I've been thinking recently about moving to Australia.
When I mentioned this to Nancy she rather absent-mindedly replied, "That's nice, dear, I'll miss you." But after a couple of minutes she looked up from her morning paper and rather more pointedly asked, "Australia? What are you crazy? We're having a hard enough time as it is just getting ready to move the sixty miles from Chantilly to Winchester and you want to move to Australia? Why in the world do you want to move to Australia?"
"In reality I don't want to move to Australia permanently I just want to be there this Friday."
"You want to go to Australia for just one day? What's so special about Fridays in Australia? Do they have eight hours of happy hour and only two of work?"
"No, no." I replied. "This Friday is the solstice. So if we were in Australia we would have a second longest day of the year. I was thinking that we could be like the snowbirds who leave their homes the northern states and spend the winter months in Florida or Arizona; only we would move from Virginia to Australia."
You see." I said. "If you just move from, say, Maine to Florida the days still get shorter this time of year and what's the point of having all that nice warm weather if there isn't enough daylight to take advantage of it?"
"Want to know what I think?" asked Nancy. "I think you should go upstairs and take a nap."
"But just think." I went on if we went to Australia every year on the first day of autumn in the Northern Hemisphere and returned on the first day of spring we'd always have the advantage of lots of sunlight and nice long days to enjoy it."
At this point I was getting kind of wound up and excited but Nancy just coolly looked at me and said, "I guarantee that after just one week you would be complaining about how hot it is in Australia in the summer and how in the world could anyone be expected to celebrate Christmas when it's in the mid-nineties and we'd be on the first plane home."
Unfortunately, it was just at this point that my alarm clock went off and this fascinating dream so abruptly came to an end. I looked outside and it was a gray, cool morning, and I decided that this change of seasons was probably just fine with me. So after breakfast I went into the garage and wheeled the snow blower out onto the driveway and cranked it up just to be sure that I'd be ready when winter really arrives.
Yes, whether we want it to or not winter will be here soon enough. The shortest day of the year will be December 21 when at precisely 7:22 p.m. Eastern Standard Time winter begins in the Northern Hemisphere.
For those of us who live north of the equatorial zones the solstice is known as the day of the long night--a night, when we can enjoy a midwinter night's dream with visions of sugar plums dancing in our heads. On this ultimate day of rest, even the mighty Sun stands momentarily still in the sky.
The word solstice literally means, "Sun standing still." At the moment of the winter solstice, the path of the sun in the sky over the past six months has reached its furthest southern position and now turns northward.
Thursday, December 21 at 7:22 p.m. Eastern Standard Time the sun will stand directly overhead at latitude 23.50 South over the Tropic of Capricorn. For residents of the Southern Hemisphere, like those who live in Australia, this will be the longest day of the year, but for us in the Northern, the day will be the shortest.
Indeed, for regions north of the Arctic Circle, the sun will not rise on this day. At best on this date, those near the Circle will see a twilight glow in the noontime sky. And at the North Pole, the day will signify "Midnight."
Although for us on the Eastern seaboard the deepest cold is frequently still a month or so away, the winter solstice has been used as the starting point for the winter season. This definition is based on the position of the sun in the sky between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. The period has little to do with the weather, even though it does encompass some of the coldest months of the year in northern middle and high latitudes.
If we define winter solely by the coldest quarter of the year then meteorologists and climatologists generally consider December-January-February as the winter months.
However, if we define winter as the season with the fewest hours of potential sunlight then the winter solstice marks the midpoint of that season.
So why is this day so important to us, perhaps more so than the equinoxes or the summer solstice?
As the human species moved further away from its tropical birthplace, the impacts of the short winter days became important and the event woven into the social, cultural and religious fabric as well as the species' biology.
Festivals, rituals and celebrations appear throughout human cultures, beginning at least in the Neolithic Period of 10,000 years ago. We all have heard of Stonehenge and its function as a megalithic solar observatory. We now know that it has a contemporary counterpart in Ireland called Newgrange, which is estimated to be 5000 years old.
Newgrange is also a solar observatory designed to funnel a shaft of sunlight deep into its central chamber at dawn on the day of the Winter Solstice. Around the world, many such sites, including medieval churches, incorporate elements to determine and mark the important day of the Winter Solstice.
The best-known celebration/festival during late December is Christmas, but it is a recent festival added to the list. Its date was set by the Roman Emperor during the Fourth Century to coincide with pagan rituals and celebrations surrounding the Winter Solstice. There are great similarities to the "Birth of the Son" and the "Rebirth of the Sun" beyond the obvious similarity of words.
Festivals of the Winter Solstice have ancient origins. The ancient Egyptians, Babylonians and Persians had renewal festivals during this period, as did the Romans and other European cultures: the Roman Saturnalia, the Norse and Germanic Yule and the Celtic festivals.
Winter Solstice festivals were not limited to Europe either. Among there are Pakistani Tibetan, Chinese, and Japanese midwinter festivals.
Native North Americans also held solstice rituals. The Lokatas believed that what they called the sacred circle of stars that represented the black hills was a sign that the time of the darkest days was at hand when the sacred circle of stars was directly overhead.
