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| Star of Bethlehem at the 1,000 year church, April 2017 |
It's said that the Star of
Bethlehem first appeared on the night of Christ's birth to guide the
Wise Men, whose journey was made complicated by their maps and charts,
to the child. When its work ended it burst into thousands of
brilliant fragments and fell to earth. Where it came to ground a
blanket of milk-white flowers grew.
Beautifully, I first discovered
the existence of this lovely flower amongst a tangle of primroses,
nettles, and almost-flowering bluebells, in the churchyard of the
1,000 year church where I while away many happy moments and discover
many wonders. You will know that you have found Star of Bethlehem
when you see a flower with six white petals surrounding six stamens,
each with a yellow anther. They bloom in the spring from early March
until late May or early June. The flowers open in the early morning
and are usually closed by noon revealing a beautiful green stripe on
their underside, hence some of their common names; sleepydick,
nap-at-noon, star-at-noon, johnny-go-to-bed-at-noon, and eleven
o'clock ladies. When the flowers have died a three-celled seed
capsule forms containing several black seeds.
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| Revealing their beautiful green stripes during a noon day nap (Image: Wiki Commons) |
Her
genus name, 'ornithogalum',
comes from the Greek words 'ornis' for 'bird'
and 'gala', meaning 'milk',
and was named and described by Dioscorides (40 to 90CE) in his 'De
Materia Medica' due to her abundance of white flowers that 'when
opened look a lot like milk'. It is less clear why Carl Linnaeus, in
his 'Species Plantarum' of 1753, names her 'dove's dung', although
under this name she may be mentioned in the Bible;
'And
there was a great famine in Samaria; and behold, they besieged it
until an ass’s head was sold for fourscore pieces of silver, and
the fourth part of a kab of dove’s dung for five pieces of silver.'
(2 Kings 6:25).
Whether the 'dove's dung' mentioned here is indeed
Star of Bethlehem is unclear, but she does have the other common
names of 'pigeon's dung' and 'sparrow's dung'. Alternative,
perhaps more obviously lovely, names for her are starflower,
summer snowflake, summer snowdrop, grass lily, and wonder flower.
As suggested by her 'grass lily' name, Star of Bethlehem is a member of the lily family, although she
is often mistaken for wild garlic, especially as her bulbs resemble
small onions. Her common name was once 'dog onion'. Although these
bulbs are harmless in small doses they contain the toxin,
colchichine, which has been used in gout medicine but can cause
shortness of breath in adults if too many are ingested. Nevertheless,
in the 15th Century she became associated with the journeys of
pilgrims to the Holy Land, both because they found her starry flowers
growing on the hills around Bethlehem and because her bulbs were
sometimes used by them as emergency rations when food was scarce.
Because of her association with Christ's birth she is one of the
plants often planted in 'Mary Gardens' and was taken to North America
by immigrants to be planted as a reminder of home. So wild has her
growth been there that she is now considered an 'invasive weed',
having escaped from gardens. There really is no containing a fallen
star.
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| Credit: E. Kolmhofer, H. Raab; Johannes Kepler-Observatory, Linz ~ hale bopp, Wiki Commons |
In herbal healing she is known as
the 'comforter' and is one of the plants used in Bach's Crisis Remedy
for the “after-effects of shock, such as caused by unexpected bad
news or any unexpected or unwelcome event. Also for shocks received
many years ago, even in childhood”; perhaps she does indeed carry a
spark of the perfect Christ child. Dr Edward Bach wrote of her in his
'The Twelve Healers and Other Remedies' that she was, “for those in
great distress under conditions which for a time produce great
unhappiness. The shock of serious news, the loss of someone dear, the
fright following and accident, and such like. For those who for a
time refuse to be consoled this remedy brings comfort.” Her
medicine is also said to be helpful for “the sense of emptiness and
loss that occurs when a loved one dies or moves away.” One
practitioner describes here as the 'Guardian of Grieving'. She has
been used in the treatment of those who are suffering from suicidal
depression, shock, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, offering a
light to lead the afflicted out of the darkness. Indeed, she does
that work for us all, blooming at the beginning of spring and
reminding us of the need to come into the light after the dark winter
months. She is the way-shower, a guide for the lost, just as she
guided the Wise Men through the vast silence of the desert. The
former Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, in his essay, 'The
Kingdom of the Simple' in the book of his collected sermons, 'Choose
Life', notes that the Wise Men were late in coming to the Christ
child, having undertaken a “laborious journey, taking sights and
calculating, where the shepherds ran barefoot.” It is so easy to
get lost, sometimes especially if we think ourselves 'wise'.
