Growing up, I never knew what Winter Solstice was all about. Being born in the church—I went there in my mother’s uterus for nine months before I was even born, I was given church language early on!
The term, “Winter Solstice” was not in my lexicon. People in my tribe used church words, Bible phrases. Approved words by doctrine and creeds. We did not even say “Halloween.” Rather, that word-was changed to this, “Holyween.”
Oh me—my spiritual beginnings were very narrow. Now, I can smile with kindness upon my past…but it’s taken some work to find my inner smile. How about you and your past?
My people, born in the red clay of the Carolinas, did not speak of this night. Perhaps they thought it evil to remember the longest night in the year. But what is the evil in this term when there is clearly so much darkness? So much children killing by guns; so many wars; so much political trauma; so much hostility; so much family division—unspoken and unacknowledged—only swept under the carpet and not spoken, acknowledged— and we think this is the way we have to be now. Light helps us not surrender. Light helps us lift our heads up. Light helps us find the way forward. Light helps us find our way back home!
Come to find out though, my Celtic ancestors knew this word and knew it quite well.
Ancient people marked Winter Solstice and January as important times and an epic season worth celebrating. Our word, “January” comes from the Greek word, “Janus”. Janus was a Greek goddess and she had two faces. One face looked back and with the other face, she gazed forward. January marks the season in our lives when we both look back and look forward. Every Winter Solstice, the light changes. We look back on the longest night in the entire calendar to reflect upon our losses, our griefs and taste the bitterness of the illusions that we were brought face to face with in our lives. But, on the Winter Solstice, we also, look forward into January—that month that is pregnant with new beginnings and new dreams and new hopes and new life—all because of this—there will be more light, more warmth; and more hope born.
This is the season to reflect, to amend mistakes of the past and to anticipate new beginnings. Oh, how need new beginnings, don’t we?
The longest night in the world is coming up. Like— it’s happening within a few hours now if you’re paying attention. The longest night is a time to remember our darkness; our griefs; our losses—all the darkness we now experience. But the longest night also marks the dawn of more light that is to come!
I’ve written a poem to help me find words—find meaning in my heritage of now acknowledging with Celtic Christians, Eastern Christians and millions of others knew—way before me. In so many ways, I am late to the party.
I find great, deep and assuaging comfort in the beautiful words of Robert Capon:
“What we are watching for is a party. And that party is not just down the street making up its mind when to come to us. It is already hiding in our basement, banging on our steam pipes, and laughing its way up our cellar stairs. The unknown day and hour of its finally bursting into the kitchen and roistering its way through the whole house is not dreadful; it is all part of the divine lark of grace. God is not our mother-in-law, coming to see whether her wedding-present china has been chipped. We do indeed need to watch for him; but only because it would be such a pity to miss all the fun.”
Winter Blessings!
Winter Solstice Anticipation!
Advent Blessings!
Merry Christmas!
Steve
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