Guiding Stars and Miraculous Lamps

Martha Hodges - 2005-12-25

Guiding Stars and Miraculous Lamps
December 25, 2005

Ours is a religion whose principle symbol -- indeed, our only widely shared symbol -- is light, in the form of the flaming chalice. In our use of light as a symbol of truth, hope and inspiration, we resemble the Zoarastrians of ancient Persia, those worshipers of fire. In fact, scholars of the Bible who have decoded the story of the “wise men” who followed the star to the birthplace of Jesus tell us that these wise men, or magi, were in fact priest kings of ancient Persia. They were most likely Zoarastrian priests whose special power was to divine the fate of kings and nations from studying the stars. They were astrologers. In ancient times, astrology encompassed both the science of astronomy and the divination we associate with modern-day astrology.

Modern astronomers and historians suggest that the star described in the Gospel of Matthew may have been none other than Jupiter, which in the year 3 BCE moved into conjunction with Regalus, known as the star of kings. At that time, this unusually bright combination of stars was found within the constellation of Leo, the lion and symbol of the Jewish tribe of Judah. These coincidences were taken as confirmation of the ancient Jewish prophecy that the Messiah would be born of the house of Judah, in Bethlehem.

So this may be the rational explanation of the story of the star and the wise men who followed it. But what of its meaning to us?

And what is the meaning of Hanukkah to us, this war tale of tribal rebellion and victory?

Both stories tell of the triumph of the weak and oppressed over the mighty. The practice of astrology was forbidden to the ancient Hebrews. Astrology placed confidence in the movement of the heavens rather than in the will of God. So the adoration of the magi of the Jewish child born without pomp in the poorest of circumstances, is significant. The old ways must submit to the superior power of the truth. This message was reinforced when, by the 6th century, the story of the three magi had become the story of the three kings. Secular powers, as well as ancient ways, must bow to newly found truths.

By the same token, the Hellenistic rulers of the Jews were defeated -- both militarily and religiously, as the holy lamps of the temple affirmed the rededication of this place of worship.

Whether, as Unitarian Universalists, we come from Jewish or Christian backgrounds, or neither, we may look on these tales of triumph over the secular with skepticism. Do we really consider ourselves the righteous few who will defeat the powers of darkness that surround us? I hope we don’t. There is among us this rather unattractive strain of self-righteousness, to be sure, but it hardly something to celebrate on this day.

But what of the light? The temple menorah, the star of Bethlehem -- these are, more than anything else, the fires of the soul, seeking expression. They represent the human quest for illumination -- our search for truth and justice. These ancient fires represent to us the power of hope that will not die. They are lights that guide us on our way and defeat those other powers of darkness, the darkness we carry within.

And these lights -- the menorah, the star, and the chalice, are beacons to the world. They are not secret, hidden, revealed only to the privileged few. They beckon to the world. They say, follow me. They call us to rise and follow our aspirations, our visions of who we might become. And they also call us to share our message of love and hope, even as the menorah commands its people to be a light unto nations and the star invites us -- compels us -- to follow it to its source.

Our ancestral stories of light -- light that guides, light that illuminates the dark, light that beckons us onward -- our stories of light find a home within us even today. Today, this Christmas, this Hanukkah, may we answer the call of these powerful symbols. May we bring our own lights, blazing and strong or flickering or peaceful and steady -- may we add our own precious lights of understanding, hope and aspiration to this world -- this world that stumbles and shivers in the dark. May we light the way for someone else, may we light the way for ourselves, may we light the way for the future.

We close with this rabbinical tale:

It happened in the time of Rabbi Akiva that he was walking near the gates of the old city of Jerusalem. The wise sage saw an old man carrying a lantern. He hobbled slowly and carefully as he trudged along. But as the old man passed, the rabbi saw that the old man with the lantern was the blind man of the town.

So the rabbi approached him and said to him, "Old man, you are blind. You cannot benefit from the lantern. Why do you carry one so carefully? Why a light for one who cannot perceive it?"

"Ah," said the blindman, "but you can see the light. And with that light you can tell me if there are pitfalls in my way. In that light there is a benefit for me. You can use it to do the good deed of 'loving kindness' in helping one less fortunate than yourself."

The light of the spirit of the human spirit glows bright. May this season of lights bring you all health happiness and joy. And may the light of the season bring you and all of us peace.

(story adapted from UUA REACH "Stories for the Season")