From Bethlehem to other Stars

Christmas Eve Sky

background photos: Casey Horner, Jonny Gios both on Unsplash + Felix Theis (private collection)

Bethlehem's other Children

In the village of my childhood,
where apricot trees blossom
in February,
a sanctuary
celebrated with festive cheer
and happy children,
sugar plum fairies,
and Santa's elves,
there is a refuge,
a crèche for babies
rescued from garbage bins,
for many orphans the only home
they'll ever know,
just around the corner
from that famous crib
where a baby called Jesus
is said to be born,
and where women are
no longer allowed to walk
about on their own.

〰 Veronika Bond 〰

I wrote this poem two years ago, inspired by two articles, one in the Guardian, the other in the Jerusalem Post.

Star of Bethlehem

photo credit: Franciscan Shepherds Field

Christmas Eve on the Shepherds' Field

In the labyrinthine burrows of my mind, the night of December 24th-25th is forever linked to Bethlehem. Not because I visited the grotto where ‘Baby Jesus’ was born as a child, or because I was raised in a Christian family, and we used to sing about a 'little town called Bethlehem’, and I starred in the role of 'Mother Mary' holding a baby doll in our annual nativity play. Although those events did happen.

To top all these childhood experiences, there is something else ~ which seems almost surreal right now ~ one regular celebration etched into my memory in rich ambrosian colours, flavours, and savours.

On the Christmas Eves of my childhood we used to go to the Lutheran 'Christmas Church' in Bethlehem ~ the original Bethlehem in the Holy Land, which was officially part of Jordan at the time, although the people who lived there were all Palestinians. After the church service, having rattled off all the songs of Three Kings, and a baby born in an animal shed, and dazzling angels scaring the hell out of some shepherds in a field, we would drive a short distance out of Bethlehem to Beit Sahour (= the Village of the Shepherds) and go to ‘that field’.

Much later I learned that there are at least three ’Shepherds’ Fields’ competing for the title. Anyway, we always went to ‘our Shepherds’ Field’, along with a crowd of other believers in the authenticity of that particular patch of land. 

The Franciscan Shepherds’ Field is more than just pastures for sheep to roam and graze. It features a magical cluster of caves. In the 1960s it was a simple, welcoming venue ~ no blinking fairy-lights, tinsel, or glittering tourist souvenirs. Around midnight on December 24th these caves transformed into a maze of wonder, exuding more charm and enchantment than any Disney amusement-park.

The Shepherds' Field

ੈ✶.⋆. ࿐࿔

Candles nestle ˳·˖
into the nooks and hollows  ੈ✦
of the vaulted limestone walls  ੈ✧̣̇
flames flicker 𓆩 ੈ
filling the rocky womb  ੈ ࿔
of Mother Earth with a warm glow ✶
aromas of freshly baked bread and roast lamb ࿐࿔
waft through the underground caverns ࿔ ✶
following the scent-trail  ੈ✦
birthday guests  ੈ✧̣̇
gather from far and near ੈ˖✶
to celebrate Jesus' special day ˳·˖✶
trickle through the passage ways towards the altar ੈ✧̣
where shepherds serve pita breads stuffed with hot meat 𓆩♡𓆪

ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ 　　

The 'shepherds' in the cave were probably Franciscan monks. Herds of visitors flocked to the annual midnight gatherings on the Shepherds’ Field on that mythical date. Some would have travelled across mountain passes and sandy seas ~ like the Three Wise Men ~ and had no place to stay the night ~ in the spirit of St. Mary and Joseph, bless them. Somehow they ended up being introduced to my parents, because everyone knew we had plenty of space, and many spare beds at home.

'Home' in those days (1958-1967) was a small Lutheran boarding school for Palestinian boys. My Mama and Papa served as house parents/ teacher/ gardener/ household manager at the school, and our family lived on the premises for five years. Most of the boarders would go home for Christmas. That meant plenty of empty beds on Christmas Eve in the dormitories. So we always ended up taking some stranded-on-the-Shepherds’-Field visitors, back home.

Nowadays, my childhood home near Bethlehem is used as a hostel and meeting place for people from all religious denominations. It’s called Abraham’s Herberge and is far more stunning than I remember it.

Ah! vous dirai-je Maman

melody taken for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

Famous Stars, Forgotten Poets and some Surprises

The Christmas songs of my childhood were all serious and stern. Christmas wasn’t about having fun or being showered with gifts. It was about remembering all the poor children in the world who didn’t get any presents, who didn’t even have a bed to sleep in. The ‘joyous’ Christmas story featured as the backdrop to fan the flames of Christian guilt.

‘Fun Christmas songs’ were added to my repertoire much later, when I moved to England as an adult with my two young daughters. One of the songs we learned early on was Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Not a Christmas Song, strictly speaking, but it is fun to sing on Christmas Eve (when you’re about 2 - 6 years old). It reminded me of the star lit night skies over the Shepherds’ Field, and felt suitable for the occasion.

