A Day Fit for Three Kings

In the imagination of Mexican children the event of Christmas is overshadowed by el Día de los Magos – the “Day of the Kings.”   The day, January 6, is called “Epiphany” in the church’s historic calendar (“epiphany” means “manifestation” or “revelation”) because on this day the light of Christ is said to have been revealed to the nations of the earth, represented by the three kings.  The day is important to Mexican children, though, for entirely more practical reasons – on this day, after twelve, long days of Christmas, they receive their gifts.

During my time in Calexico (from 1992 to 1996 I was the Pastor of the Calexico United Methodist Church) one woman, Maria Isabel Roacho, was determined to see that the church do justice to the Mexican traditions of the Día de los Magos.  The children of the church would have already received their gifts – al estilo norteamericano; in the North American style – but on the Sunday nearest the Epiphany, Maria Isabel would bring to church a shortbread called Rosca de reyes.  Buried somewhere within the bread was a tiny, plastic figurine of a baby, a reminder that the baby Jesus had to be hidden on the first Christmas.  Maria Isabel would cut the rosca with great fanfare, the cutting a reminder that Jesus was born in the most dangerous circumstances – after all, the dreaded King Herod was out to get him.

Maria Isabel was also very anxious that I learn the song that is traditionally sung as the Rosca de Reyes is being cut:

Ya vienen los Reyes Magos / caminito de Belén
olé, olé, Holanda y olé / Holanda ya se ve.
Cargaitos de jugetes / para el Niño de Belén
olé, olé, Holanda y olé / Holanda ya se ve.

Qué cargados van / los camellos rebozan jugetes
para el Rey de los cielos / que está en el portal.
Los camellos rebozan jugetes / para el Rey de los cielos
que está en el portal

The Wise Men are coming / on their way to Bethlehem
olé, olé, Holy land and olé / Holy land can be seen.
Carrying lots of toys / for the Child in Bethlehem
olé, olé, Holy land and olé / Holy land can be seen.

What a load they carry / the camels bearing all the toys
for the King of Heaven / that is in the portal.
The camels are loaded with toys / for the King of Heaven
who is in the portal.

The remaining verses of the song strike a curious note of peril – the baby is born thirsty and without so much as diapers.  It strikes me now that the historic song might almost have been written as a ballad for modern day immigrants trying to cross the Rio Grande into the state of Texas

Como el camino es tan largo / pide el Niño de beber / olé, olé Holanda y olé
Holanda ya se ve  / No pidas agua mi vida / no pidas agua mi vida
olé, olé Holanda y olé / Holanda ya se ve.

Que los ríos vienen turbios / y no se puede beber / olé, olé Holanda y olé
Holanda ya se ve / Dicen que nació / sin pañales ni ropa ninguna
y la misma luna sábanas de Dios / sin pañales ni ropa ninguna
y la misma luna sábanas de Dios.

 

Since the journey is too long / the Child asks for water
olé, olé, Holy land and olé / Holy land can be seen.

Don't ask for water my love / don't ask for water my dear
olé, olé, Holy land and olé / Holy land can be seen.

The rivers are turbid / and you can't drink its water
olé, olé, Holy land and olé / Holy land can be seen.

They say He was born / without diapers or cloths
but the moon is God's bed sheet.

God's bed sheets / without diapers or cloths
but the moon is God's bed sheet.

Maria Isabel’s commitment to the Día de los Reyes reflects a certain belief about the way the world actually works.  In North American celebrations of Christmas, the sense of danger is entirely absent.    Most celebrate Jesus’ birth without a hint of the prickly circumstances that give the Bible story such life.  For people living in the United States, Christmas is cute and cuddly, full of soft light and bright angels and gentle shepherds and humble kings and sleigh bells and Budweiser commercials … and it’s all so reassuring.  

As far as Maria Isabel was concerned, the whole point of the Christmas story is that the baby Jesus, imperiled from the very beginning of his life, is destined to survive.  The rivers may be turbid, food and water may be scarce, but the Holy Land is never far off, and the moon will provide cover superior to any earthly protection. 

For people like Maria Isabel, this is the good news of Christmas: God’s spirit of love can prevail in the face of a life filled with trouble.  And though the night may turn stormy, the spirit of fiesta can be shouted through the very teeth of the world’s most threatening winds – Ole!  Ole!