Return of the Cloth: An Easter Parable for All Seasons

By Louis A. Tartaglia M.D

Matthew 2:2 . . .
“Where is the newborn King of the Jews?
We have observed his star at its rising and have come to pay him homage.”

The two nomads pushed their camels eastward at a
grueling pace. They were running on a direct line
from a point east of Beersheba in the desert toward
the southern tip of the Dead Sea. It led directly away from a
mass of dark angry clouds in the distance. They could smell
the storm, though it hadn’t reached them yet.
The desert sometimes gave warning that a major storm
was brewing. In that sense it was kind. When the storm
hit, however, it would be cruel. Only camels were really
prepared to withstand it. Nature had provided them with
all the necessary equipment to survive. It was programmed
into their instincts. Living in the desert was part and parcel
of their being.

Nemir and Abdul, the two nomads, on the other hand,
were instinctively afraid. They wanted desperately to reach
the land of Moab on the southeastern shore of the Sea of Salt,
or the Dead Sea. There the mountains of Moab would protect
them. There were caves that they could use for shelter if they
could just move a little faster.

“Hey, Nemir!” yelled Abdul. “We need to hurry. This is
going to be a bad one.”
“My beast can’t go any faster.”
“You’re too fat, Nemir! Such a little short body, but so
much weight!” yelled Abdul.
Nemir reached back and touched the bolt of fine linen
that he was carrying. He thought about throwing it off his
camel to lighten the load. Then he thought that he better
not. The linen was not his. It belonged to the Magi they were
pursuing. It would be wrong to discard it. The linen must be
returned.

Abdul and Nemir both looked back and watched
anxiously. The storm was still building, but it seemed to
hesitate as though deciding whether to pursue them or not.
Their beasts marched forward unperturbed and confident.
They could only watch and hope.
“Do you think it has stopped?” asked Nemir.
“No. It is deciding when it wants to hit us,” said Abdul
with a laugh.
Sometimes a big storm would appear to stall. That was
the case now. It hadn’t really stopped. They were ascending
a rough mountainous terrain and could see much further
than usual. This made it easier for them to spot the far-off
clouds. As they got higher, they could see further. This storm
was so large that its presence was felt long before it struck,
giving the impression that it had stalled. It was coming, they
just didn’t know how big it really was.

They reached the southern tip of the Sea of Salt. Nemir
and Abdul both noticed the camel droppings indicating that
a caravan had passed this way. The droppings led to the
well-marked trade route toward the Southeast. They would

not descend down the steep grade that led to the Dead Sea
but were going to swing around and enter Moab. The terrain
became more barren as the elevation diminished. Going
down into the valley helped hide the tempest from their
view.

The storm was closer, but they still had time.
Up ahead, traveling at a slower, but nevertheless steady
pace, was the caravan of Magi. There were twelve Zoroastrian
princes in this caravan which was heading home after their
visit to the newborn king. They had fulfilled the prophecy of
the Oracle of Hystapes. They had delivered the gifts to the
special child foretold by the scrolls handed down from Sem,
the son of Noah. This had been a long trip for them and yet
it was only half over.

The Magi were from three different areas. Three were
considered kings. There was Gaspar from India, Balthasar,
who had come from Babylonia, Persia, and Melchior who
hailed from the southern tip of Arabia. Each of the kings
traveled with three other lesser Magi and an entourage of
assistants.

One of the Magi, the king named Gaspar, was said to
be a direct descendant of Sem. He was heading back to the
Indus Valley, to India, land of great riches and fragrant spice.
Gaspar’s life was fulfilled. He had carried out the main
task of his destiny to present gifts to the child king that was
foretold in the scrolls from the ark. Many years before, a party
of Zoroastrians traveling through the mountains near a peak
called Ararat were trapped in a storm. Disaster struck in the
form of an earthquake and landslide.

The scrolls had come

rumbling down with the debris from on high. It was said
that the ark was still on that peak. Gaspar’s ancestors had
read the scrolls and understood the Messiach Command.
It was a duty entrusted to the Zoroastrians to honor the
incarnation of God in the form of man. Gaspar’s family was
given custody of the scrolls. It was Gaspar’s duty to carry
out the command.

Not often does a man know that he has fulfilled his
destiny. Gaspar was grateful for that. He sat high and
majestic in his saddle, unperturbed by the storm that seemed
to pursue them. He recognized that all was part of God’s
unfolding plan, both the storm and the calm, the chaos and
the tranquility. He was filled with gratitude. Man’s obligation
and duty is to always and everywhere give thanks to God for
the present moment.

