The twinkling star

I remember the first time I learned about how stars twinkle. Science tells us that as starlight travels through our atmosphere, it encounters varying layers of air with different temperatures and densities. This causes the light to bend and shift in unpredictable ways, making stars appear to shimmer or “sparkle.” The Nasa website advises that on a clear, dark night, our eyes can see about 6,000 stars in the sky and that as the movement in the air causes the starlight to bend slightly as it travels through the atmosphere to our sight. This means that some of the light reaches us directly and some gets bent slightly away. To our eyes, this makes the star seem to twinkle.

I remember being slightly disappointed with this explanation because the world of the stars is a magical one for me. I grew up formed by the Sunday night Disney advice that wishing upon a star contained the magical power of making dreams come true! Of grandparents who spoke about times when my siblings and I were just a twinkle in the sky. Of this wonderful sense that we are all made from stardust – this idea that we are all interconnected build from the remnant of stars that lived and died long ago. That our destiny is written there. That when our loved ones die, they are counted amongst the brightest of the stars in heaven.

This is the world of religious imagination where stars are symbols of hope, guidance and the presence of God. We remember from our biblical tradition that a star guided the shepherds to where Jesus lay all those years ago. That on our most recent Easter night we proclaimed Jesus, the Son of God as the Morning Star who never sets. The Morning Star announcing a new dawn for all.

Rich gospel readings have accompanied people of faith this week. We have walked with Mary of Magdala and the other Mary as they quickly left the tomb holding the beginnings of the Good News (Mt 28:8-15). We have wept with Mary Magdalene outside the tomb and thought about the times when we have held on so tightly to a memory or a loved one that we lost our eyes to see the new unfolding (Jn 20:11-18). We have listened to the rich Emmaus story and wondered about the times when the Lord has been hiding in plain sight (Lk24:13-25). We remember times when we were trapped inside our own suffering and what it took for hope to break through (Lk 24:35-48). We have listened to the invitation to cast our nets wide and to follow (Jn 21:1-14). The sparseness of Mark’s account of Jesus’ appearance to Mary and the struggle for people to hear may have made us wonder (Mk 16:9-15). And on the second Sunday of Easter, we listen once again to the story of the fearful disciples in a locked room and the sudden appearance of Jesus in their midst with words of peace (Jn 20:19-31).

And over this first Easter Week, our Easter hearts have been touched by the news of the death of Pope Francis, a luminous figure for Catholics. And I couldn’t help but think that the readings which accompanied us this week spoke so powerfully about the leadership and work of Pope Francis – the one who consistently spoke about the invitation to life that the message of Jesus brings. His constant urging for us to break out of our inner locked rooms to be a people of dialogue and encounter. To have our eyes fixed on the most at risk so that all can live with dignity. To be a people of hope, because Jesus never disappoints.

So, while I admire science, and I accept that there is no scientific reason for believing that the dead are amongst the stars, I am convinced that the stars are shining a little brighter this week because one of the faithful amongst is now in the heavens. So, vale Pope Francis, thank you for your poetry, your work, your leadership, sharing your love of the Lord because:

Brothers and sisters, this is the greatest hope of our life: we can live this poor, fragile and wounded existence clinging to Christ, because he has conquered death, he conquers our darkness and he will conquer the shadows of the world, to make us live with him in joy, forever. This is the goal towards which we press on, as the Apostle Paul says, forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead (cf. Phil 3:12-14). Like Mary Magdalene, Peter and John, we hasten to meet Christ.

Easter Sunday homily of His Holiness Pope Francis, read by Cardinal Angelo Comastri, St Peter’s Square Easter Sunday, 20 April 2025

May the star of Pope Francis continue to shine brightly in our weary world.

By:  Cathy Jenkins