Legend of the Star-Cross
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| The Star of Bethlehem Fresco by Giotto di Bondone, the Scrovegni Chapel, Padua, Italy |
There once was a little star, a four-pointed boy named Philanthrophel, who shone in the great expanse before the throne of God in the High North. He sang soprano in the boy’s choir of heaven, with a voice that was shrill and pure breath the high gothic arches of the heavenly spire, because his voice had not yet changed to the cosmic bass of a ten thousand-year-old star. He sang beautifully and with great joy whenever God would call the angels in for meetings, and the congregation of hosts would all clap their wings when he sang his highest notes. He didn’t quite understand the words of the song he was singing, since it had something to do with “making all things new” or something or other, but he was a young little star, and he couldn’t be bothered to learn deep things like the meaning of this complicated song. What he did know was that God had given him a gift, so he would shine as bright as he could when it came time for his solo, and he would feel all warm inside to hear the applause of the angels for his performance.
One day, the music director, an angel named Gabriel, came to the little star and told him, “God wants you to go and stand over the little city of Bethlehem, to proclaim the coming birth of His son to all who see you!” The little star was overjoyed at the task, and immediately packed his bags to go and live in a new place in the Heavens, not far above the earth. He was honored to have such a great opportunity to show his talent. “Maybe”, Philanthrophel thought, “God likes my singing so much that he wanted to give this special job to me.” When he arrived, he realized that he was close enough to see, hear, and smell all the interesting things that were going on in the world below him. “This is going to be fun”, he thought to himself, “What a wonderful thing to be given a place in the sky where I can watch the interesting lives of the people below!”
The little star took his shining seriously, making sure to show his bright lights to all the people who looked up at the night sky. Most people went to bed at night and didn’t look much at him, but he did notice that far away, there was a group of men with high-pointed turbans and silken robes who studied the night sky and often pointed in his direction. One night, the little star noticed that these men were riding camels and pointing at him all night. It seemed that they inched a little closer each night, and before long, the little star realized that these men were coming closer… they were following the star! “I have fans!” thought the little star to himself. These would be his first human friends!
Philanthrophel was so happy! He was doing the job that God had given him to do. He was supposed to lead the way to the place where God’s son would be born. He had met Jesus before in Heaven, and it was hard to imagine that the Prince of Heaven would be born in Bethlehem, but he would certainly be a cute baby. He couldn’t wait to see the story play out beneath him. He had the best seats in the house.
Every night, the little star would find his three traveling friends, and he would beckon to them with his silvery beams, glowing brightly so that the men could easily see him and come see the baby who would be born in Bethlehem.
One day, a bunch of fallen stars came loitering around Philathrophel’s post, and started to make fun of him. “Look at you!” they jeered, “Looking all important as you stand over Bethlehem!” “Yeah”, another one mocked, “Don’t you know nothing ever happens in Bethlehem! They are so boring there! Nothing like how cool Jerusalem is!” Philanthrophel was struck with pangs of insecurity, and tried to ignore the irritating boys, but he knew that they were right, nothing much ever did happen in Bethlehem. “You really are pathetic!” another little fallen star said. “You are nothing like us falling stars!” Philanthrophel could not stand it anymore, he replied, “God told me to stand here and do this important work because I have a gift, He loves to hear me sing!” The other boys laughed and said, “Ooh! Look whose all high and mighty! I you want to prove you’re cool, you’ll come to the Jerusalem circus with us!” The little star heard this and couldn’t help being excited. He loved the circus! “But I have to stay here! This is the job God gave me!” The other boys laughed again. “How long have you been standing here?” Philanthrophel tried to count in his head. It had been a long time. “At least three years,” the little star said. “Wow! That’s forever!” The other boys looked amazed and little Phil felt really good about himself. “Well, one night won’t matter then. Come with us and you can be back here tomorrow to do the job God gave you to do.” The little star had to think about this. It was only one night. Not a big deal. Jerusalem was close, too, so if he needed to come back, he was just a hop, skip, and a jump away. “Okay”, Philanthrophel said, “I’ll come with you boys, but just for one night.”
Meanwhile, the three friends that had been traveling for so many years to reach the star were almost to Bethlehem when they noticed that the star was moving to the North. Afraid that they might lose their marker, they raced their camels forward towards the stars position, and came close to the walls of Jerusalem by midnight. They set up camp for the night, confident that they had finally found the city where the King of Heaven was to be born.
