In order to grasp the importance of the star, we need to understand two things about the ancient world. The first is the importance of stars. The ancients, particularly in the deserts of the Middle East and on the seas, did not have compasses like we do, or highway signs telling us “60 miles to Boston.” They were highly dependent on the fixed stars in the sky as references for their direction. They firmly believed that God had made them this way for that reason. Whenever anything happened in the sky that was new — like the appearance of a comet or meteor shower, or a planet or star shining more brightly — the ancients thought that it had to bear some message from God, the creator of the heavens and the earth. So they studied the heavens, because in studying the heavens they were seeking the message of God.
The second thing about the ancient world that we have to be aware of is that there were prophecies outside of Israel, from women called sybils, that heralded the future birth of a King in Israel who would be King of all. One of these sybilline prophecies predicted that the birth of the King would be preceded by a sign in the heavens. This was the context in which the Wise Men would have been looking into the heavens. When they saw the star at its rising, they not only interpreted it as God trying to communicate something to them in general, but that God was specifically heralding the birth of the newborn King in the East, who would be a universal King.
Led by the star, and their faith in its meaning, the Wise Men went on a journey toward the Holy Land. We don’t know how long their pilgrimage took, but the Gospel gives us indications that it wasn’t short. After Herod asked them the exact time of the appearance of the star, and then a short time later they did not return to him, he killed every boy in Bethlehem under two. So the time of their preparation and journey probably took 18-24 months. Yet they went. Whether they walked or had the help of animals, we don’t know. But they went on a journey of more than a year because they knew God was speaking to them through the star.
That they went to Jerusalem shouldn’t be a surprise. The distance between Bethlehem and Jerusalem is only six miles; as they were following the star, it’s very likely that they would have thought that the star was coming to rest on the important capital of the Jews rather than over a small village close by. Moreover, they probably thought that the newborn King of the Jews would be the son of the present king of the Jews, and so it’s logical that they would want to meet Herod. They received an audience and told Herod the story about why they had come so far to adore a child to whom God in the heavens was testifying by means of this star. Herod called all his experts around him and asked where this universal king was to be born. From the book of the prophet Micah, they told him that He was to be born in Bethlehem of Judea. Then something happened that we really shouldn’t miss: only the Wise Men left. None of the experts around Herod, who knew the Scriptures inside out, were curious enough to make the short journey, even though the Wise Men, who had already journeyed more than a thousand miles, left with zeal. Herod feigned an interest in seeing the child, but he was only trying to deceive the Magi so that he could kill Him; the experts seemed to have no fire to discover whether it might be true that the Messiah was only a short distance away.
What does this mean for us? Sometimes it’s those who travel great distances who are hungriest to continue the journey of faith. In Catholicism today, we’re buoyed by the incredible fire of so many converts from Protestantism, including so many Protestant ministers, several hundred of whom have come into the Church in the past decade. Even in the midst of several difficult years for the Church, they’re still coming. And many of them who do enter want to give their whole lives to God in service to His Church. In many ways, they’re the modern Wise Men.
On the other hand, many who have been Catholics for their whole lives can often act like Herod’s experts, pointing out the truths of the Bible or of the faith, but not really living the faith with a searching hunger for God. Chaplains at Catholic colleges and universities often note that some who know their faith very well can begin to think they “know it all,” that they’ve somehow “graduated” from the need to practice it, and stop practicing it altogether. Sometimes even priests, who have received a great education in the faith, can lose their piety — and their people obviously suffer.
But for this analogy to hold, we have to ask where the star pointing out Christ’s presence is still burning. Obviously God is not calling us to walk for 18-24 months to Palestine, but He does call us to follow the indicators of His Son’s presence. The star continues to burn in several places, of which I’ll mention three.
The first is in the red flame of the tabernacle lamp. The burning star of Bethlehem pointed and attracted to the presence of the Son of God. The burning tabernacle lamp points to the presence of that same Jesus. The question we need to ask ourselves this great feast day is how zealously we follow that star. The Wise Men traveled for months at great sacrifice to go and adore the Lord. How much are we willing to do to go to Mass or to go to adore Him in the Blessed Sacrament?
The second place the star continues to burn is in the light of the confessional, which heralds the presence of Christ acting through the ministry of one of His chosen priests in the sacrament of God’s mercy. Christ is truly present there, doing what He came from heaven to be born and die for: the forgiveness of sins. We sing the reality of Christ’s forgiveness in so many of our beautiful Christmas hymns:
Hark! the herald angels sing:
“Glory to the newborn king.”
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled.O holy Child of Bethlehem,
Descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin and enter in,
Be born in us today.
But, again, we have to ask ourselves how well we’re following that star.
A third place the star burns — or at least is supposed to burn — is in each of us. On the day of our baptisms, our godfathers lit our baptismal candles from the Easter candle, which is the symbol of Christ, the Light of the World. We were instructed by the priest who baptized us in Christ’s name to “keep that light burning brightly.” We’re called to reflect Christ’s light so that others in seeing this light might go to Christ, its source. We are supposed to be stars — drawing others toward the presence of Christ within us through grace, drawing others to follow our footsteps to the Eucharist, to the confessional, to the faith. But the question is: Are we still burning with the light and the warmth of that rising star?
Father Roger J. Landry was ordained a Catholic priest of the Diocese of Fall River, Massachusetts, by Bishop Sean O'Malley, OFM Cap. in 1999. After receiving a biology degree from Harvard College, Fr. Landry studied for the priesthood in Maryland, Toronto, and for several years in Rome. After his priestly ordination, Father returned to Rome to complete graduate work in Moral Theology and Bioethics at the John Paul II Institute for Marriage and Family. A popular speaker on the thought of Pope John Paul II and on apologetics, he is presently parochial vicar at St. Francis Xavier Church in Hyannis, MA.
This article was adapted from one of his recent homilies.
