Charles Ellicott Commentary Matthew 2

In the days of Herod the king — Herod’s death took place in the year of Rome 750 A.U.C., just before the Passover. This year coincided with what would be 4 BC in our common chronology. We must therefore recognize that our standard calculation is incorrect and place the date of the Nativity at 5 or 4 BC.

No facts recorded in either St. Matthew or St. Luke shed much light on the season of Christ’s birth. The flocks and shepherds in the open field suggest spring rather than winter. The traditional date of December 25th was not kept as a festival in the East until the time of Chrysostom; it was then accepted as resting on the tradition of the Roman Church. It has been conjectured, with some probability, that this date was chosen to substitute the purified joy of a Christian festival for the license of the Saturnalia, which was celebrated at that season.

The wise men probably arrived (we can say no more with certainty) after the Presentation in the Temple mentioned in Luke 2:22. The star’s appearance coincided with the birth. The journey from any part of the region vaguely called “the East” would have taken at least several weeks.

Wise men from the east — The Greek word is Magi. This name appears in Jeremiah 39:3 and 39:13 in the title Rab-Mag, meaning “the chief of the Magi.” Herodotus speaks of them as a priestly caste of the Medes, known as interpreters of dreams (I. 101, 120).

Among the Greeks, the word was often applied with scorn to impostors who claimed supernatural knowledge. Indeed, magic was the art of the Magi, and the term was commonly used this way throughout the Roman world when the New Testament was written; for example, Simon Magus is “Simon the sorcerer.”

However, alongside this negative use, there was also a recognition of the higher ideas the word could represent. We can hardly think that the Gospel writer would have used it in its lower, derogatory sense. For him, as for Plato, the Magi were considered observers of the heavens and students of the secrets of nature.

We cannot tell where these wise men came from. The name was too widespread at the time to point with certainty to its original home in Persia, and that country was north, rather than east, of Palestine. The practice of watching the heavens, implied in the narrative, belonged more to Chaldea than to Persia.

The popular legends—that they were three in number, that they were kings, that they represented the three great races of the sons of Noah, and that they were named Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthasar—are simply apocryphal additions. These traditions likely originated in dramatic representations and were perpetuated by Christian art.

Where is he ...? — The Magi express a sentiment that, according to the Roman historians Tacitus and Suetonius writing sixty or seventy years later, had been widespread for a long time. Throughout the East, people were anticipating the arrival of a great king who would arise from among the Jews. This expectation was partly based on Messianic prophecies like Isaiah 9:11 and the later predictions in Daniel 7.

This idea had taken root in the minds of many, both Gentiles and Jews. It would have led them to welcome Jesus as the Christ if He had come in a way that matched their expectations. However, He came in a way they did not expect, shattering their worldly hopes, and so they did not receive Him.

We have seen his star in the east — Here again, we encounter questions we cannot fully answer. Was the star a natural phenomenon, as Kepler conjectured—a conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn appearing as a single, exceptionally bright star? Or was it supernatural, visible to everyone, or only to the Magi? Astronomy challenges the first view, showing that even at their closest, the planets were separated by a distance equal to the moon's apparent diameter. The latter hypothesis introduces an additional miracle with no basis in Scripture. We must be content to remain in ignorance on this point.

We know too little about the astrology of that period to determine precisely which star might have been seen as the herald of a great king by those who watched the heavens. Any star, such as the one associated with the birth of Caesar, could acquire a new significance according to the established rules of their art. Stories—not necessarily legends—about the appearance of such stars also surrounded the births of Alexander the Great and Mithridates, as well as Caesar. Balaam's prophecy about the Star that was to rise out of Jacob (Numbers 24:17) implied that such an association of ideas already existed and helped to perpetuate it. As late as the reign of Hadrian, the rebel leader of the Jewish insurrection took the name Bar-Kokhba, meaning “Son of a Star.”

While we should not build too much on uncertain details, we can at least be confident that the “wise men” were Gentiles. They do not ask for “our king” but for “the king of the Jews.” And yet, though they were Gentiles, they shared in the Messianic hopes of the Jewish people. They came to worship—that is, to pay homage—as subjects to the newborn King. They were watchers of the signs of the heavens. When they saw what they interpreted as the sign that the King had come, they undertook a long journey. This journey would have taken four months if they came from Babylon , and even longer if they came from Persia. They were perhaps partly guided by the star's position, though this is not stated. They would have naturally made their way to Jerusalem, confident they would hear news of the Jewish King there.

Herod the king—When the Magi reached Jerusalem, the atmosphere was thick with fear and rumors. The old king, whose title had been given by the Roman Senate in 40 B.C., was nearing the end of his long and blood-stained reign.

Two years earlier, on a charge of treason, he had executed his two sons by Mariamne, his most beloved wife. He acted out of sheer jealousy for the favor the people showed them. At the time this history opens, his eldest son, Antipater, was also under condemnation.

Several factors contributed to the unrest before the Magi even arrived. The priests and the people were eagerly looking for the “consolation of Israel” (Luke 2:25, 38), and whispers were spreading that this consolation had finally come. Furthermore, the people felt uneasy about the “taxing” that Herod had been forced to accept. All these things turned the last days of the Idumean prince—for his subjects never forgot his foreign origin—into a time of frenzied and cruel suspicion.

This excitement naturally spread throughout the entire city.

The chief priests and scribes — The chief priests were likely the heads of the twenty-four courses into which the sons of Aaron were divided (2 Chronicles 23:8; Luke 1:5), though the term may have also included those who had held the office of high priest, even if only for a time. The “scribes” were interpreters of the Law, casuists, and collectors of the traditions of the elders; for the most part, they were Pharisees.

This meeting was not necessarily a formal session of the Sanhedrin, or Great Council, but may have been only a committee of notable leaders called together for a special purpose. With characteristic subtlety, as if trying to gauge the strength of their Messianic hopes, Herod acted as if he himself shared them. He then asked where the Christ—the expected Messiah, the “anointed” of the Lord (Psalms 2:2; Psalms 45:7; Psalms 89:20)—was to be born.

In Bethlehem of Judea — The words of the people in John 7:42 show the same belief thirty years later. The Targum, or Jewish paraphrase, of Micah 5:2, inserts the very words, “Out of you the Messiah shall come.”