Reflections from Dr. Sousan Abadian, IFC Executive Director
The day after Christmas invites a deeper remembering. Long after the Winter Solstice, after the Hanukkah lights, and after the Christmas star, the work of light continues—not as celebration alone, but as choice, practice, and shared responsibility. Across many faiths and cultures, light is not only something we mark on holy days; it is something we are asked to carry forward.
It is in this spirit that I return to a story I have always loved: the story of the Magi visiting the baby Jesus with gifts. As my dear friend and board member Father Don Rooney recently reminded me, it is among the earliest stories of interfaith encounter—a moment when Zoroastrian priest-scholars meet Jewish life and, through the Christian telling, recognize something sacred across traditions.
The story of the Magi appears only in the Gospel of Matthew. They were not “three kings,” but magoi—Zoroastrian priest-scholars from the Iranian world, custodians of one of the most ancient and respected wisdom traditions of the time. In the first century, theirs was the rival superpower to Rome, associated with authority, learning, and the careful reading of cosmic signs.
Matthew’s use of the Magi is a bold theological move. It says: this birth matters not only locally, but on a world-historical scale. The star is not decorative symbolism; in the ancient world, it signaled the arrival of a ruler or a turning point in history. When figures of such standing and authority take notice, their recognition carries real weight—affirming that this birth holds significance far beyond one people or place.
The story rang true when it was first told and written down just decades after Jesus because the visit of the Magi was deeply consistent with Zoroastrian ethics. Zoroastrian tradition has long affirmed freedom of conscience and the honoring of truth wherever it appears, without coercion or forced belief. The Magi’s reverence reflects this stance: they recognize what is sacred without needing to possess it, convert it, or erase their own path. Recognition here is an act of integrity, not surrender.
The story also does not ask Zoroastrians to disappear. The Magi do not convert. They recognize, offer reverence, and return home. This is not domination—it is wisdom greeting wisdom, truth and love honoring truth and love across boundaries.
This same spirit of shared moral agency echoes later in Jesus’ own words:
“Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works that I do—and will do greater things than these.” (John 14:12)
Read this way, Jesus’ teaching resonates deeply with Zarathushtra’s ancient vision of the Saoshyant. In its original meaning, Saoshyant was not a singular savior who arrives to replace human responsibility (as it was later interpreted), but a calling carried within humanity itself—“one who brings benefit,” one who helps make the world whole. It was only later, in subsequent interpretations, that the Saoshyant came to be understood as a single future figure.
In both teachings, the work of renewal is not deferred or delegated. Healing, justice, and light enter the world as people freely choose to embody them. And so the ancient reminder still whispers across traditions: the Messiah is among you—not set apart from humanity, but alive within it.
May this season invite us to recognize the light already present, to treat one another with reverence, and to honor the sacred wherever it appears.
With warm holiday wishes,
Sousan