I didn’t know at the time that the lyrics for this song come from a poem by Jane Taylor, first published 1806 in London in the book Rhymes for the Nursery (by Jane and her sister Anne Taylor). We only learned the first verse ~ like most people I guess. You can read all five verses of Taylor's poem here.

Some of Jane Taylor's early poems for children were published in a collaboration with Adelaide O’Keeffe (daughter of popular Irish playwright John O’Keeffe). The collection Original Poems for Infant Minds was “solicited by the publisher Darton and Harvey and published anonymously” ~ which might explain why ‘The Star’ itself rose to stardom, while the authors of the collection are barely remembered.

But here's another surprise ~ or two ~ linked to this humble nursery rhyme/song:

Did you know that the melody for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star was adopted from an old French pastoral song called 'Ah! vous dirai-je, Maman'? (= Oh! Shall I tell you Mama?)

First published in 1761, the lyrics were added later. The original authors of both are unknown.The little tune might have vanished into oblivion altogether, had it not been picked up and made famous by one of the superstars of Classical music.

The Austrian Wunderkind Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was around 25 years old when he wrote his 'Twelve Variations on Ah vous dirai-je, Maman" (1781/2) and transposed the singsong of an anonymous French sheep herder into a composition for solo piano. Whoever decided to marry Jane Taylor's lyrics with this tune ~ turning Twinkle Twinkle Little Star into a true 'evergreen' still popular more than two centuries later ~ most likely picked up the melody from Mozart.

Ishtar

Ishtar on an Akkadian Seal

Starry Words and Symbols

The English word star [according to etymonline from Proto-Germanic *sternan = celestial body appearing as a luminous point] has striking similarities with Istar ~ the Akkadian name for a goddess of the same ilk as the Roman Venus and the Greek Aphrodite.

Given that the ancient Greeks based their alphabet on Akkadian, the Greek word aster (= star) is likely a direct descendant of Istar.

None of of the star-related names of the goddess are mentioned in etymonline.com under :star: although they are listed separately:::

Astarte – name of a Phoenician goddess identified by the Greeks with their Aphrodite, from Greek Astarte, from Phoenician Astoreth (plural Ashtaroth), equivalent to Assyrian Ishtar. ~ "Apparently properly a virginal goddess of the moon or the heavens." ~ Most likely taken as inspiration for the Christian 'Virgin Mary'.

Ishtar – ancient Sumero-Babylonian goddess of love and fertility, counterpart of Phoenician Astarte (the Middle Eastern Goddess of war, beauty, hunting and love), from Akkadian Istar.

The unhitching of the English verbiont star from the ancient star-goddesses is a victim of the constructed PIE system introduced in the 18th century for etymological research (see my wordcast Word Diggers and Poachers).

The asterisk on your keyboard [from Greek asterikos= little star] dates back to late 14c, when it was introduced as a “figure used in printing and writing to indicate footnote, omission, etc., or to distinguish words or phrases as conjectural.”, th

Asterix, the name of the little character with wings on his helmet and superpowers in his blood, invented by French comic book authors René Goscinny and Albert Uderzo, and star of the bestselling series Asterix and Obelix, is a play on the word asterisk.

Star as verb and noun for leading performers was born in 1824. Although the English poet Geoffrey Chaucer (1340-1400) already used the word ’stellify’ in the sense of ‘turning someone into a constellation’.

People began seeing stars after a knock on the head from 1839.

The first shiny sheriff star as a brass badge for police officers was spotted in New York City in 1856. The seven pointed star “typically meant to be worn by those that are of the highest moral caliber and are essentially incorruptible” was allegedly inspired by the symbols worn by medieval knights. (see Irvin Hahn)

Stars for hotels and restaurants have been awarded since 1886

Outstanding performers in sports are called stars since 1916

School children can collect star stickers for good marks since 1977

Stars have been worn and painted in all cultures as symbols of divine presence, supreme powers, highest attainment, eternal hope and wisdom. “Stars are attributes of all Queens of Heaven who are often star crowned.” J.C. Cooper writes in his Dictionary of Symbols. “The star is preeminently the symbol of Ishtar, or Venus, as morning and evening star.”

Symbolic stars, of course, come in many forms. With four rays it is the symbol of Shamash, the ancient Mesopotamian sun god, a god of love and justice. (Shamash is also the origin of the Arabic word shams = sun)

The eight-pointed star in a circle is the symbol of Inanna, the Mesopotamian goddess of love, war, and fertility. To the Akkadians, Babylonians and Sumerian she was known as Ishtar.