Contemporary astronomers have determined that during the week around the winter solstice that the group of stars the Lakota's observed rise directly out of the east, sets directly to the west and in the dark of night stands directly over head until it begins to rise later each night brining with it the promise of longer days and the next growing season.
And of course there is the archetypal solstice reported in Genesis when we are told "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void and darkness was upon the deep; and the spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters.
And God said let there be light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light day and the darkness he called nigh. And there evening and there was morning."
At the root of all these celebrations and rituals is the battle between Light and Dark. The battle reaches a turning point on the Winter Solstice as the advances of Darkness are halted and the tide turns for the forces of Light. Light returns to drive the gloom away and to raise our spirits.
The Rev. Meg Barnhouse in a delightful little book with the unlikely title of The Rock of Ages at the Taj Mahal observes that:
"For some of us, the Light as a symbol can represent the light of reason, by which we find our way in life. We honor reason in our tradition, and rebel against any faith tradition that we put aside our need for things to make sense."
"For others, the light can represent the light of spirit that ebbs and flows inside us as we sometimes feel drained and dusty, and at other times energetic, enthusiastic, and supple. Some times in our lives are spirited and others are dispirited times."
"As we contemplate the meanings of dark times and the light times, the earth based traditions would caution us against using The Dark as a symbol for all that is negative. If we use "darkness" to speak about ignorance, depression and evil we speak as if it would be best to no darkness at all, to have light all the time. That would be awful, she concludes. There is a season for dark and a season for light."
I think many of spend a great deal of time in the darkness searching for light and meaning in our lives. We struggle in what some have called the dark night of the soul.
As the year comes to darkness," writes Eugene Widrick, "so too there comes a time when darkness is in our lives--the loss of one we love, illness and threat to our own sense of being and integrity, personal stress when we are overwhelmed and frightened by strange voices within ourselves, anxiety about the uncontrolled and unmanageable changes in the world around us, the breakup of our family by alienation or children growing up or changes in ourselves and as we look around--the darkness falls."
Carl Yung once wrote, "As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being."
But those who bravely take on the darker side of things, within them selves and in the world, remind us how far and deep we can travel in the time given us. They also remind us that the darkness is temporary and in time the light of dawn can replace even the darkest nights of our soul.
The writer Archibald MacLeish captures this sense of hopelessness in his play J.B. In the play, MacLeish responses to the horrors he saw during two world wars, including the Holocaust and the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. "J.B." is a modern takeoff of the story of Job. It's about a contemporary man who loses everything he has, and he struggles to find meaning in the midst of such hopelessness. At the end of the play J.B.'s wife, Sarah attempts to give him some hope for the future..
"It's too dark to see," J.B. says.
"Then blow on the coal of the heart, my darling." Sarah replies,
J.B. asks, "The coal of the heart?"
And Sarah speaks out: "It's all the light now. Blow on the coal of the heart. The candles in church are out. The lights have gone out in the sky. Blow on the coal of the heart and ... we'll see where we are..."
Like Sarah, I ask you this morning to blow on the coal of your heart:
In the midst of the darkness of human loss, blow the mysterious ember of life of living back into flame.
In the midst of grief and sadness, blow the enduring spirit of hope back into flame.
In the midst of hate and fear, blow the sustaining spirit of love back into flame.
Carry that burning coal of love wherever you go. Let it always be glowing in the darkness. Let it always show you the way. Feed it. Nourish it. Let it burn bright and warm within you.
Blow on the coal of the heart, and you will see that light out of darkness comes.
One of my favorite bits of poetry is from a poem by Wendell Barry. The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
I love the images in this poem. Who among us hasn't been awakened in the night by worries and concerns for our families, our jobs, our world, our environment? Who among us hasn't awakened to be surrounded by the darkness of the long night of sorrow and despair?
And how often have each of us found comfort in the peace of wild things? Of a cat curled up on our laps, of a dog sleeping by the fire? The bird feeders I have outside my office often provide a moment of delight even on the hardest of days. And even the worst gloom can be lifted when the calves are romping in the field behind our house.
But Berry doesn't stop with this sense of peace that he gets from being out in nature. He goes on to say that even in the darkest of seasons "I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light." Waiting with their light that will indeed brighten the darkest night and with this renewed sense of hope he is able to "rest in the grace of this world" and to have his spirits lifted.
The good news is that after the solstice the days will soon begin to grow longer. By the end of January there will be over 30 minutes of additional light and by the end of February over an hour.
Like the ancients we need to have faith that light will triumph over dark. And we must have faith that love will triumph over hate; that hope will triumph over despair; and that compassion and justice will triumph over repression and imprisonment.
We need to remember as we travel through winter's darkness what the writer of Ecclesiastes has told us. We need to remember that "To everything there is a season..." And we need to remember that the seasons of our life, just like the seasons of the year, bring with them differing amounts of light and darkness.
And so it is that this time of solstice, this time of dark and cold, will ultimately yield to more and more light and warmth.
If this season brings sadness and darkness to your spirit do as Sarah advised, 'Blow on the coals of your heart" and let them burn bright and warm within you.
If this is the winter of your discontent then look to the day-blind stars, come into the peace of wild things and rest in the grace of the world and thus, even if it is just for the moment it takes to look at a tree in the yard, be free.
And if all else fails, I suppose we can always move to Australia.
Amen and Blessed be