Gaspar had the longest journey home. It would take a
couple of months of travel. He was accustomed to long
journeys. They were a chance for him to contemplate and
study the heavens. Two other princes were traveling with
him. All of them were Magi or high priests in the order of
Zoroaster. They had accomplished their sacred mission of
the Messiach Command and were returning home.
Melchior, the youngest of the three Great Magi, was on a
camel next to Balthasar. His polished black skin glistened in
the twilight sun. His huge smile beamed as he listened to his
newfound mentor Balthasar.

The pair rode along side by side, calmly discussing the
unusual terrain. The Dead Sea’s water faded behind them. It
was a giant ocean of concentrated brine.
“Did you know, Melchior,” said the elder Magus, “that
there was once a powerful city on this side of the Dead Sea.”

Balthasar pointed to the eastern part of the sea.
“How could that be? As far as the eye can see there is
only water now,” said Melchior.
“Legend has it that this is the area of the great city of
Sodom.”
“And the sister city of Gomorrah?”
“Yes, Melchior. Have you heard tell of the story?”
“I have heard mention of it, but if you know the whole
story, would you be deigned to tell.”
Balthasar laughed at the compliment. They were equals
in status, but his age afforded him respect.
“Gentlemen, do you see the expanse of the Dead Sea off
in the distance?”
He turned in his saddle and swung his arm in a huge arc
indicating where he meant.

“Here was once a plain, flat and verdant, that extended
over this portion of the waters. Once there existed a beautiful,
but fatally corrupt city. Tonight, by the campfire I will tell
you the story of Sodom and its sister city Gomorrah.”
The other men smiled. They were delighted at the
prospect of listening to one of Balthasar’s stories. They
looked out over the expanse of dark blue water. It was so
placid and calm, seen from the hills where they were. The
terrain next to the Dead Sea was barren. No vegetation grew
there because of the salt in the soil. It gave a clean swept look
to the shores, more like the ocean than an inland sea.
“First we must continue to run from this storm and find
appropriate shelter,” said Gaspar. He turned in his saddle,
looking backward toward the dark clouds in the far-off
distance. They were heading for safety near the foothills of
the land of Moab.

Abdul, whose vision was sharp, was the first to spot
the caravan winding its way through distant countryside.
Because they were further east and sunset was approaching,
it was hard to make them out. Neither Nemir nor Abdul was
aware that the caravan had already spotted them highlighted
in the sunset where it broke through the tall columns of
clouds of the approaching storm.
Seeing the caravan gave the men incentive to continue
with their rapid pace. Riding on a camel that is moving
quickly isn’t as difficult as it seems. After a while staying on
comes naturally, but after a long ride a man was tired and
needed rest. These two would need rest when the caravan
stopped for the night. They had been left behind by the
caravan and had traveled a greater distance in less time.
They were both quite fatigued.
There was also a great incentive to travel together.
Neither rider relished the thought of traveling back to
Persia without the rest of the party. There were dangers in
the desert. There was safety in numbers. They pushed their
animals harder.

The caravan had just pulled over to make camp for the
evening. A camel driver hailed them and announced their
arrival to the group.
Gaspar was the first to speak to Nemir and Abdul when
they arrived.
“Were you able to get the two camels into the well?” he
asked, referring to Makhtesh Ramon. This was a large chalk
basin, miles wide, south of Beersheba in the desert. Legend

had it that the swirling receding waters of the great flood of
Noah formed the basin. Perhaps somewhere in the labyrinth
of chalk and stone was a drainage hole that led to hell.
“Yes, sir,” said Abdul. “I went into the basin with both
animals.”
“And you were able to leave without them following
you?” asked Gaspar.
“Yes. I tied the two beasts together so neither could climb
out on its own.”
“Actually,” said Nemir, “The older camel looked as
though she wanted to stay. She seemed to know that this was
what she was supposed to do.”
“Yes. It was the little one that seemed bent on getting
out of the basin,” said Abdul. “He was scared and tried
desperately to climb out.”
Melchior handed the reins of his camel to an assistant and
said, “But the little one was securely attached to the older?”
“Absolutely. There was no leaving for him without the
older letting him,” said Abdul.
“We watched for quite a while after he came back out of
the basin and took a route that enabled us to see them for
some time,” added Nemir. “They stayed there.”
“Good,” said Balthasar who noticed the bolt of linen still
attached to one of the saddles. He gave a questioning look to
the other Magi.
Melchior asked, “Why was the cloth removed from the
seat? Was it not to be given to the Holy Family for their use?”
“It was too large to allow the child to fit so I put the
Zoroastrian caps in its place,” replied Abdul as he handed
over the luxurious material.
“This belongs to the child,” said Balthasar.