Stars
Isaiah 60: 1-6; Ephesians 3: 2-3A, 5-6; Matthew 2: 1-12)
One of the things I love about Christmas stories, whether they’re the ones from the Gospel, or other traditional stories told over time, is that each tells of a journey that leads to the manger. There in that cold stable full of animals is Jesus, come into the world. And all around him is the world in miniature. Creation is there in the animals and the angels and the stars; all people are there in the rich Magi and the poor shepherds, the Jews and the Gentiles. In this backwater town, behind the inn where no one would go on a cold night, God has come.
I love Christmas stories, and I particularly love the story we hear in today’s gospel, the story of the Magi. The gospel presents how, in the persons of the Magi, the rest of the world can see the star and come to the manger. The story of the Magi reminds of us three things:
First, that God is present in the world. That’s what Christmas is all about. More than in creation, although God's handiwork is seen there, God came into the world in Jesus. He is Emmanuel – God with us. Like the Magi, we need to look, to be aware, to listen to the signs of his presence.
Second, that each of us has a gift to bring to Bethlehem. The magi gave gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. But we too have a gift to bring Jesus, each and every one of us. We are a gathering of God’s gifted people. The gift God gives to each of us is the gift we in turn bring to Bethlehem, to be shared with him and with each other.
And thirdly, that if we follow the light in our lives, all of our journeys will lead to Jesus. Our lives are a journey with many turns in the road. Many times we feel as though we’re going in the wrong direction, or we find ourselves going through the painful process of deciding which way to go. But if we seek God’s presence in our lives and in his Will for our lives, then all our journeys will lead us to Jesus.
But there’s a fourth lesson in the story of the Magi . . . perhaps not as evident . . . perhaps ignored because of its implications. And perhaps that lesson is best learned by telling you another story – the story of Michael. No, not Michael the Archangel, but Michael the Littlest Angel.
Michael is “four years, six months, five day, seven hours, and forty-two minutes of age” when he presents himself to the Venerable Gatekeeper for admittance into the Glorious Kingdom of Heaven. But Michael feels out of place in heaven. He’s more accustomed to simply being a boy than being an angel, and because of this, heaven is never quite the same because of the mischief and antics of the Littlest Angel—his ear-splitting whistling is heard at all hours, he sings off-key in the heavenly choir, and his halo is just so tarnished and keeps falling off and rolling down the golden streets. And to top it off, he’s always biting his wingtips! Eventually, his mischief lands him in trouble and he has to report to an Angel of the Peace.
Expecting to be disciplined, he trudges off to his fate, but when he comes to the home of the Angel of the Peace, he finds a kindly elderly angel known as the Understanding Angel. Eventually, the Understanding Angel discovers that the Littlest Angel is just homesick for his mother and father back on Earth. He takes Michael under his wing—literally, and asks what might help him feel less homesick. The little angel tells the older angel that hidden under his bed back on earth is a box that contains all his earthly treasures: a butterfly with golden wings, a little piece of a hollow log, two shiny stones from a river bank, and the worn out strap of his faithful dog. If he could just have that box, he would feel so much better. So, the older angel allows Michael to return to earth to retrieve the box and bring it to heaven. Well, it just so happens that at about that time, heaven is all abuzz because they are preparing for the birth of the Christ Child on Earth, and all the angels are preparing magnificent gifts for the Holy Child. After much agonizing, the Littlest Angel decides to give the baby Jesus his box of treasures.
He places the box on the pile of gifts, but when he sees how magnificent all the other gifts are, he begins to cry, thinking his gift is unworthy. Running to the pile of gifts, he tries to reach the little treasure box before it’s seen by God. But before he can, God reaches down and picks it up. The Littlest Angel hides his head in shame and begins to sob. Trying to run, he trips and falls at the very foot of the heavenly throne. God opens the box, looks at its contents, smiles, closes the box, and speaks: “My children, you please me. Never have the heavens seen such splendor. Your gifts will delight my Son. You have done well. There is one gift though, that stands alone and apart from all the others. Though he would seek to hide it from me, he cannot. It is the gift of our Littlest Angel. Its contents, so dear to this tiny soul, are the miracles of earth and men. And my Son is to be born King of both. These things He too will know and love and cherish . . . and regretfully leave behind when His task on earth is done. This box shall rise and span the heavens until it comes to rest and shines its light over a stable in Bethlehem, where this night Jesus is to be born of Mary. And it is to be hoped that the light from this star will be reflected forever in the hearts of mankind; mankind, whose earthly eyes, blinded by its splendor, will never know that the gift of the Littlest Angel is what they will call the shining Star of Bethlehem.”
Like Michael’s box, which really represents Michael himself, we are called to be stars – stars to others, stars for others - guiding, helping, giving signs, warning and shining light to people in their journey to Christ. We are each other’s stars, shining God’s glory on each other. We are each other’s compass, guidance, strength, joy and hope. We shine the light of Jesus Christ who came two thousand years ago and is still shinning so forcefully.
We can be stars through our words: kind, consoling, and encouraging; words that shed light and love, words that have power and influence.
We can be stars through our actions . . . sometimes reaching out, sometimes giving, sometimes praying, sometimes just being there . . . always living a lifestyle that draws people to Jesus Christ.
We can be stars through our witness: We must stand up for Christ and gospel values. It’s important that our words and actions square up with what we believe. But sometimes we must go beyond just our example to tell others specifically about what God or Jesus mean to us, sharing our faith, expressing the truth and the joy we have in being Christians, sharing the word of God to them.
As we begin a new year, the very first gospel we hear challenges us to be a star, a star which provides a light that illumines others’ minds, warms their hearts, pierces their souls; a star that offers a direction – a direction that leads to Jesus; a star that lights the path others travel each day as they search for meaning in their lives; a star that offers a light out of loneliness and destructive patterns, toward new life.
We are called to be a star that guides others to the stable and illumines the face of the Child who still offers hope to the world.
We are called to be a star that guides others to the towns and cities of Galilee and Judea to hear the words of the One who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life shining brilliantly in us.
We are called to be a star that leads others to the cross to experience a love and a mercy so strong that it has forever destroyed sin and death and has replaced it with reconciliation, redemption and life.
And we are called to be a star that beckons our families, our friends, our neighbors, our co-workers, and perhaps even total strangers, forward - like the Wise Men in today’s gospel - to go a different way than the well-trod path of the world that leads to selfishness, self-centeredness, and self-indulgence; in a new direction of selflessness, compassion, mercy, humility, love and service.
In his book, The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote, “All men have stars, but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems.”
Which kind do you want to be?
