I’m told that one of my paternal grandmother’s favorite Christmas carols was O Beautiful Star of Bethlehem. It was also a favorite of my mom. Why did they like it so much? That’s a question I’ve added to my file of things it’s too late to ask since both have passed.
In any case, it’s become somewhat customary to sing it at family Christmas gatherings, and has become one of my favorite carols, but not only for sentimental reasons.
It is not a song of saccharine platitudes. It is a song of pilgrimage, of wandering and searching, of hope yet unfulfilled. It’s a song of seeking and finding a speck of light in the encompassing darkness, and leaving comforts behind to follow it, knowing that light in the darkness is a precious thing.
There is risk in such a journey. There are unknowns. Where you’ll end up is uncertain. For the wise men, a baby in a manger, born to nobodies in the middle of nowhere hardly seems like it could have been what they had in mind. Were they content or disappointed? Another question too late to ask.
But a life of seeking, of learning and growing, can’t be a stationary life – you can’t do those things if you’re committed to staying where you are. You can only travel so far if you mean to return the same place every night.
Wandering and seeking are deeply characteristic of my own religious/spiritual/philosophical journey. I’ve gone places I never could have imagined going, places I once thought heretical to go. The travel has rarely been clear, straight, or read off a map (though the odd note left by other travelers is always nice). Some places have been uncomfortable and disorienting, but I’ve yet to find such places not worth visiting.
Other places have been nice, safe, comfortable. But my personality is such that I don’t have a lot of patience for languishing in one place for too long. ‘Finding’ feels so…final. Limiting. Presumptuous. I guess the star I’m following hasn’t stopped yet.
Feel free to leave a comment about your favorite carol.
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