If you’ve attended a white elephant Christmas party, you probably went home with something pretty wacky or useless—or both. I know, for myself, I’ve received a number of goofy gifts at white elephant parties—from the “Pooping Pooches” wall calendar that had a monthly picture of a various dogs in that classic arched back, squatting position dropping a load in front of some incredibly scenic backdrop … to a carton of jalapeno flavored candy canes … to a framed picture of some random stranger with a Post-It note attached that said, "People say it's the thought that counts and I thought about your gift". Just for fun, I did a Google search for some of this year’s most popular white elephant gifts and I came across a couple I’d have liked to have given had I been invited to such an occasion: (1) a small paperback book entitled “How to Talk to Your Cat about Gun Safety”, and (2) a plastic container of cotton candy called “Trump Hair” that matches the color he dyes his hair and has the look of his locks. We could probably get a lot of interesting answers if we asked our friends, “What’s the goofiest white elephant gift you’ve ever received?”
Many of us have also had some pretty goofy gifts that weren’t white elephants—maybe those hand-knitted mittens from our grandmother that were absolutely hideous and didn’t come remotely close to fitting, or a bag of old ketchup packets from an assortment of fast-food restaurants (I have a friend who actually got those some years ago from his grandmother that was losing her mind). I heard about a pastor who got a Christmas gift from a lady in his congregation whose elevator didn’t go all the way up and it turned out to be the ashes of her dead cat—she’d had the animal cremated earlier that year and evidently thought he’d enjoy having the ashes around. But to my way of thinking—if you’re going to have a cat in the house, that’s the best kind to have!
In this series of posts I’m digging into the gifts the magi presented to the baby Jesus upon their arrival that is recorded in Matthew 2 … gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Gold honored Jesus as king and frankincense pointed to his priestly role. But myrrh, which I want to look at in this post, is a gift that’s a bit odd—maybe not bag-of-old-ketchup-packets or ashes-of-a-cremated-cat odd, but it’s one that’s somewhat peculiar nonetheless. But it’s perhaps the most stimulating and inspiring of the gifts Jesus received. For it shows us the depth of God’s love for us. It’s a gift that speaks prophetically to the primary purpose for which Jesus came to this planet.
What is myrrh? Most of us think it’s a plant or a perfume but, like frankincense, it was a resin extracted from a tree—the Commiphora tree, which was a low-lying, low-growing, small, thorny tree native to that part of the world. However unlike frankincense which had a sweeter, more citrus-like scent, myrrh’s aroma was more earthy and bitter.
It also had a variety of different uses in that day—in fact, the term appears seventeen times in the Old and New Testament. For one thing, it was used as a beauty product. In the book of Esther, before she was presented to the king, it says …
Before a young woman’s turn came to go into King Xerxes, she had to complete twelve months of beauty treatments prescribed for the women, six months with oil of myrrh and six with perfumes and cosmetics. (Esther 2:12).
If ladies were going to treat themselves to the ultimate spa experience of the day, myrrh would have been a part of the process. It was also an aromatic oil and fragrance. In the Song of Songs, the groom says to his fiancée as she is riding in towards him, Who is this coming up from the wilderness like a column of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and incense made from all the spices of the merchant? (Song of Songs 3:6). It also was an analgesic and painkiller. In the crucifixion account of Jesus, we’re told, Then they offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it. (Mark 15:23). When Jesus was on the cross and dying a most excruciating death, the Romans offered him wine mixed with myrrh to deaden the pain. And he refused to take it. It was as if Jesus saw the importance of feeling every single ounce of pain to where he refused to have it deadened. As the substitute taking on the sin of the world, he balked at the thought of being desensitized and having the pain numbed.
Myrrh also served as an antiseptic. In many parts of the world, it is used in mouthwashes and toothpastes because of the belief that it kills germs and helps prevent gum disease. But the one that’s most important and germane to the work and role of Jesus was its use as an embalming fluid. In John 19, as it describes the events that took place immediately after Jesus’ death, it speaks of Joseph of Arimathea appealing to Pilate for Jesus’ body. And it says in v. 39, He was accompanied by Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night. Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds. Decomposing bodies stink and, to mitigate the smell, myrrh and aloes were used to encase the body. So … it’s interesting that a substance that was associated with Jesus’ early life was also associated with the end of his natural life. That which was presented to him shortly after his birth was also used in the wake of his death.
While myrrh had an assortment of uses and range of applications, its primary association was with death and, in particular, sacrificial death. In fact, a scholar I recently read pointed to the story in Genesis 22 of Abraham offering his son Isaac as a sacrifice. That event took place at Mt. Moriah which has a common linguistic base with the word “myrrh”—the Hebrew word for myrrh is the word ‘mor’ and that’s part of the same word family as the place where Abraham almost sacrificed Isaac. So even though the magi were not Hebrews—they were from an undisclosed, distant part of the world—the presentation of that gift would have immediately indicated to Hebrews (the group to which Matthew’s gospel was primarily addressed) the idea of death and, in particular, the sacrificial death of a son at the hands of his father.
There’s a sense in which the magi gave Jesus an embalming substance—a gift we’d not deem fitting or appropriate for a newborn. I wonder if Mary or Joseph turned to the leader of the magi and said, “Oh, embalming fluid. How lovely. Thank you!” But at the same time, when the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary and informed her she was to be the birth mother of the Messiah, his words of instruction were that she was to “give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew. 1:21). As a good Jew, she’d have known there was no saving from sin apart from death—those two concepts were intrinsically connected.
