see. It’s a narrative about political resistance, radical inclusion, and the courageous choice to pursue hope in a world defined by fear.

The journey of the magi is an invitation to us all. It asks us to consider which path we will choose—the one dictated by fear, control, and violence, or the other road of courageous hope. In a world that still brims with violence and uncertainty, the magi's journey insists that fear doesn't have to stop us - that love is the antidote to fear and that, ultimately, it is Love that leads us forward.