The boys had a great time watching the Roman circus as the acrobats flipped and tumbled, and as lions roared, elephants performed, and the gladiators fought each other with their pitchforks and swords. For some reason, Phil felt nervous about being away from his post. A cold chill went down his spine when he saw a governor in a white Roman robe and laurel leaves take his place at the best seat, and when he applauded the gladiator’s fight… it was clear by the way he jeered and shouted for the loser’s death that he was not a nice man at all. “Oh, I’ll just watch for a little while, and then I’ll go back and stand where God told me to stand”, the little star thought to himself, and then went back to watching the circus.
The little star fell asleep in the sky as he watched the circus into the early morning. He didn’t mean to, and he always reminded himself that he needed to go back to Bethlehem, but he just couldn’t leave before the circus was over. There were so many good acts, and so much excitement. After three years of watching shepherds heard sheep, this was unbelievable!
As Philanthrophel slept, his three friends from the East were trying to find the king that they had come to find. Unable to find him on their own, they went to the house of the governor and asked him if he knew where to find the child. “What?” the governor said, “I know of no king!” But because he was afraid that someone might know something that he didn’t, he asked the scribes and priests to come and tell them where such a person might be born. “In Bethlehem of Judea” came the reply, and the violent old governor was struck with fear. Then he had a sneaky plan. “You go and find the child and worship him,” he said, “and then come back and tell me who he is, so that I can go and worship him too.” He knew that if they found the baby, then it would be easy for him to destroy the child.
When Phil woke up he was shocked that so much time had past. He quickly rubbed the slumber out of his eyes and quickly flew back to his place over Bethlehem. “It will be okay,” he told himself. “No one will even notice that I’m gone!”
That night he saw his three friends from the East coming into the city, and he saw the angels from heaven come and give the good news of Jesus’ birth to the shepherds in their fields. “Whew!” Philanthrophel though, “I am glad I didn’t leave today, or else I would have missed the whole thing!”
Phil sang with the angels to announce the birth of the child, and took special delight in singing the high notes…. “La, la, la, LOOO” What? Where did that deep note come from? Then Phil realized, during the time he was watching over Bethlehem, he had turned one thousand! His voice was changing!
Philanthrophel sang and sang, rejoicing as he watched the miracle of the ages play out before his very eyes. He laughed and cried. This was so much better than the circus! He saw the shepherds come and worship the baby, and then watched as they went and told everyone what they saw. He watched as the three friends from the East found the child and gave him three valuable gifts. Wow, this was a great show, so meaningful and so real! And the music, the music was full of awesome dynamics that he had never heard before. God’s best singers all came down from heaven to sing to the world, and to make sure that the beautiful baby Jesus would have lullabies to help him stay fast asleep.
As the night ended, Phil watched as the story came to an end, and the shepherds and Wise Men went to bed after a night of excitement. “Wow!” the little angle thought to himself, “That was the most spectacular night ever!” He got ready to sleep as the morning broke, and whispered a quiet prayer of thanks to God for sending his Son to earth as a baby, although he could not imagine how such a thing could even be true. “Thanks God, for letting me see a show tonight that was better than the circus!”
The next night, as Philanthrophel packed his bags to return to his home in the space before the throne, he heard cries coming from the city. He had to stop a moment and think. “Why were there cries of pain coming from the city that had been shouting for joy last night?” As he looked down into the streets, he could see the same soldiers that had been laughing at the circus gladiators a few nights before going from house to house and taking the babies out of the hands of their crying mothers.
What happened next to the babies was unthinkable to the little star. He stared in disbelief at the evil these men perpetrated on their own kind. His heart filled with rage and he shouted, “What is happening? Why are these bad men doing this?” Phil was beyond himself with anger. “Quick,” he shouted towards the heavens above him with all the authority he could muster, “Angels come and save baby Jesus!” No angels came, and all the angels that had been in the sky last night, so many that it seemed the space just over Bethlehem had turned into a brilliant Milky Way, were all gone. “Quick! Somebody help!” The little star dove down onto the city streets to try to stop the atrocity, but he was too small, a little ball of glowing light moving from house to house in a panicked zi-zag. The soldiers just brushed him aside and yelled “Pesky firefly”, when he tried to stop them.
