Following the Star

My wife Judy is very particular about her Christmas Nativity scenes. It was a very important ritual in her family while she was growing up. At the very beginning of the season of Advent, the nativity scene would be set up – Joseph and Mary, the shepherds, the animals milling about the stable, a brightly lit star hanging over it – but No baby Jesus. Jesus could not be put into the manger until the evening of December 24th. And definitely no wise men. In fact, the Magi were in the same room, but at the beginning of Advent, positioned far away from the stable. As they moved through December, every evening her parents would move the Magi closer and closer to the stable – now on the window ledge, now the top of the television, the bookshelf – on they would travel towards this imaginary Bethlehem, not reaching it until the day of Epiphany, January 6th, 12 days after the celebration of Christmas.

Judy tells me, as a child, it was so exciting to wake up every morning and see how far the Magi had travelled the previous night on their long journey to Bethlehem. And the star they journeyed toward – the star that guided the Magi - a dazzling star – mounted above the manger and made brilliant by the electric light bulb within it.

In the story of the magi, which is the correct Greek translation – we seem to have a different situation. When you carefully read the story of their pilgrimage in the Gospel of Matthew, it becomes apparent that much of their Christmas journey was made without benefit of the star. They saw the star in the East, shining with incredible brightness over their homeland, and they saw it again as they left the palace of King Herod. But in between, we don’t hear about the star - the great distance from where their journey began, to the few miles that marked the conclusion, it seems the magi may have been without the benefit of the star's guiding light. That’s why they stopped off at Herod's palace. The star had guided them in the general direction of the little nation of Israel, but then it seemed to desert them and leave them on their own. They went to the court of Herod, assuming his astrologers would be able to help them unravel the mystery of the star. And then, as they left Jerusalem, the star mysteriously appeared again. This time guiding them to the little stable in Bethlehem.

Isn't that the way it is with all of us? We have our moments of seeing and knowing, when the star of clarity and certainty goes before us ... and then nothing. Everything seems to go blank, the wondrous vision guiding us on our journey into the future, disappears. We thought we had life sewn up, nailed down, all the pieces of the puzzle in place; and then suddenly we wake up one morning ... and the guiding light is gone.

It can and does happen to everyone - whether we're a success or a failure in our job, whether we're thirty or eighty, whether we're on our first marriage or our fifth. We come to a point in time when a particular stage of our life is ending, a new phase of life needs to be born with its own values and vision and purpose, but in between is this period of chaos and confusion and desperation … a feeling of being lost …

The star has vanished, and we find ourselves in the dark.

The church I served in downtown Brampton, during the early 2000’s, was a big, old church – over a hundred and thirty years old. The basement of the church was this sprawling, convoluted dungeon.

One day I was down in that basement. I’d heard some strange noises and went to investigate.

Now, I knew the layout of this church basement. But suddenly, the basement was plunged into darkness. There was a power failure. And it was the kind of darkness where you can’t see your hand in front of your face, when you’re holding it just two inches away.

I thought I knew pretty well where in the basement I was standing, but it turned out, without the light I was completely lost and disoriented. Without the light, I couldn’t find my way out. I thought, I’m going to be stuck here in this basement until the lights come back on. Fortunately, that was only about 15 or 20 minutes later, because with the lights out … I was helpless.

Isn't life a little bit like that? From time to time we find ourselves in the dark. We’re lost and disoriented … helpless perhaps, even a little afraid, until we regain the light once more.

It was that way for the magi. They travelled from one sighting of the star to the next. They didn't see it all the time. For many miles they travelled with only the remembered glory of the star to comfort and lead them onward.

So what can we learn from those wise men, and that star we sometimes lose sight of?

First of all, we learn life is a journey. Life isn't rootedness and sameness and staying in one place. Many of the greatest writers have depicted life as a pilgrimage - a movement from one place to another. Life is a journey - a progression of heart and mind, of spirit and body. What we need and want today is different from yesterday ... and from tomorrow. A young adult looks for vocation and a marriage partner. A person in their thirties or forties strives for status and position. In our fifties and sixties, we try to leave a legacy of our lives in the world: How will I be remembered? And in our seventies and beyond, we wrestle with the ultimate meaning of life and our final destiny - of being able to let go of this world.