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| Harper's Magazine cover, Christmas 1898 (cropped), Wiki Commons |
When I learned about the meaning
of my new green companion I thought I might write about how touching
I found the image of the Star of Bethlehem shattering into fragments
and falling to earth as flowers. I saw her then as a symbol of it
being possible for us to follow diverse spiritual paths, whilst still
being part of one wild and beautiful truth. This felt so personal to
my own journey as I begin to again explore my childhood faith of
Christianity, having for so many years followed a Goddess-centred
path. The Goddess is very much still with me I hasten to add. If
anything my understanding of, connection to, and love for, Her has
only deepened through following this old-new thread.
But then the
world, or the one close to me at least, did seem to shatter into
thousands of pieces; the terrorist attacks in Manchester, and in
London at London Bridge and the Finsbury Park Mosque, the Grenfell
Tower fire; so many lost, so much needing to mend, and that is
without all that is unfolding in the rest of the world; in Syria, in
Yemen, South Sudan, Somalia. If the world isn't shattered into a
thousand sharp and ragged pieces then I have no doubt that many of us
feel that our hearts are. And it feels that it is to these shattered
hearts that Star of Bethlehem speaks,certainly we are badly in need of her comfort now. Much that is
transpiring seems to have religion at its core, and more specifically
the Abrahamic religions of the desert, together with the separation of
poor from rich, the 'simple' from the 'wise' (or perhaps the 'complicated'). So much separation. We have such a drive to
define ourselves by what, and who, we 'are not' and perhaps it is time for that way of being to end; not to lose our differences or our diversity; that's what makes us wonder-ful, but in understanding that differences of belief are no threat to our own; that we are all fragments of a Star of Wonder fallen to earth. In her myriad
mirrored fragments, her many white petals, her brilliance of being,
Star of Bethlehem reflects them all. There is no 'other', just broken
parts of one great beating heart. This is perhaps why she is
sometimes called the 'Reconciliation Star', the star of at-one-ment.
And it does feel that there is much to reconcile, and to atone for. But we are after all literally 'made of stars'. We are more wonderful than we could ever imagine. Let's seek out the stars in ourselves, and in one another, and mend.
I will end with a poem that came
as I sat down to write this. Because of recent events, and just because, I am trying to make connection with my local mosque, to offer solidarity in this difficult-to-be-different place, and tomorrow I am beginning training as a mediator for neighbours who are struggling with one another and for children who are lost in this spinning world we have created. I don't know where that will lead but I hope that Star of Bethlehem would be proud of my small offerings to the huge work of mending all that is shattered. I pray that she will be astounded by the work that we have done when she returns to open her milk-white petals next spring.
Star
of Bethlehem is tired
of
dragging around the baggage
that
we try to hide,
divisions
that won't be reconciled,
the
willful non-seeing of the so-called wise.
Wakes
bright with morning,
asleep
by noon,
offers
guidance with maps and tea;
pours
milk, leaves not bags, her best bone china
slips
from her exhausted hands,
smashes
into a thousand shards of stars
on
her kitchen floor,
reads
the auguries in their constellations.
Weeps
for the weight of what she sees
swept
under the carpet.
Star
of Bethlehem carries diversity
as
a prayer in her shopping bag,
walks
with Jah, Allah, Shekinah
wearing
goose feathers in her hair
in
the stews of the Liberty,
Keeps
a torch by the back door,
shines
a light on intruders ~
Guantanamo,
Yemen, Syria, the housing of the poor,
a
nail bomb on Electric Avenue,
knows
that she can't take much more.
No
amount of bleach in her bucket
will
make this pure,
No
amount of soap will scrub this whole,
And
her batteries are running out.
She
may have to brave the dark.
Star
of Bethlehem hangs her head in the churchyard
closes
in on herself at shadow fall,
offers
her flesh for the breaking of bread,
ties
her scarf more tightly round her head.
Tuber
or tumour, hate or hope.
The
murder of the innocents,
child
radicalised, drowned on the refugee boat,
finding belonging in the EDL,
bleeding
out in the stairwell in Peckham Rye.
Herod
turns his head, shuts his eyes,
she
opens her petals wide.
And
she is growing wild,
escaping
the confines of the flower bed.
Sinking
her roots into holy ground,
gathering
up the pieces that she let slip,
knows
it's time to get a grip.
She
weeps for mercy, grieves for grace,
what
we might have been, what we are.
Yet
still she loves the pilgrim soul in us,
the
spark that journeyed from the furthest star
and
fell to earth forged in fire.
She
puts the kettle on.
(Jacqueline Durban, 20th June 2017)
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| Star of Bethlehem at the 1,000 year church, April 2017 |
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