Epiphany is a feast of revelation—a moment when light breaks through the ordinary and shows us what has been quietly true all along. In Ireland, this day carries an added tenderness. Known as Nollaig na mBan, Women’s Christmas, it honours the unseen labour, the steady wisdom, and the generational resilience that have held households, parishes, and communities together through dark winters and bright ones alike.

For many of us, especially those who move through the world with neurodivergent ways of sensing and knowing, Epiphany is not a single flash of insight but a slow dawning. It is the kind of light that rises over bogland and blackthorn—soft, patient, and honest. It invites us to notice what is already shimmering at the edges of our lives: belonging, guidance, and the quiet companionship of God.

This hymn, “Star of the Morning,” is rooted in the Irish landscape that shapes our spirituality. Bog cotton trembling in the frost, bare blackthorn hedges holding their hidden promise, women tending hearth‑fire through long nights—these are epiphanies in their own right. They remind us that revelation often comes through the land, through one another, and through the small, faithful acts that keep hope alive.

As we sing, may we find ourselves gathered into that gentle light—welcomed, recognised, and guided by the Christ who meets us exactly as we are.

“Star of the Morning”

To the tune of Morning Has Broken
Text by Michael McFarland Campbell, Copyright © 2025.