Star of wonder, star of light

Last night my mum and I attended T.C.  Bird Planetarium’s The Star of Bethlehem program.

We sat there as the lights dimmed, the “sky” turned dark, and the stars appeared. With Christmas music playing softly in the background, the narrator began with a single verse: Where is he who has been born King of the Jews? For we saw his star in the east and have come to worship him. {Matthew 2:2}

Thankfully, save the starlight, the room was enshrouded in black. You’d be hard pressed to see your own hand in front of your face, let alone the tears streaming down that of your neighbors. By the time we took a tour of the heavens, learned the latest advancements in space exploration, and got back to the story at hand–including theories for the star that led the three wise men–I was fully recovered. 

I even learned a thing or two. Mainly, yet again, we tend to get it all wrong. 

Ever notice how the star plays a significant role in our story? On the playbill, it’s right up there with Mary and Joseph. He’s a handsome light–a blinding light, seen by all. In reality, the magi are the only ones who recorded seeing such a star. 

I guess we just can’t help but add a bit of pageantry to the birth of Jesus; but that’s not the way God tends to work, is it?  While he does, indeed, work wonders–he does so without pomp; he simply meets us where we are. 

So it was with the star–it was simply a means to show three men the way. As the narrator reminded us, whether that star was a supernatural phenomenon seen by few or scientific happening visible to all, is quite beside the point. All that truly matters is it was fashioned by the same hand.

All that truly matters is that the magi looked up, and followed the path set before them.

Oh, that the same might be said of us . . .