What was that star over Bethlehem?
Mystery remains, but the simplest explanation is the likeliest
Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem, saying, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.” When Herod the king heard this, he … summoned the wise men … and sent them to Bethlehem. … And behold, the star that they had seen when it rose went before them until it came to rest over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy. And going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshipped him.
Matthew 2:1-11, English Standard Version Bible
The Star of Bethlehem is a central symbol of the story of the birth of Christ. To appreciate just how appropriate a symbol it is, let’s consider the season. The Bible doesn’t say just when the birth took place. In the agrarian societies of the ancient world, festivals for great heroes and deities were often held at critical points in the solar calendar, usually at changes of seasons. Following the autumnal equinox, Sept. 21 to 23, the world became progressively darker and colder. The most difficult time of year was winter, when survival depended upon the success of the harvest.
Around the year 100, Pope (Saint) Clement proposed that Christmas be celebrated following the November harvest; his feast day is Nov. 23. But by 340 the date of Dec. 25 had been accepted by Western Christians. By this date it was apparent that the progressive darkening of the world had been reversed, the sun was prevailing.
It has been assumed that this date was chosen to counter the orgiastic Roman festival of Saturnalia; but it should be noted that the 25th was the birth date of Mithra, the Zoroastrian Sun god, widely worshipped throughout the ancient Near East. The Emperor Constantine, the great champion of Christianity, designated Jesus as Sol Verus, “The True Sun.”
So in the Christmas story we
have two clear symbols of hope at this dark and depressing time of year (and in this time of economic recession) — a baby and a bright light.
The story of how the star led three wealthy kings to humble themselves and embark on an arduous journey from a distant land to come and worship the baby Jesus has been universally inspirational for two millennia. But what was that star? Of the four canonical Gospels, only Matthew reports it, and in his narrative, only the Magi see it.
Was it a divine miracle that appeared only to the Magi, and was revealed only to Matthew, therefore part of “the mystery of faith,” not to be questioned? Or was it a cultural metaphor, whose meaning is revealed through earlier Hebrew texts? Or was it some real celestial phenomenon? Or was it an astrological event, discoverable only to those versed in this occult science? Over the centuries many theologians and scientists have pondered the meaning of the star, and in recent decades several scholars have declared they have the answer.
If the correct answer is the first of these options, then stop here; it is entirely a matter of faith, not subject to scientific scrutiny. But if we are willing to consider other explanations, there are at least three categories of them: cultural, astronomical and astrological.
In the classical world, a star was often emblematic of or metaphorical for a divine ruler; and this convention was set in Jewish tradition. Modern biblical scholarship recognizes that the prophecy of Balaam in the Book of Numbers (24:17), “There shall come a star out of Jacob,” foretells King David. But the Gospelers, especially Matthew and Luke, emphasize Jesus’ direct descent through the Davidic line, and it could be that the star in the birth story was thus inspired. The ascribed name of Simon Bar Kokhba, the messianic hero of the 2nd century CE who led a futile three-year rebellion against the Romans, meant “Son of the Star.” Understanding contemporary cultural meaning is critical.
Many astronomers have struggled to reconstruct maps of the ancient heavens and to locate some super-bright heavenly phenomenon, like a nova or a comet or a conjunction of several celestial bodies, that could explain the star. Wellregarded surveys of such attempts are Mark Kidger’s comprehensive “The Star of Bethlehem: An Astronomer’s View” and Sir Patrick Moore’s concise “The Star of Bethlehem.” Both conclude that the mystery will likely never be solved.
A laborious and ingenious investigation based on astrological premises is Michael Molnar’s “The Star of Bethlehem: The Legacy of the Magi.” Molnar’s book has been critiqued by others; we can simply note that after its detailed and carefully documented astrological investigations, it falls back on two unjustified assumptions: that the writer of the Gospel of Matthew was well-versed in astrology, and that Molnar’s particular conclusion about a star sign “reflects what might have been told to the evangelist.”
Such efforts are intriguing, but derive from erroneous reasoning. Like many other famous efforts to “explain” fantastic biblical events, such as the miracle of manna, or Moses’ parting of the Red Sea, or searches for evidence of the flood, or Noah’s Ark itself, they may employ sound science, but they are based on fundamentally flawed premises. They operate from modern premises of time, history and literacy, and ignore standard, universal elements and processes of myth and oral tradition that shaped accounts of the exploits of heroes in the classical world. And they remove specific elements of folklore from their total cultural contexts — most importantly from the context of faith — and analyze them under the assumption they are based in historical fact.
A good recent survey of astronomical and astrological explanations is Courtney Roberts’ “The Star of the Magi: The Mystery that Heralded the Coming of Christ.” She concludes that the meaning of the star remains a mystery, and that even Matthew didn’t understand it. But in her last page she refers us back to the Persians and their religion of Zoroastrianism, which “provide the entire underlying context.” I think she is right.
We cannot overstate the influence of the religion and culture of Persia on the development of Christianity. The greatest blow to Jewish tradition and culture was the Babylonian Exile under Nebuchadnezzar, begun in the 7th century BCE and culminating with the fall of Jerusalem in 586. The sack of Babylon by Cyrus the Great in 539 ended the exile. Cyrus aided the Jews in their return to Israel, contributed to rebuilding the temple and was hailed as a messiah. Persian culture became ennobled and exemplary in Israel.
New concepts of angels, the establishment of Satan in his horrible underworld realm where he commanded legions of evil spirits and the structure of the whole Apocalypse concept in Revelation — including the idea of 1,000-year cycles — were among the direct influences of Zoroastrianism. And Cyrus the King sought advice from a group of specially gifted people, the Magi, Median magicians, dream interpreters and astrologers.
God expressly forbade such practices to the Jews (Deuteronomy 18:9-13), and their knowledge of them was scant. But such occult abilities had always been appealing to the Jews, and now they were especially so; Cyrus was a good king, his kingdom was the largest the world had ever known and he was their special friend.
A fundamental principle of science says that the simplest explanation is the likeliest, and I think we have it: Matthew saw great value in having representatives of Cyrus, the greatest king in history, come and kneel before the new king. The Magi say, “We have seen his star in the east,” or “at its rising.” The “east” had great significance in classical cosmologies, as it does in many today; it signifies the sun’s rising, origin, birth and earthly and heavenly greatness.
The high god of Zoroastrianism was Ahura Mazda, or Ormazd, principle of Light — i. e., truth, honesty, openness; his military leader was Mithra, the Sun. The Magi’s eastern star represents Jesus who will outshine all others. Light is a frequent Gospel metaphor for Jesus. (In about 340, Constantine moved Christmas from late November to coincide with the winter solstice and to cancel out Mithra’s birthday on Dec. 25).
Throughout their history, the Hebrews had been exposed to various forms of divination by augury and reading of omens in nature, and they admired and were constantly tempted by such occult practices. They were frequently admonished by God and the prophets not to succumb to them; but nowhere in scriptures were such practices declared as false.
In the New Testament, only the Magi see the star. King Herod doesn’t see it. He learns with alarm of the Magi’s astrological predictions, and summons them “secretly” to ascertain “the exact time when the star had appeared,” as if he wanted to figure the astrological calculations for himself. But he can’t. He orders them to report back to him, but the Magi, true to their calling, interpret a dream and figure out what Herod is up to.
The Jews’ poor knowledge of, but respect for, astrology naturally led them to assume that stars actually behaved in bizarre ways for those who could “read” them. These considerations offer the best explanation for Matthew’s account of the star “leading” the Magi over their nearly 1,000- mile journey, and its stopping over the stable in Bethlehem.
