Monday, December 20
Let the sun shine
Tonight's the longest night of the year here on the edge of nowhere. There's plenty of empty black void up there in space tonight, only the brightest stars beaming through the town's twinkling holiday glow and the passing wind-blown clouds, the belt holding up Orion's starry disco pants in the eastern sky, the biggest of the Dipper stars hugging the northern sky, the partial moon floating high and sinking over the western mountains around 1:30 a.m.
The sun hasn't been very high in the sky the past few days, nor will it be for the next few days here at 40.43 degrees north. It looks like its stalled down by the southern horizon, spending a little holiday at the warm southern beaches (and who can blame it?). And we're not even half-way to the north pole. The 45 degree line is up in Yellowstone somewhere, Connor and I saw a sign this summer when we drove back from Washington state. I can't imagine what those of you north of here must endure during these darkest weeks of December, particularly the canyon dwellers in my brother's family.
Nine hours and 17 minutes of sunshine out here today, the sun rising at 7:18 a.m. to its set at 4:35 p.m. That leaves how much darkness kids? Right: 14 hours and 42 minutes. I suspect I'll have no trouble sleeping tonight. (Of course, if you're down under, it's the summer solstice you're celebrating probably with your own trip to the beach [say hi to Sol for us, mate] and some Fosters as your days begin to grow shorter and your nights longer….)
But we're up here in the cold inky winter. And so tonight we'll light candles to ward off the darkness, and flip the switch to turn on the lights adorning our house and Christmas (Solstice?) tree. While others celebrate the birth of the son, I'll be celebrating the rebirth of the sun. It's the same, if you ask me, a recognition of the long winter night and the joyful looking forward to the new solar year, to the fresh start, to living right and to hoping the sun comes back. (We're also post-moderns, so we know with as much certainty we can raise that the precise moment of the 2004 solstice will be tomorrow morning, Tuesday, December 21, at 5:42 A.M. MST. I'm sure Westley will wake us up by then, if Ruth Ann hasn't start her predawn whining first.)
Of course cultures around the world have performed solstice ceremonies for thousands of years, probably because of some ancient fear that the Sun (son?) god would never return unless humans intervened with gifts to the gods or some serious old school partying. Some say the Mesopotamians (in the news these days because of the Iraq war) were first with a 12-day festival of renewal, designed to help the god Marduk tame the monsters of chaos for one more year (sounds like Marduk could use some help again this year). But they probably get credit because there were among the first smart enough to learn to write stuff down and store it in a format that could be deciphered years later by British guys in pith helmets.
Neolithic people -- the first farmers, just like those who grow corn, beans, beets and onions around here -- probably kept a close eye on the big wheel in the sky (it keeps on turning) so they could better track the seasons and the cycles of planting and harvesting (the corn here is still too wet to harvest, although Jared reports its [scientific-type number measuring water content] is now 16.). One assumes they watched the movement of the moon (as it would be easier to track) and perhaps they celebrated the sun, too, with fertility rites, with fire festivals, with offerings and prayers to their gods and goddesses, with tiny plastic red-and-green cartoony action figures with their burger meals. And perhaps, our need to hold onto certain traditions today -- candles, wreaths, yule logs, cookies, Christmas cards, letters to Santa (please O please Kris bring me the sun! and a case of Fosters!) and the ever-popular gift-giving -- are DNA-level memories of our shared human past.
We can go on at this forever: lighting fires and bringing winter greenery indoors in order to persuade the sun to return with its warmth had their origin in the ancient Roman Festival of Saturn (the Sun). Northern Europeans -- my people, up there on that brutal northwest coast of Norway -- celebrated December festivals in honor of the Sun God with dancing, feasting and gift giving. The Scandinavians called it the time of yule. The Christmas tree had its origin in the Druid worship of oak and mistletoe. Don't forget Stonehenge. Or Carhenge. Or the hundreds of other ginormous structures throughout the world built to the solstices and the equinoxes. In North America, one of the most famous sites might be the Sun Dagger of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico, built a thousand years ago by The People, ancestors of the Puebloans of today and even of those ancients who built the cliff-side luxary homes at Mesa Verde (from the low $150s!). The Chumash, who occupied coastal California (my old stomping grounds) for thousands of years before the Europeans arrived, marked the winter Solstice with celebrations lasting several days, just as our kids mark it with a two-week vacation from school!
