Epiphanies abound in great literature. Characters discover a fortitude they never knew they had. Poets lose themselves in the beauties of the created world. Saving secrets are revealed, and the works of darkness are brought into the light.
Japanese Zen Buddhism calls these “ah-ha” moments satori, the striking force of coming to know one's true nature (kenshō). The two most prominent philosophical schools in Zen Buddhism, Sōtō and Rinzai, take very different views of how satori comes to be. Sōtō Zen (“farmers' Zen”) teaches that the practice of Zen is satori; that is, to sit and meditate is identical to satori. What we call “enlightenment” comes over a period of time and practice. It can be slow-going with plenty of opportunities for failure. Rinzai Zen (“samurais' Zen”) teaches that satori strikes like lightning, unexpected and brilliant. Sitting in meditation is a necessary but insufficient for satori because one cannot work oneself into enlightenment.
Now, what does this lesson in Japanese Zen Buddhism have to do with the Magi, Baby Jesus in a manger, and the North Star? If my almost 30 years of being a Catholic has taught me anything, it's this: growing in holiness, being perfected in Christ is slow-going, frustrating, sometimes close to maddening. The Magi figured out the meaning of the North Star and started on their way to Bethlehem. The realization that the King had been born probably hit them like lightning. But they still had a ways to go before they found him, before they could pay him homage and reveal to the world that the Savior of Gentile and Jew alike had arrived. You know that Jesus is the Christ. That's the lightning part. Now, the farmers' part: the seasonal, on-going, year-round, and daily practice of being Christ in the world. This is our satori. Kōun o!