I once stood in Durham Cathedral and felt drawn to bow down upon my knees. The only problem was that I worried what other people might think of me. Walking around admiring the building, I blended in like all the other tourists. But bowing would make me stick out like a pious fool. In truth, I was already bowing to expectations, real and imagined, of people who were oblivious to my well-being. I was performing before an invisible audience, unable to worship the God who longed to set me free.
How striking is the freedom the wise men possessed in the face of intimidating circumstances. Upon entering Jerusalem, no mention is made of how mighty the city looks, how great are her buildings, or how holy is the temple. Instead the Magi ask: “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east, and we have come to worship him” (Matt 2:2, italics mine). Before Herod, no mention is made of any ambassadorial gifts or respectful bowing down. All of that is saved for a child.