Hearing the babies and their mothers' cry, Philanthrophel cried too! “Why, oh why did these bad men come to take these babies away from their mothers?” The little star sat on a street corner of Bethlehem as all the soldiers left the town with the babies, and cried to himself. He had seen these babies born over the last three years, and he loved every one of them. He had seen them learn to talk, learn to walk, cut teeth, play with bugs, kiss their daddies, and learn to do all the things that babies should learn to do. He was full of grief and could barely stand it, and then, all of a sudden, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see the kind face of Gabriel beside him. “What just happened? Why did they take the babies away? Did they take Jesus too?” Philanthrophel asked. “No, I told Jesus’ earthly father to take Jesus to Egypt, and they left right before Herod’s men arrived. Herod was the man you saw the other day at the circus calling for the death of the men playing with swords.” Phil looked down, ashamed. “So you saw me, did you?” Gabriel looked knowingly down at the little star. “Yes, I saw you leave Bethlehem.” “So why did these men come here and take the babies?” the little star asked again. “Because your friends from the east watched you go to Jerusalem the other night and followed you. And, then, Herod met with them and found out that the king was to be born here. So, you see, they came because you left your post.”
Philanthrophel was so upset. How could this be? How could one little visit to the circus cause so much pain and suffering? Why did he not listen to his conscience and stay at his post? Why didn’t he reject what those other boys had said about him? Why was what they thought about him so important anyway?
Phil had to go back to Heaven with Gabriel, and he had a lot of time after that to think about the mistake that he made. He realized that his disobedience had caused a lot of pain and sorrow for other people, and he felt bad that he hadn’t been disciplined for his wrong decision. So, one day, when the angels were meeting before God’s throne, the little angel went and asked if he could have an audience before God Himself. They didn’t really want to let him, at first, but when they saw how serious he was about it, they finally relented.
When Philanthrophel came before God, he was really nervous. He knew what he was about to ask God to do was extremely hard to do, and he knew that God might just tell him that it was impossible and that he should forget the whole thing… but he had to ask, because his conscience would not leave him alone, and he always felt bad about causing all the pain and suffering of Bethlehem through his disobedience.
“O Great Creator,” the little star shook as he said these words, “You know that I failed to keep Your Word and be faithful to the task You gave to me in Bethlehem, and You know that I deserve to be punished for what I did. As my punishment for causing such pain and sorrow, could you turn me into something that could be of service to Jesus?” God’s glory shone from His throne, and Philanthrophel could feel Him smile in the beams of unfathomable light. He smiled a sad kind of smile that tells children that an older person is disappointed, or is thinking about something that happened when the older person was a child himself. “My little star, I knew that you would fail, but I let you take the post anyway. Everything in this universe of Mine needs redemption, including you, and that is why My Son had to go to earth to be born. The work He will do will make it possible for all sins to be forgiven and for the fallen world to finally cooperate with my will and find salvation in a relationship with Me. All you must do is obey in Him.” And then He stopped, and a short time transpired before He started to speak again. “But, that time has not arrived, and I still have a plan for you. You must learn to grow, and you must find my purpose in suffering. I will give you another job, this time one that will not allow you to wander, and you will learn how death will bring about eternal life. This assignment will take you eleven times longer for you to complete, and in doing it, you will learn why no amount of apology or penitence can ever truly repay your sins, but that you must simply trust, repent and continue to follow my word. Only by faithfully following the baby you saw being born can you be saved. I will send you to the earth to become the greatest tool My Son will use to finish His work, and in the process, you can learn about redemption and its meaning.”
Then, in a breath, in a flash, in a twinkling of an eye, the little star was not standing in the throne room of heaven, but stood on a hill outside of Jerusalem, looking over the sea of olive trees that sprung up around the city out of the stony ground. Phil tried to move, but he discovered that he was stuck to the earth. He tried to look at his feet, but only saw a brown stick, sticking up out of the ground. He tried to wave his hands, but all he saw was green leaves. What happened? Then the little star realized the stunning reality - he was a tree! “Why would God make me into a tree?” he thought to himself. But there was no angelic explanation.