Also, at eight days of age when Joseph and Mary took Jesus to the Temple and Simeon beheld the child and the Spirit of God revealed to him that this was the Messiah, his words to them were “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.” (Luke 2:34b-35). Mary had to know deep down inside that the shadow of death was lingering over Jesus’ life … that the silhouette of the cross was falling across his crib … that this child that she wrapped in swaddling clothes would one day be wrapped in burial linen because that was the crux of God’s plan.
It sounds a bit morbid and grim, but Jesus was the only person ever born with the distinct purpose of death. While all of us someday will die, Jesus was the only person that was ever born to die. And when he died, it wasn’t Plan B—a divine “oops”. God has never looked back on anything He orchestrated and said, “Oh, that wasn’t supposed to happen!” No! Jesus is, as the apostle John referred to him in Revelation 13:8, “The lamb slain from the foundation of the world.” And this is what sets Christianity apart from every other belief system. This is what differentiates it from Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, New Age mysticism and every other philosophy or worldview around—the sacrificial death of an innocent victim.
In the Old Testament, there was an annual observance called Passover—a ceremony set up to commemorate that time many years previously when, as the series of plagues designed to soften Pharoah’s heart and secure the Hebrews’ release from bondage in Egypt was coming to a close, the Lord executed his righteous judgment on the sins of mankind. What protected the Hebrews from incurring and falling prey to His judgment? The blood of an innocent lamb. On the night before the Lord was slated to execute his judgment, each Hebrew family was instructed to take a one-year-old lamb, kill it, cook it and eat the meat, and then take some of its blood and put it on the doorpost of their home—on top and both sides. Then death would pass over that house—the family would be spared and saved because of the blood of an innocent animal. I realize that sounds a bit weird, and it’s completely unfair to the animal. But yet, in that event, we see the cross of Jesus foreshadowed. With the blood of an innocent victim placed atop and along the sides of the doorpost, we see the instrument of torture on which the Lamb of God would one day shed his blood for the forgiveness of our sins hinted at. What separates us from every other world religion is a God who’d become flesh so he could be pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins, and beaten so we could be healed and become whole.
As I was thinking about this, my mind went back to a familiar passage of Scripture in Isaiah 53. But to understand its significance … imagine I had the power to predict the two teams that will be in the upcoming Super Bowl. If I got it right, you might be impressed or say I was really lucky. But if I could predict which team would win and by what score, you’d probably want to do something based upon that information if you’re a gambler. But if football is still popular 700 years from now and I could successfully predict the two teams in Super Bowl DCCLX (2726) and the final score of that game, that would make me … I don’t know that I have the right word for it. Point being—that’s essentially what the prophet Isaiah did in chapter 53. Some 700 years before Christ’s birth, he gave us a detailed account of the suffering Jesus would endure on our behalf. And as he explains the reason why it had to happen, he puts it this way: We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:6).
To say we are like sheep is not a particularly flattering or complimentary thing. If he’d have said we were like lions or eagles, that would have been a nice accolade—football teams are named after them. But sheep are not the brightest crayon on the box. They’re weak, they’re witless, and they’re wayward. Sheep are really defenseless animals. They don’t have a poisonous tongue or fangs they can sink into an aggressor. They don’t have quills they can shoot. They’re not fast and can’t fly. When attacked, they pretty much huddle up and say, “Take your pick—whichever one of us you want.” They’re also witless; they tend to thoughtlessly follow what the animal in front of them does. If one animal does some dumb sheep stuff, in all likelihood the others in the herd will do it too. And they’re wayward—they wander. They don’t track threats to where they can mindlessly drift into a situation that is hazardous or roam into a setting that is perilous and not safe for them.
So when the prophet Isaiah likened us to sheep, he wasn’t saying, “Wow! You’re guys are amazing!” He was saying, “You guys need a lot of help. You tend to get off God’s path and end up in some messes.” But in spite of this weak, witless, and wayward penchant on our part, Isaiah says “the Lord laid upon Jesus the iniquity of us all”—i.e., He became for us what the Passover Lamb was for the Hebrew families back in the day of their slavery in Egypt. He was the sacrificial provision that prevents us from experiencing the catastrophic effects of His righteous judgment on our sin.
Some of you look at this and naturally think, “That’s barbaric! That’s inhumane! What kind of a Father would give the life of his Son to be killed?” Let me answer that—a Father who loves us enough to redeem us the only way possible. And when we come to understand that, it messes with us in a wonderful way. That’s why it’s called the gospel; that’s why it’s good news! Jesus didn’t come just to teach or to heal—He came to redeem. The bitter yet soothing fragrance of myrrh reflects this paradox—that the beauty of salvation comes through the bitterness of suffering. It points to the truth that love comes at a cost and it’s through Christ’s wounds that we are made whole.
And it does something more. For those of us who’ve made a decision to align ourselves with Jesus—for those of us who’ve made a profession of faith and claim that He’s our Lord, Savior, and King—it reminds us that our following can’t be a hobby, or an add-on, or something that helps us feel good while we’re waiting to head over to grandma’s house and celebrate Santa. It reminds us the only appropriate response to Him is the surrender of our entire life—every aspect, every element, and every facet of who and what we are. For Jesus to have done this for us—for him to have been crushed for our iniquities, beaten so we could be whole, and slain so we could be healed—reminds us we don’t follow him because we have to, or because we hope it’ll make us a better person, or because it gives us something to do every now and then on Sundays. We follow Him because of our thankfulness, gratitude, and absolute sense of indebtedness for what He did for us.