The Hopes and Fears of All the Years: Day Thirteen
What About the Star?
“O morning stars, together / Proclaim the holy birth.”
- Phillips Brooks, O, Little Town of Bethlehem
Text: Matthew 2:1-12
Yesterday we looked at the likely inspiration for Matthew’s story of the visiting Magi who come to honor the Christ-child. As we saw, Isaiah 60 is probably the passage that sparked Matthew’s imagination for this story of these non-Jewish travelers who came bearing gifts. But what about the star?
I can remember being a small child and scanning the night sky on Christmas, wondering if any of the stars in my view could possibly be the star that led the Magi to the home of the Holy Family. As far back as the thirteenth century astronomers have tried to make sense of this phenomenon reported by the Magi. We know stars don’t move across the sky in the way this story depicts, so to what could this be referring? It’s been suggested that, perhaps, it was a comet or a super nova. Others have posited that it is a reference to a great conjunction of planets that would have given off a bright light in the night sky. There is a more likely explanation, however: It came not from the sky, but from Scripture.
There are two specific texts that likely lie beneath the “Star of Bethlehem.” The first, Isaiah 60:3, says, “Nations shall come to your light and kings to the brightness of your dawn.” From there it was a short trip for Matthew to have the Magi follow a star (and for early interpreters to call them “kings,” which Matthew never does). The second passage comes from Numbers 24, and it part of that strange story of Balaam and his talking donkey. Balaam had been commissioned by Balak, the king of Moab, one of Israel’s most despised enemies, to curse Israel. In the end, Balaam ended up prophesying several oracles of blessing on Israel:
I see him but not now;
I behold him but not near—
a star shall come out of Jacob,
and a scepter shall rise out of Israel;
it shall crush the foreheads of Moab
and the heads of all the Shethites.
Numbers 24:17, NRSVue
According to Balaam, someday a leader would emerge from Jacob (another name for Israel), and the image he used to symbolize that leader who would crush Israel’s enemies were those of a star and scepter. This symbol eventually took on a messianic significance. In fact, this imagery was central to the Second Jewish Revolt against Rome that began in 132 CE. The leader of the resistance was named Simon, but he was given the name Bar Kokhba by a Rabbi named Akiva, who proclaimed him to be the Messiah. Bar Kokhba means “Son of the Star,” a reference to this prophesy in Numbers 24.
So, for Matthew, the “Star of Bethlehem” is far more significant than just a early form of GPS. It was a symbol of Jesus as the Messiah, drawing the Nations to the God of Israel, just as the prophets imagined.1 However, this was supposed to happen in tandem with God destroying Israel’s enemies, like Moab. That’s where Jesus doesn’t fit the mold. Matthew spends the rest of his Gospel presenting Jesus as a Messiah who loves his enemies and experiences compassion for them. He doesn’t crush them, he feeds them. He doesn’t wound them, he heals them. He doesn’t seek to subjugate them, but offers the possibility of real liberation. The experience of Jesus—especially his unexpected (by them) death— caused many of his followers to reimagine what being the Messiah actually meant. The “Star of Bethlehem” is a hint, a foreshadowing clue very early in the story that invites us to see Jesus as a different kind of messianic figure. Much to the chagrin of some Christians throughout history (and even today), like Christian Nationalists, Jesus was not a warrior who slaughtered his enemies, but a compassionate healer who sought to bring a new world into being, right in the midst of the old.
That is the work to which Advent calls us, too.
Reflection:
What are some of the implications of this “star” symbolism for Matthew’s story of Jesus?
Why might some Christians gravitate toward images of Jesus as a warrior? What would Matthew say to them?