Following a Star: Epiphany, graveside, and beyond

        It was a cold Jan. afternoon as we stood around the open grave. A periodic wind carried the words of the Hebrew Kiddush as it persuaded onlookers to snuggle deeper into their coats. Most eyes were on the white, wooden coffin adorned with the Star of David and poised to be lowered into the ground.
       While I stood there, I became aware of the great diversity that love, history, and prayer were holding together. In the group there was blood mother and adoptive mother, connections broken and rebuilt.  There were believers and non-believers, Jews and Christians, relatives by blood and by legal agreement. There were those highly educated and those less so. This cluster of mourners, family, friends, acquaintances or strangers to each other, had been drawn together by Helen, the strong, diminutive woman to be buried, and her equally strong granddaughter, elegant in simple black. 
      In liturgy the day before, we had celebrated the feast of the Epiphany, and here I was, in the midst of another epiphany. Yesterday it was the magi crossing borders; today it was Helen’s family and friends. Once again love was reaching across boundaries to bring people together. It made me realize how often this happens in our daily life and how many times we don’t even recognize it, much less nurture it.
       There’s a lot about diversity in the news these days, usually focusing on how dissent brought about some kind of sadness or tragedy. Aren’t the stories about terrorism or transgender teens examples of differences leading to conflict? Then there are the personal, smaller differences on topics ranging from politics and religion to driving directions and TV choices.
       It’s safe to say these are common contentions, but do we ever look below their surface? When something is “obvious,” why doesn’t everyone agree?  On the other hand, how is it that we, who in our culture cherish individuality and independence, are surprised at a lack of unanimity on a topic? It’s as though our head tells us everyone’s different, but our daily expectations are grounded in the belief are that it is our “truths” and interpretations that count. How do we deal with this?
       The gospel writers quote Jesus in one place saying he came not to unite but to divide; in another place Jesus is praying that all be one as he and the Father are one. Early Christians had to struggle for unity through many interpretations of what Jesus asked of his followers. Today there are millions of people who worship one God while being at war over how it should be done. Apparently division is common and oneness is not easily achieved. Is community the ideal? What can we do to make it more real now? 
       Helen’s funeral gives us a clue. It was love that reached across all sorts of boundaries to bring a disparate group of relatives and strangers together.  It is love that enables a husband and wife or siblings to find the wisdom and patience to deal with differences. It is love in the form of respect and willingness to understand that can lead to tolerance, whether in families, cities, or nations. Then there are those moments where we see people reaching out to others. Take note each time; it is a holy gift. Sometimes there is an opportunity to honorably avoid conflict. Take it; this too is a holy gift. When we see political leaders trying to follow an elusive star that could make the world a better place, give thanks and support.                Two Jewish people, thousands of years apart, Jesus and Helen, give us epiphany clues for healing a broken world and celebrating the beauty of diversity. Like the magi, may we allow the diversities within and around us become a bridge for love and understanding that will lead us and others to wholeness.
     
                Sr. Colleen Winston, OSB