I have no crown, I carry no gold, frankincense, or myrrh. I do not descend from caravans, nor do I rest in palaces. And yet, I have a mission that only I can fulfil. I do not walk the earth, for my place is in heaven. My mission is not to arrive at the manger, but to point the way to it. I have always known that we are not all called to be protagonists; some of us exist to guide, not to be applauded.
I saw the Magi advance, doubt, tire. I could neither speak to them, nor carry their burden, nor decide for them. My mission was more humble and more demanding: to remain faithful, night after night, without straying, even if no one was watching me. There were times when I wanted to get closer, to do more, to be more. But I understood that if I abandoned my place, they would get lost. My value did not lie in my freedom of movement, but in my constancy.
When the Three Wise Men looked up for the first time, they weren’t just looking for a child: they were looking for something to believe in. Each one had different memories in their hearts.
I could see Melchior carrying the weight of sadness from saying goodbye. He’d left his home and his family, and more than once at night, he’d had doubts. So, I shone a little brighter, not to erase his pain, but to remind him that to love is also to know when to leave when the call comes.
I accompanied Caspar in his curious joy. Each new village was a surprise, each kind gesture, a small celebration. When he laughed, my light seemed to dance, for shared joy lightens the journey and strengthens the step.
I supported Balthazar in the difficult moments of the journey: fatigue, the mistrust of those who did not understand his quest, unanswered questions. In those moments, my light did not shout; it simply remained there. Sometimes that is all it takes to keep going.
There were windy days and silent nights. There was laughter around the fire and tears hidden under coats. I did not choose for them, but I showed them the way: when pride clouded the path, I stood still; when hope faltered, I resumed my walk.
And in the end, when they arrived at the manger, they understood that the journey had changed them not only because they had arrived, but also because of the way they had walked: with faith in sadness, gratitude in joy, and trust even without understanding everything.
I did not receive any gifts, and I did not worship the Child on my knees. However, when I stopped above Bethlehem and saw the smallest but also the brightest light in the world, I knew that my mission was accomplished. Not for having arrived, but for having guided.
Today, I continue to shine. Not always like a star in the sky, but like a good idea, a supportive person, a fair decision; because every life is a journey, and even between sadness and happiness, there is always a light ready to guide us. When you discover your mission and faithfully carry it out, even from afar, you also participate in the miracle of Epiphany: God allows himself to be found and transforms those who accept to follow his light.
By: Salvador Muñoz-Ledo R., M.Afr.