Over the next 33 years, Philanthrophel grew into a beautiful tree whose shape recalled his four-pointed form in the sky. He grew to love the sensation of the seasons, the hot sun falling on his head, the warm earth around his feet, the deep waters that he inched towards with his toes. He forgot that he had once been a star. He delighted in the year he bore olives for the first time. He was so proud of himself. Birds came and built a nest in his hair, and he lulled the baby birds to sleep with the gentle waving of his branches. His leaves grew round and full, and his delight became to praise his Creator in his heart as the sun and moon, stars and clouds swirled around him. He grew to love being a tree, and the fact that he could not move no longer bothered him. When the circus came to nearby Jerusalem, he could hear its music, but he did not wish to see it… “Why would people waste their time to go see that racket”, he would think to himself, “when they can stand in awe of all that He has made and pray.” There was more music in the sky for Philanthrophel than when he was singing it. He had learned the beauty of a quiet heart and constant prayer.
One day, a man came to the forest where Philanthrophel grew, and the man closely eyed the tree’s strong, cruciform shape. He called out to his son below, who was carrying some tools, “This tree will do, and we won’t even have to add a crossbeam! He’s the perfect shape!” Phil didn’t know what the man meant until the two of them started to hack away at his base. The axes fell quickly, and the tree’s silent screams could not be heard by anyone but himself. “No! Don’t cut me down! It hurts! Stop! I like being here!” In his pain he forgot the deal he had made with God so long before, and he screamed, “I haven’t done anything to deserve this! Not me! Cut down the other trees, but not me!”
The tree’s voice could not be heard, and he was quickly reduced to a frame of “X” shaped wood, his branches shorn of their lovely green leaves, and his tall head cut away from his delicate upper branches. The man and his son took their tree down the mountain, the first time Philanthrophel moved in 33 years, and put him into a donkey cart to be carted into the city.
Roman soldiers greeted the man and his son and handed them a few coins, and then they pulled Phil off of the cart and stood him against the city wall. The little tree trembled with a sudden recognition of the men… they were the men who had killed the children so many years ago. Yes, it was them! They dressed in the same helmets and red capes. Theses were the men whom he had tried to stop so long before. All of a sudden, Philanthrophel remembered what happened so many years ago, when he was just a little star; he had disobeyed God’s command and led the Wise Men to the Romans instead of to Bethlehem.
In the midst of these thoughts, Phil heard shouts and jeers, like the circus so long ago, but this time louder and coarser. He saw the soldiers beating a man with whips and staves, and laughing at the man when he was too weak to stand. They placed a robe on his wounded back and put a crown of thorns on his head, and then mocked him as “The King of the Jews” while they were spitting on him.
There was something familiar about the man. Philanthrophel couldn’t quite remember it. As he watched the kind man’s face, and heard his voice in response to his attackers, Phil felt that he had heard that same voice and had seen that face somewhere before. “Could it be?” No! That was the voice of the Prince of Heaven that he had heard so many years before, declaring the creation of the Universe so many years before. It was the voice that had commanded the waters to part, and the voice that had commanded the dry land to appear. It was the voice that declared the will of God from before the throne so many infinite eons ago. “No, it could not be the Prince of Heaven! No one would dare touch the Prince! If they knew that it was Him they would fall to the ground in terror and beg for forgiveness before He called down the armies of the outer heavens, tens of trillions of mighty warriors who could reduce the earth to ashes with one swipe of their flaming swords!” But there he was, Philanthrophel could see for him, being beaten and abused, and not cursing or threatening in return.
After the men had finished torturing the man, they walked over to Philanthrophel, and making the Prince of Heaven stand in excruciating pain, they placed the tree on to his back. Philanthrophel cried out even more than he had when he was being cut down. The pain of the Prince was unbearable as the tree was placed on to his back, and Phil could not believe that he was adding to this pain. He feared that any moment he would cease to exist, because the Prince could extinguish him with a thought. He wailed in his dissent at torturing the one that he had been sent to celebrate so many years before. This was the baby that he had seen born in Bethlehem thirty-three years ago. This was the child that he pointed to as the light of the world. This was the song he had sung in praise with the angelic choir with such gladness.