And even our life in the spirit is not usually a steady and unwavering climb towards God. One of the things I like to do when leading adult education seminars, is draw a graph - the length of our lives is marked out on the horizontal axis, and our feeling of closeness to God is indicated on the vertical axis. No one ever draws a straight upward climb of rising faith. Inevitably, the line flows with peaks and valleys, with highs and lows. Sometimes God feels so close, we could reach out and touch the face of the divine; and other times, God seems so distant and far away.

The scenery and meaning of life is always shifting and changing - the landscapes and the feeling always new and strange. We can't sit still in life. We can't finally get it just the way we like it, and expect we'll live out our days in that one place. Life springs loose and begins to unravel. We can no longer stay in that comfortable place, we need to dash off again into the darkness and find a new light, the next light ... a more meaningful way to live.

And if we're lucky, we can learn to enjoy the journey - not always postponing our happiness and satisfaction for some imagined time in the future, which may ... or may not ever come. And we can learn to be open to the beautiful experiences and scenery along the way. Life is the unexpected. Life is a gift. And those persons receive most, who are open to receive - not with our eyes tightly shut, our ears covered and our heels firmly planted against the forward momentum.

We will get little wrinkles around our eyes and the corners of our mouth. We'll find we can't run as fast or jump as high, or even be bothered to play the "competitive" little office games. The only real danger is trying to desperately hang on to the past, and in so doing, close ourselves off to the future - to new experiences and challenges we face with each passing day.

It was this way with the magi. They may have been quite comfortable and well off in their homeland, but the star appeared in their sky. And they packed up the camels and said their goodbyes, and rode off into the unknown. They were open and ready to be led by God. They knew, “life is an adventure,” and those see and experience most, who are open to follow, and discover new and uncharted pathways into the future.

The second thing we learn from the magi is this: In dark times, when the star is gone, it's time to exercise our faith. Faith is for the times on the journey when we can't see the star.

The writer of the letter to the Hebrews says: "faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."

Contrary to the pictures on the Christmas cards, the magi travelled long miles of their journey in the dark, without benefit of the glorious star. The star got them started on the journey, and it returned at the climax of the journey, but in between, over miles and miles of barren and often hostile terrain, it seemed to leave them. They had to journey onward in the direction the star had given them, but without being able to see it.

We spend a lot of our journeys in the dark. We see the star shining brightly over our future - a particular course or pathway to follow, and we start to move in that direction. We see it over a career choice, or a place to live, or a way of life to follow. We have this great moment of illumination, when everything is clear and we feel affirmed and confident in our decision ... but then the light gives way to great stretches of darkness, where we walk alone, with only the "memory" of the light to guide us.

Time and again throughout my ministry, people have come to talk with me about their sense of uncertainty and fear over the future - over the course they should follow. At that moment, they may feel surrounded with impenetrable darkness. Sometimes the person even wants me to tell him or her what to do. But that's not my job - only the person involved can make that decision. What I like to do is take the person back in time: "When was the last time you saw the star? In what direction was it leading you? … Keep on going that way until you see the star again ..”.

The star doesn't shine brightly all the time. When it doesn't, we must walk by faith - in memory of its past light and in the hope, it will shine again. We can't expect it to shine all the time. Even the disciples of Jesus, when he was crucified, lost their bearings in the darkness - confused and afraid. But the star rose again to lead them boldly and bravely into the future.

One last thing we learn from the magi: At the end of the journey is Christ. Like the star, he was at the beginning calling us into faith; and like the star, he will also be at the end.

Though the journey of life and of faith is often made in darkness, there is no question, the journey is well worth the effort. Along the way we'll experience new things, and grow in faith and love and hope, and in the end, discover a light we cannot now anticipate or imagine.

That's really the gospel, the "good news", in a nutshell. Christ at the beginning, and at the end, of all our struggles and doubts and fears. God at the end, ready to say, "You made it!" And God being there makes all the journey different. Knowing God is there we can endure our seasons of darkness and our times of pain. Knowing God's there, we can make it through the hardships. Knowing God’s there, we can survive even loss and death.

Is it possible, that's what faith is all about? God has been there all the time. Through all the darknesses and all the struggles, past all the pitfalls and pratfalls, and all the valleys ... God is there. And it's that knowledge which sustains all wise men ... and wise women, on their journeys to Bethlehem.