Navigating by the Stars
Thoughts on the season of January
If December is the month of heightened anticipation, then January is dull and depressing, all grey skies and incessant rain, at least in my part of the world. There’s no celebration to look forward to, no comforting traditions or break from the routine to make these winter days more bearable. My neighbours have taken down their Christmas lights and I miss their friendliness and warmth. I miss that small flicker of hope glinting in the darkness now they are gone.
The first month of the year always feels like a bit of a trick, like a promise that doesn’t quite ring true. We make much of the longest night of the year being past, and yet there doesn’t seem to be any perceptible change in the amount of daylight yet. It’s still dark when my husband comes home from work and still dark when he leaves in the morning. I’m still closing the curtains at 4.30pm and still longing for sleep by 8pm, as though it were the middle of the night. What’s more, in January we’ve stepped across the threshold of a new year, with all it’s promise of new beginnings and fresh starts. It’s supposed to be ‘new year, new me,’ and yet it all feels a bit ‘same old, same old.’ We’re mostly either still waiting for the changes we long for and need, or still living with situations we didn’t ask for and don’t want.
It's in this context that the liturgical calendar draws our attention to story of the Magi, who came from the east, following a star they knew would lead them to the baby Jesus. The church calls this Epiphany, which means revelation, appearance, insight or enlightenment. It seems strange, this tale of affixing such meaning to a star. Of course, people have navigated by the stars for centuries, but can you imaging looking up at the sky and even noticing a new star, let alone understanding that it means a new king has been born and that you should take your finest treasure to worship him?
I think about the Magi looking up at the sky for guidance and reassurance that they were on the right path. I wonder if they had doubts or questions. I wonder what happened on cloudy nights. I wonder whether they lost sight of their star and had to re-find it, recentre themselves, remind themselves of where they were going and why. I think about how necessary the darkness was to their journey. After all, if you’re navigating by the stars, you have to travel at night.
I used to think that revelation was a Big Deal – a defining moment, a huge flare of light that would change everything in an instant. Maybe it still is that sometimes. But what if enlightenment mostly comes more slowly than that? What if insight appears one small star at a time, each small light joining up with the previous ones to create a shape we can discern, a constellation we can find our way by, a guiding pattern that calls us forward with hope and comfort and peace?
In this January season that is slow to bring change, perhaps the appearance of something new will emerge gradually, like the snowdrops that are beginning to poke up from beneath the earth. Perhaps it’s okay that change happens gently, allowing us to reorient ourselves one small step at time to new ways of being. Perhaps we still need the dark for now, so it’s easier for us to navigate by the stars that show up faithfully each night to lead us to the place we truly belong.
A lovely article, thank you!