The most puzzling astronomical event associated with Christmas is undoubtedly the star the Magi followed to Bethlehem in the Biblical book of Matthew.
“Behold, there came wise men from the east from Jerusalem, saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the east and are come to worship him.”
The Christmas star appears only in Matthew. In that regard, Matthew targets his gospel generally, and the Magi story specifically toward a primarily Jewish or Jewish Christian audience.
Other gospels are aimed at radically different readers. Mark, for example, takes the time to explain Jewish customs and rituals to a non-Jewish Roman audience.
On the other hand, Matthew tries to show that Yeshua’s presence on Earth fulfills Biblical prophecy.
In that regard, Matthew reassures his audience that Yeshua’s teachings are grounded firmly in Jewish law. Matthew is the only gospel arguing that Yeshua’s purpose is “not to abolish the law, but to fulfill it” (Matthew 5:17).
Matthew quotes directly or alludes to Old Testament prophecy almost 100 times. Often, his main goal seems to be to establish Yeshua as the long-awaited Messiah. That connection is nowhere more evident than in the story of the Christmas Star.
The “Magi” who spoke the lines in Matthew were probably astrologers. They studied the positions of those special “stars” we now call planets among the constellations of other stars. In the changing shape of the night, they saw great signs and portents. In this case, they saw the saving grace of a great spiritual leader and had come to give him homage.
Over the years, scholars have proposed that the Christmas star was a bright meteor, a comet, an exploding star called a supernova, the planet Uranus long before astronomers identified it as a planet, and even non-astronomical, atmospheric events like St. Elmo’s fire and ball lightning.
The most common explanation, a close planetary alignment, was first suggested by Johannes Kepler in the early 17th century. By coincidence or design, a spectacular close alignment of three planets occurred in the spring of 6 BCE, one of the years often given for the birth of Yeshua, as his parents would have pronounced his name.
Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn formed a tight triangle throughout late winter. Jupiter and Mars passed within a hair’s breadth of each other in the early evening on what we would now call March 4. (More on calendar conundrums next week.)
Those planets gathered in the constellation Pisces, the sign of the Fish. To ancient astrologers, Pisces had always been a constellation representing regal power and authority.
They saw the saving grace of a great spiritual leader and had come to give him homage. Thus, it is perhaps not happenstance that Yeshua chose fishers among his first disciples.
Early Christians believed that the rise of a kingly messiah associated with a star fulfilled several prophetic pronouncements, including Numbers 24:17: “There shall come a Star out of Jacob, and a Scepter shall rise out of Israel.”
The star’s inexplicable behavior compounds the mystery: “Lo, the star which they had seen in the East went before them, till it came to rest over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.”
No natural phenomenon, star or otherwise, behaves that way. Perhaps Matthew made up the story to impress his audience with astronomical or astrological evidence of the child’s messianic mission.
Or perhaps the star is a profound and wondrous miracle. This writer is supremely unqualified to make such a determination. For that, you must look into your own heart.
Instead, let us take our text from Psalm 19: “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth His handiwork.” Whether you celebrated Christmas, Chanukah, Dong Zhi, Pancha Ganapati, Yuletide, Kwanzaa, Festivus, the Solstice, or nothing at all, know this:
The vault of heaven shines brightly this time of year. To see it with a pure and open spirit is to realize that the universe is vast beyond measure and beautiful beyond words. From the glow of a single star to the enormity of a galaxy, from the cold reaches of space to the warm depths of your heart, the universe is saturated in splendor.
Tom Burns is the former director of the Perkins Observatory in Delaware.
