thepaganperspective

Reflections on the Origins of Midwinter

The materialistic reductionism of our modern technological age has left its indelible mark upon our Holiday traditions. It is with no small measure of angst and sadness that I watch the growing tide of commercialization and commoditization of Yule (i.e. Christmas). This is not to suggest that I am opposed to gift giving, jollity, and a good party during the Yuletide. In fact, each of these has a venerable history in antiquity. Gift giving was one of the primary means of well-wishing since the festival of Saturnalia in Rome. Rather, I am suggesting that a less commercialized and financially dependent celebration, which focuses on the historical and religious precedents for the season, might allow us to connect with each other and with our natural world in a more meaningful and inspired way.

“It is only in the past three hundred years or so that a ‘rational’ civilization has turned its back on both the Christian and Pagan traditions and remembered the Solstice by custom and habit rather than by an instinctual involvement with the turning season.” – Shirley Toulson: A Winter Solstice

Yule has been closely associated with the birth of older Pagan Gods and heroes. Many of them (Dionysus, Apollo, Mithras, Osiris, Attis, etc.) possessed a narrative of birth, death, and resurrection close to that of Jesus. Ultimately, of course, the holiday is rooted deeply in the cycle of the year. It is the winter solstice that is being celebrated, seedtime of the year, the longest night and shortest day. It is the birthday of the new Sun King. On this darkest of nights, the Goddess becomes the Great Mother and once again gives birth. And it makes perfect poetic sense that on the longest night of the winter, “the dark night of our souls”, there springs the new spark of hope, the Sacred Fire, the Light of the World, the Coel Coeth. The word solstice comes from the Latin sol stetit, which literally means “sun stands still.” Most likely, this description came from the illusion caused by the sun’s position in the horizon. For six days around the time preceding and following the solstice, the sun appears to rise and set in the same place. The sleeping earth is filled with magic and mystery. We contemplate the beauty of the night sky and marvel at the rebirth of the light. Days that have grown increasingly shorter conclude with the celebration of Yule and the rebirth of the god.

Midwinter began as a celebration of the returning sun and sometimes a propitiation to assure that same return. Neolithic chambers, such as An Lianh Greine (Cave of the Sun) at New Grange were built to capture the sun’s power, while the Zuni and the Hopi Indians performed sacred dances to guide the returning sun. The temples of Egypt in Karnac, Thebes, and Abydos focused the midwinter sun’s rays into the heart of the pyramid’s chambers. It was also a celebration of the midwinter sun, the birth of the sacrificial god(s) (Mithras, Attis, Osiris, Jesus, etc.) that assured the promise of the ensuing year.

– The Solstice at Newgrange

Midwinter’s historical antecedents are the Roman Festival of Saturnalia and the Kalends, which were celebrated with feasting and merry-making, The Feast of Fools turned customs upside down for a day: servants became masters, masters became servants, ordinary people escaped the bonds of drudgery and committed themselves to wild pranks, illicit mirth, and irreverent conduct. This practice was echoed in the Feast of Misrule in England.

– Saturnalia

There had been a tradition in the West that Mary bore the child Jesus on the twenty-fifth day, but no one could seem to decide on the month. Finally, in 320 C.E., the Catholic fathers in Rome decided to make it December, in an effort to co-opt the Mithraic celebration of the Romans, the Yule festival of the Saxons, and the Midwinter revels of the Celts. Thus, despite its shaky start (for over three centuries, no one knew when Jesus was supposed to have been born!), December 25 finally began to catch on. By 529, it was a civic holiday, and all work or public business (except that of cooks, bakers, or any that contributed to the delight of the holiday) was prohibited by the Emperor Justinian. In 563, the Council of Braga forbade fasting on Christmas Day, and four years later the Council of Tours proclaimed the twelve days from December 25 to January 6th as a sacred, festive season. This last point is perhaps the hardest to impress upon the modern reader, who is lucky to get a single day off work. Christmas, in the Middle Ages, was not a single day, but rather a period of twelve days, from December 25 to January 6. The Twelve Days of Christmas, in fact. It is certainly lamentable that the modern world has abandoned this approach, along with the popular Twelfth Night celebrations.

In the darkest part of the year when the days are shortest, Nature asks us to slow down and enjoy a cup of warm tea, to be with loved ones, to listen rather than to speak. Under the ground, the Earth silently sleeps. Seeds rest in suspended animation and the animals hibernate. In contrast, we rush frantically to the malls, stressing ourselves with activity when we really yearn to rest, dream, and gather strength in our bodies for the coming season of renewal. For many people living in the United States, taking time to rest and dream is seen as a sign of laziness. However, nature teaches us that resting, drawing inward for a time is present in all living things. Rest is necessary for growth that comes later in its season.

Our modern knowledge of astronomy tells us that this is a fact we can depend on. Unlike our ancestors – to whom the cycles of light and dark and heat and rain meant life or death, and food or starvation — we need only go to the supermarket and buy everything we need. Urban dwellers usually forget about the farmers who provide our food, and overlook our continued dependency on the cycles of nature. As modern people we know we don’t actually have to make magic in the darkness to encourage the sunlight to return, but with that knowledge we have lost the awe and wonder of the darkness. Because of the pervasive use of electricity, especially in urban areas, we often have to create the experience of darkness in order to illuminate the light.

Midwinter invites us to dream in the dark, to become still and listen to the wise self within, the Old Wise Hag, present in every woman. Winter is her season, and she lives on the edge of Spirit, able to access both this world and the next. It is the Old One who is already in your future looking back into this moment at the choices you made, the values you chose to follow, the paths you took. Dreaming is her power, and she patiently waits in the dark with wisdom and guidance. It is often this wise self that we try to avoid in our constant rushing toward the light, and which we choose not to see with our inner eyes.

The dark season challenges us to surrender to our dreaming, to trust that the of the Earth will support our weight as we sleep. It is out of the darkness that flowers eventually emerge, babies are born, and inspiration for poetry and ideas are nurtured toward the page and through our voices. In the deep dark places in ourselves, we find the inner truth about ourselves. In this winter season of so many people prematurely rushing toward the light, remember to slow down and do winter’s inner work. Celebrate the dark, where the inner life is honored and nurtured. Sometime during this season, take some time for yourself to go inward to find out what your dreams are.

In Celtic mythology, the Cailleach is the Old Hag who brings in frost and snow and the bitter winds of winter. She personifies the cold dark days and brings the snow, which is seen as feathers emptying from her pillow. May each of us open our hearts and homes to the Old Woman of Winter.

Welcome to you, Old One
Welcome to the snow and ice,
The bitter cloud of your breath,
The pillow-feathered snow.
Welcome to you on this Winter Day

May your blessings hold us,
May your chills avoid us,
May the bright promise
Of each clear day
Remind us of your gifts.

Old One, cold one,
Though we fear your storms,
Yet we welcome you
Into our Winter hearts,
With your cleansing breath.
To blow away the old year
And usher in the new.

- John Matthews, Invocation to the Old One