Jesus groaned under the great weight of the tree. His precious blood began to drip to the ground, one drop at a time, as he pulled the cross on the way out of the city. The Prince carried Philanthrophel up the mountain with great strain, and the tree could feel that his weight was somehow the weight of all the children that had been slain for his error, who had died in innocence because of Philanthrophel’s love of the circus. The Prince of Heaven tried with all his might to shoulder the load, but his blood was pouring on the ground and being sucked into Philanthrophel’s deep grain, and he stumbled. Some people rushed to help him, but the soldiers kicked them away and made the Prince stand up and try again. They mocked him, and prodded him, and whipped him as he shook to stand and once again shouldered the load. As the cross thought of all the sin that he represented, his own evil actions of disobedience and complacence, his bad habits and self-satisfaction, his weight seemed to grow. The little tree felt the blackness of his heart and remembered all the forgotten sins of pride and disobedience that had grown over, like scars on a tree, hidden in the rings of bark that had passed in the seasons. He realized that this man was being punished with his error, his disobedience. He was torturing the Prince of Heaven!
The tree began to weep. His sap oozed out and mingled with Christ’s blood, but no amount of crying could make it any better. The tree shuddered, but he was still just as heavy as before, and Jesus stumbled more to lift his load up the mountainside. Finally with one last effort, Christ tried to shoulder the massive wooden cross, but his energy gave out and he was completely crushed by the tree. For one agonizing moment, Philanthrophel lie on top of Jesus, and felt his weight pushing the life out of this small human form who was also God.
Then, the cruel soldiers picked the load off of him, only to roughly push Him on to the tree and begin to nail his hands to the tree. Jesus moaned in the pain of the nails being pushed through his hands and feet. Philanthrophel’s sides were seared with splitting pain as the nails were pounded through Christ’s hands and into his body. The pain did not stop, and the Prince heaved for breath in the midst of the torture, pulling the nails that were imbedded deep into Phil’s sides. He could feel the God-Man’s blood pouring down his rough wooden body, he could feel the tremors of the God-Man’s failing muscles, he could feel the God-Man’s wounded flesh cleaving to his splintered sides… he could hear what the man said in a whisper, and feel the crown of thorns scratching his face as the God-Man struggled to keep his head up. “Father forgive them…” Phil heard as the Prince struggled to stay alive for just a moment longer, “For they do not know what they are doing.” And, then, it was over.
The Prince of Heaven was dead.
Philanthrophel silently screamed a long howl of terror. He screamed at the sky. He screamed to be heard in the Heavens. “O Father God! Why did you allow me kill your Son! You sent him to earth to be king, and I have killed him, even though I did not want to! I did not know that my errors would lead to this! The weight of my sin was more than I knew! Why didn’t you kill me instead? I am worthy to be burnt forever!”
The earth shook, the heavens darkened, and the thunder rolled. Then all was quiet. God the Father did not answer him, and no angels appeared to comfort him as before. He was utterly alone with the body of the dead God-man nailed to his chest.
They came and took the Prince away, and the cross stood for three lonely, numb days on the hill outside of Jerusalem. He no longer delighted in the sun or wind. All he could feel was the blood that covered him, strangely warm, strangely life-giving, the blood of the Heavenly Lamb offered up in a horrible sacrifice. All he could feel was the searing question in his heart. “Why?” Philanthrophel could feel the life seeping out of himself as his sap slowing evaporated in the blazing sun. He felt hallow, and his wood was loosing its green tinge. He soon would follow the Prince of Heaven into oblivion. He knew he would die soon without water, but the holy blood sustained him and was slowly transforming him somehow, but the pain and heaviness remained, and throbbed in his little tree heart.
On the morning of the third day, Philanthrophel was lost in a dehydrated stupor or grief and shame. He could no longer feel his arms or legs. He was completely detached from the wood of his body, and he could barely see the world outside. In the early morning mist, the tree could feel a strange sensation of the earth trembling beneath him, as if a giant bird was flapping its wings beneath the mountain. There was a strange light in the earth beneath him, but he could not make out its form, only feel its glow as it surfaced into the tomb at the foot at the mountain. Philanthrophel’s eyes were clouded, but he thought he could see the forms of billions of angels shine through the early light, swirling above in the dome of the Heavens, and he thought he could hear the shrieks of countless demons as they scurried to hide under rocks and behind trees, like little black rats and monkeys. Then he saw the form of a glowing man come out of the tomb. His face shone brighter than the sun that the little tree knew the God-man had created.
