Ancient Customs
Persian border, 1 A.D.
Tugging on their camels’ reins, the three saddle-weary sages came to a stop next to the customs booth. The narrow hut’s occupant did not leave his stool but only craned his leathery neck out the window, the desert sun bouncing its rays off the gold badge on his dark blue turban.
“Citizenship?” he asked, eyeing the trio with professional suspicion.
“Persia,” announced Balthazar, answering for his companions Caspar and Melchior. “After two months away, we’re glad to be home.”
“Not so fast,” said the official. “Let’s see some I.D.”
The travelers reached into their cloaks and each produced a scroll. Gathering the documents, the official unrolled each in turn, peering back and forth between the parchments and their owners. “Mm-hm … mm-hm,” he muttered. “I must say, Mister Melchior, you don’t look much like your passport drawing.”
“I know,” replied Melchior. “It was sketched at one of those studios that guarantees passport portraits in two minutes or less.”
“Laziest likeness I’ve ever seen,” grumbled the official. “It’s just a blank circle for a head.”
“It captures his personality perfectly,” said Caspar.
The official sighed. “Where were you visiting, gentlemen?”
“The land of Judea, in Palestine,” said Balthazar. “Bethlehem in particular.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“Both.”
“And what is your business?”
“We study the stars.”
The official’s face lit up. “Interesting! What do you think of this young actress Betty White? I think she’s going to have a long career.”
“We’re astronomers,” said Caspar. “We study the stars in the sky.”
“Oh, I see. Well, what was happening in Bethlehem? A convention?”
“Baby shower.”
The official raised an eyebrow. “What are you— wise guys? You expect me to believe three men traveled a thousand miles to attend a baby shower?”
“It’s the truth,” affirmed Balthazar. “Our astronomical calculations and our study of prophecies led us to the conclusion that this particular birth could be the long-awaited savior of the Hebrews. We went to pay our respects.”
“Fascinating,” remarked the official. “Your statement opens the door to so many more questions … such as: Were there lots of hot, single women at this baby shower?”
“None,” Balthazar replied. “Mostly unkempt shepherds with body odor that could knock out a Roman legion. Oh, and a lawyer from the ACLU making sure the savior wasn’t born on public property.”
“Were there some nice gifts?”
“We gave gold, frankincense and myrrh, but the baby didn’t seem very interested in playing with them.”
“I told you we should’ve brought stuffed animals,” said Caspar. “Remember I said that? In Jerusalem we passed the Wailing Wall-mart and I said, ‘Let’s get the kid some actual toys.’”
“And what about me?” added Melchior. “I was the one who saw the street vendor selling board games and said we should look for something there.”
“You don’t give board games to a baby, Melchior.”
“But one game said Fun for the Holy Family.”
“Yeah, we probably should’ve bought that.”
“Gentlemen,” interrupted the customs official, “any goods coming back? Any alcohol or tobacco?”
“Tobacco? Just some cigars handed out by the father,” said Balthazar.
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Two cigars?”
“Two fathers. It’s complicated.”
“Nothing else to declare?” asked the official.
Caspar raised his hand. “I declare our trip to have been a great success! We met a child who will grow up to change the world!”
“Hear, hear!” agreed his two companions.
“I think we’re done here,” said the official, waving them through. “Carry on.”
The camels loped across the border. The three wise men were home.
Balthazar began to weep. “I’m glad to see my homeland again, but I must admit, I already miss him.”
“The customs agent?”
“No, Melchior. The child. I miss the little boy.”
“Boy?” said Melchior. “I saw the mother change the diaper. That was no boy.”
Balthazar and Caspar brought their camels to a sudden stop. Melchior, moving on ahead, turned back and gave a puzzled look. “What?”
“You’re certain … it was female?” asked Caspar.
“Duh!” said Melchior. “I’m pretty sure I know the difference! So what?”
“So what??” Balthazar bellowed. “Did you forget that the Hebrew prophets pointed to a male Messiah?! Not least of which was Isaiah: ‘Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.’… A son!!”
“Ohhhhh. Right.”
“Do you realize what this means?!” said Caspar.
The three men avoided eye contact but spoke simultaneously. “We visited the wrong baby!”
A stunned silence ensued for several moments. Eventually Balthazar spoke up. “We need to go back.”
More silence. Painful silence. And then they slowly, wearily turned their camels around and retraced the hundred yards to the border.
The official leaned his head out the window of the hut. “Citizenship?” he asked, eyeing the trio with professional suspicion.