BEING HUMAN

Day 9, 9 December 2024, the 1020th day of the full-scale war.

Across 1,020 days of this war, our community of hope walks a tightrope between the air-raid warnings of technology and the whisper of the Holy Spirit, between political proclamations and divine guidance. We often find ourselves like those ancient sages from the east, looking for divine signals inside human chaos: which voices to trust, which paths to take, which warnings to heed. In a sky torn between starlight and missile fire, how do we read the signs that lead through this long night?

“Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem… Then, being divinely warned in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed for their own country another way” (Matthew 2:1, 12, NKJV).

The narrative presents a striking contrast. The priests of Jerusalem possessed the scriptural knowledge and stayed where they were, while foreign scholars undertook a dangerous journey into unknown territory. These magi, intellectuals who were willing to become travelers in hostile country, navigated political danger and border crossings while carrying valuable cargo. Their status as outsiders proved crucial, since sometimes those at the margins perceive divine action more clearly than the insiders who are comfortable in their certainties.

Their journey merged intellectual rigor with spiritual openness, astronomical calculation with dreams, scholarly precision with heavenly guidance. Their gifts were prophetic and practical at once: gold for kingship, frankincense for priesthood, myrrh for sacrifice, and perhaps, later, the means of financing the Holy Family’s own refugee journey into Egypt.

The contrast between Herod’s fearful response and the magi’s worshipful one reveals how the same truth can provoke radically different reactions. When the palace proved dangerous, they accepted redirection without hesitation, and their detour home shows that faithfulness sometimes requires avoiding centers of power rather than collaborating with them, a lesson Jesus Himself would later embody. The story challenges religious nationalism and cultural imperialism alike, showing how God’s truth draws sincere seekers out of every nation and not only the chosen ones.

This speaks powerfully into our own reality. It teaches us to see present suffering in the light of a future redemption while attending to immediate needs, and to recognize that spiritual wisdom includes practical provision for people fleeing violence. The magi’s willingness to undertake a dangerous journey challenges our comfort-oriented spirituality, while their openness to several forms of guidance, stars and dreams and Scripture together, teaches us to stay alert to God’s various signals, if we still pay attention to the work of the Holy Spirit.

Like those ancient scholars, today’s wise ones travel to Ukraine: our Western partners and friends and allies, who come not to rescue us from our situation but to accompany us through it, on the way to the cross. They navigate bureaucratic mazes and security risks, bringing gifts of wisdom and solidarity and support. They look for Christ, and they recognize His presence in our most wounded places rather than in grand cathedrals, at the graves of the people we loved. And like the original magi who departed by another way, they often leave transformed, carrying our story home with them, becoming witnesses to our suffering and, I hope, to our faith.

Seeking the truth requires courage and discernment together. Like the magi who returned by another way, we have to be ready to abandon a well-crafted strategic plan when divine wisdom points down a different road. Their status as scholars turned travelers reminds us that real wisdom requires moving past theoretical knowledge into lived experience, past a comfortable peacetime theology into a costly discipleship. Perhaps such wisdom is found not in secure palaces and presidential offices but in the willingness to journey into uncertainty toward Bethlehem, to discover God’s light in the darkest corners of a war-torn place, and to bring divine gifts wherever Christ chooses to dwell.

Prince of Peace, guide us through our uncertain nights, whether we find ourselves in Jerusalem or in Bethlehem. When drones and missiles replace the stars in our sky night after night, help us discern Your direction through the whisper of Your Spirit. Grant us the courage to seek You in unexpected places, and the wisdom to recognize when another way is needed. We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, Lord of wandering scholars and refugee families. Amen.