The six pointed star (or hexagram), sometimes called the Seal of Solomon, depicts creation. Adopted by Judaism in the 3rd or 4th century, it's roots are much older. Hexagrams are linked to ancient traditions in India, Tibet and Armenia, where the same symbol is known as the Armenian Wheel of Eternity.

"The oldest known depiction of a six-pointed star (dating back to the 3rd millennium BC.) was excavated in the Ashtarak burial mound in “Nerkin Naver” (in Armenia)."  

Associated with the colour yellow and worn as a ‘badge of shame’, the hexagram has dark chapter in its history, stretching over more than 12 centuries. The wearing of the yellow badge dates back to some medieval caliphate in the early 8th century. A document from 1211 describes a decree issued in Bagdad:

"Two yellow badges [are to be displayed], one on the headgear and one on the neck. Furthermore, each Jew must hang round his neck a piece of lead weighing [3 grammes] with the word dhimmi on it. He also has to wear a belt round his waist. The women have to wear one red and one black shoe and have a small bell on their necks or shoes."

A timeline of the infamous ‘Jew’s Star’ from the 8th to the 20th century is listed on the Wikipedia page 'Yellow Badge'.

A whole constellation of stars appeared on the so-called ‘first star spangled banner’ in Baltimore in 1813. The 15 cotton stars were stitched onto a rectangular piece of dyed English wool bunting by flag-maker Mary Pickering and her assistants.

Contrary to its title, the young U.S. flag wasn't the first one. It was an update from an earlier prototype from 1777, designed and made by seamstress Betsy Ross in Philadelphia (although recollections on this story vary). The earlier version had only 13 stars arranged in a circle, representing the first states of the new union of colonial North-America. The number of stars on the U.S. flag has since been updated to 20 stars in 1818, 48 stars in 1912, and 50 stars in 1960 ~ each star representing one state of the union.

Each individual star of the constellation on the U.S. banner is a pentagram (aka star pentagon), an ancient symbol with two distinct faces. This star in particular star has a bright and a dark side. A carrier of aspiration and light when pointing upwards, the five-pointed star is a traditional symbol of the devil, imbued with powers of evil and black magic when pointing downwards.

Unless the fifty white pentagrams are meant to be an aggregation of starfish, of course ~ 'a Christian symbol for divine love, the Holy Spirit, the Virgin Mary, and hope, particularly in dark and difficult times'.

Other English words for the celestial bodies illuminating our night skies are inherited from the Latin sidus (= heavenly body, star, constellation).

The beautiful and little known word sidereal (= of the stars, starlike) was adopted from the Latin sidereus (= starry, astral, of the constellations).

Better known are the two starry cousins desire and consider along with their offspring 〰 desirable, desirous, considerable, considerate, consideration, considerateness

Desire [from Latin desiderare = long for, wish for, demand, expect] is derived from the Latin phrase de sidere which means literally from the stars. Given the profound knowledge of our ancestors about the stars and their influences on earthly life, it is not unreasonable to assume that desire was originally a literal conversation with the stars.
The contemporary interpretation ‘to await what the stars will bring’ sounds far more fatalistic by comparison.

Consider [from Latin con = together + sidereus = of the stars] has been used in English since late 14 c. In the sense of meditate upon, focus the mind for careful examination, think carefully, observe, take into account, reflect on, study.
Since our ancestors have been known to navigate (then) unknown oceans, teeming with seamonsters and dragons, guided by the stars and their knowledge of astronomy, the word consider may have originated as a nautical term.

We may thank our lucky stars that all those scary mythical creatures belong to a distant past and can no longer touch us. That the ancient knowledge of our ancestors has also slipped away is part and parcel of the deal for human travellers on the Wheel of Eternity.

But then again we might be called to reconsider our present cycle along the wheel. As the year 2023 is ending under a dark star, considerations of world peace, safety, and healing the terrible trauma inflicted on thousands of innocent people become the most burning desire.

The doors of this year’s Advent Calendar are filled with images of horrific scenes, experienced by vulnerable children and their families, caused by incomprehensible political decisions and inhumane actions. In such darkness and devastation I stumble upon the luminous work of American Palestinian poet Naomi Shihab Nye ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

A word has tough skin

She declares in a short poem on words...

A word must slide and sneak
And spin into the tunnel of the ear.
What’s to fear?
Everything.
But a word is brave.

Naomi Shihab’s poem leaves me wondering:::

What word is brave enough to slide, sneak and spin into the tunnel of the Anthropocene’s ear in the throes of violent death?

Let it be shihāb, whispers MythoTrófi, one of my WordFairies.

Shihāb (شهاب)  ͙͘͡★

Shihāb is an Arabic word and means shooting star, luminescent meteor, falling star, celestial fire, or simply flame.

Let shihāb be a flame from beyond the Anthropocene space, falling from the sky, enlightening the dark side of the human mind.