“He’s alive!” Philanthrophel’s weak heart leapt for joy! “The Prince has triumphed!” The angels began to chant in the heavens above. “Praise the Creator of the Worlds! Praise the Champion Over Sin and Death! Praise the God Who Became Man so that Man Could be Made One with God!” the familiar voice of Gabriel sounded out through the darkness, like a trumpet. Jesus stood outside of his tomb, beaming with a light that grew brighter than any dawn. Jesus raised his head to look into the Heavens and to see the bright light of the Father’s pleasure radiating down upon him. He lifted his hands and shouted with a booming voice that deafened the stillness and could be heard in the hearts of every living creature in the universe, “I have broken the chains of death! I have paid the price of sin! I have redeemed my creation! I have reconciled mankind to God! I have made all things new!”
The tree heard this voice and rejoiced. He knew what it meant. He could feel the weight of his disobedience fall away from his heart and he could feel the warmth of Christ’s light completely penetrate him inside. He knew that he had a purpose, that God allowed him the freedom to make his mistakes so that he could repent and glorify God. Philanthrophel felt complete and joyful, even though he knew that his time was limited, as he felt the life seeping from him in the dry air and sun of the late morning. “My life was worth it”, he thought, “to see the salvation of the world through the victory of the Prince of Heaven.”
In his last few hours of consciousness, the tree saw Jesus’ disciples come and search the tomb. He saw Mary Magdalene’s joy as Jesus showed himself to her. He saw the joy and disbelief of the disciples, and he heard their questions and exultations. As his vision faded, he could still hear the distant voices of men shouting in joy or despair that the Prince of Heaven had come back to life to redeem all of his creation. He smiled quietly to himself. He had been faithful to the task God had given him, and just as He had said, he learned that he could trust God and obey Him, no matter what the cost. He had been washed in the blood of the God-man and was made new and clean in a way that he could never imagine before.
And then, it was over. The tree did not take his last breath, since he did not breath like a man with lungs. Instead, his consciousness wobbled and winked like a candle in a pool of its own wax, and then, just expired in a little wisp of smoke and was gone.
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Philanthrophel opened his eyes with a sense of surprise and wonder. He was surrounded by music again. It was an old familiar tune, one that had been inscribed on his heart by a thousand years of singing as a young star. He could hear the angels echoing the melody in a complicated counterpoint, and could feel all the stars and planets of the universe vibrate with its harmony. He looked around in excitement. “Could it be?” But is was… Those were the stars that the Prince of Heaven had made to sing at the beginning of creation, the Morning Stars, and there was the great Kapellmeister, Gabriel, with his smile of satisfaction and his director’s baton, his wings poking out from under his white choir-master’s robes. The melody finally came around to the high solo that he used to sing, and he wanted to open his mouth to sing, but he heard another voice singing the familiar line, and the star next to him nudged him to be quiet. “You're a bass star now” the star commented with a wink, “You have to sing the deep parts, the line that keeps the stars and the planets on course to the ‘Musica Mundi.’”
Now Philanthrophel sings of the Redemption of Mankind for all to hear, not as a solo, but as a part of the chorus that keeps the planets all wheeling on their way. Now he understands that these words are not just pretty lyrics, but that they mean that God creates the world from nothing, and that His work will be made and remade until the end of all time. He will not leave this place of service for all the circuses in the world, and he will wait patiently on God’s calling for three years, for thirty years, for three hundred years, or even three billion years. He delights in serving God because he saw what God has done for him, for us, for the whole world.
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My children, we celebrate Christmas with this tree to remember the story of the star that found redemption by serving Christ as his cross. The star on the top reminds us of Philanthrophel, as he led the Wise Men to Jesus. The tree reminds of the weight of human sin Jesus carried on His back to Calvary for us. The red trimming around the tree and the red velvet skirt at the base remind us of the blood that was shed for our sins, to cover our iniquity, and to unite us back to God. And the lights in the tree remind us that God’s light shines from the inside of our hearts when we follow Him as our Savior and Lord, and realize the work that He has done. We can celebrate with the stars and angels the news of Christ’s birth, and remember with Philanthrophel, the star of Bethlehem and the cross of Golgotha, this precious work of sacrifice and expiation. Now we can all sing with him, “It is Finished and All is New!”
© 2021, Copyright by William Joseph Boyd, All Rights Reserved
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