Three Kings

By Amber Lanier Nagle

When I was a child, the haunting melody of We Three Kings would follow me through the house during the holiday season.

We Three Kings of Orient are, Bearing gifts we traverse afar, Field and fountain, Moor and mountain, Following yonder Star.

I’d sit at our Wurlitzer upright piano, picking out the mysterious minor-key tune, singing about frankincense and myrrh, imagining those noble travelers following a “yonder star” across desert lands. The song painted such vivid pictures in my young mind—three magnificent kings in flowing robes, their camels laden with precious gifts, all guided by a brilliant star in the East.

But my fascination with the three wise men wasn’t limited to the lyrics of Christmas music alone. In our front yard in Bonaire, my family erected our own tribute to that holy night with a plastic Nativity scene that my mother had ordered from either the Sears or Spiegel catalog. We set up the scene ev-

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ery year and connected the pieces to electricity through a maze of extension cords. The plastic figurines glowed softly in the December darkness, along with a silver metallic Christmas tree that spun on the front porch illuminated by a bright blue spotlight.

Our Nativity scene had them all—the baby Jesus, a kneeling Mary, Joseph, a lone little lamb, a patient camel, and of course, those three wise men who had captured my imagination in song.

Trying our best to recreate that ancient scene, we’d scatter fresh hay around the figures and construct a simple manger from spare boards and pine tree limbs. Above it all hung our own guiding star, though ours was secured with fishing line rather than suspended in the heavens above. The whole display took on an unexpectedly charming touch thanks to our Old English Sheepdog, Boaz, who seemed to think we’d created the world’s most elaborate dog bed just for him. He would often burrow into the hay beside the sweet baby Jesus, becoming an unorthodox but beloved addition to our Nativity scene that never failed to make us laugh.

As a young girl, I’d stand back and admire our front yard Nativity. From Sunday church services, I knew the story of Mary, Joseph and Jesus well, but I was not as familiar with the story of the wise men— the three kings. They were a mystery to me. And so a few weeks ago, as I reminisced about the plastic figurines we’d set out on the lawn each December and the song, I set my sights on writing about them.

But before I get started, let me say this: I am not a theologian, nor do I profess to be some armchair expert on the stories and or teachings of the Bible, so forgive me if I make a mistake or assumption that does not align with traditional beliefs. I have shaped the following story from my own understanding and research. As the foundation, I used the story of the three wise men, also known as the Magi, pulled from the book of Matthew.

You might think you know their story—the three kings who followed a star to Bethlehem—but there’s so much more to it than what we see in present- day Nativity scenes and hear described in Christmas carols.

Picture yourself in ancient Persia, where towers stretch toward the stars and wise men cloaked in dusty robes spend their nights studying the heavens above. These three men probably weren’t kings at all, but rather something even more intriguing: They were