They might all be amused, and pleased too, to see that we're still celebrating the sun but in our own traditional ways: endless high-rotation plan of sappy pop songs, web-controlled animated front-yard spectacles, 12-days of Christmas sales, iconic characters like Rudolph and Frosty, beloved stop-action-motion television shows, cool Snoopy-based holiday jazz, associated villains like the Grinch and Scrooge, Kwanzaa and, my perhaps my favorite, Santa-filled Christmas stockings.
And what of Hanukkah, the Jewish Festival of Lights that occurs around this time every year? Is it related to other celebrations of the season? As I understand it, and correct me if I’m wrong, Hanukkah is tied to both the lunar and solar calendars. It begins on the 25th of Kislev, three days before the new moon closest to the Winter Solstice (and, as a result, the darkest [no moon] of the dark [longest] nights). It also commemorates an historic event -- the Maccabees' victory over the Greeks and the rededication of the temple at Jerusalem (it says here the Maccabbees won with a three-pointer at the buzzer in the second overtime).
Again, I may be wrong, but it says on the internet that Jewish tradition does not celebrate the military victory so much as the miracle of the lamp lit in the Temple that burned for eight days on a single bottle of oil: dude, there it is again, the lighting of candles against the darkness, the rekindling of hope and dedication in a dark time (and you know everything on the internet is true!!! [<---those are for you, Krell]). I like this idea a lot. The light in darkness. This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine. I am. And with those eight candles at the heart of the ritual, Hanukkah is wonderfully compatible with creating light to bring the sun back.
So, yes, the winter solstice signifies a natural time of transition and renewal. On these days, when daylight is at its shortest and the commercial pressure to celebrate "traditional" patriarchal televised advertised family Christmases (do it all! now! hurry up! and enjoy it, dammit!) is at its highest, take a moment to reflect and settle in the darkness for a few moments. Seek (ye) the light in you, and in the future, that calls to us as we celebrate gifts of light (the sun), of joy (the family) and (wished for) peace on earth.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.
The sun hasn't been very high in the sky the past few days, nor will it be for the next few days here at 40.43 degrees north. It looks like its stalled down by the southern horizon, spending a little holiday at the warm southern beaches (and who can blame it?). And we're not even half-way to the north pole. The 45 degree line is up in Yellowstone somewhere, Connor and I saw a sign this summer when we drove back from Washington state. I can't imagine what those of you north of here must endure during these darkest weeks of December, particularly the canyon dwellers in my brother's family.
Nine hours and 17 minutes of sunshine out here today, the sun rising at 7:18 a.m. to its set at 4:35 p.m. That leaves how much darkness kids? Right: 14 hours and 42 minutes. I suspect I'll have no trouble sleeping tonight. (Of course, if you're down under, it's the summer solstice you're celebrating probably with your own trip to the beach [say hi to Sol for us, mate] and some Fosters as your days begin to grow shorter and your nights longer….)
But we're up here in the cold inky winter. And so tonight we'll light candles to ward off the darkness, and flip the switch to turn on the lights adorning our house and Christmas (Solstice?) tree. While others celebrate the birth of the son, I'll be celebrating the rebirth of the sun. It's the same, if you ask me, a recognition of the long winter night and the joyful looking forward to the new solar year, to the fresh start, to living right and to hoping the sun comes back. (We're also post-moderns, so we know with as much certainty we can raise that the precise moment of the 2004 solstice will be tomorrow morning, Tuesday, December 21, at 5:42 A.M. MST. I'm sure Westley will wake us up by then, if Ruth Ann hasn't start her predawn whining first.)
Of course cultures around the world have performed solstice ceremonies for thousands of years, probably because of some ancient fear that the Sun (son?) god would never return unless humans intervened with gifts to the gods or some serious old school partying. Some say the Mesopotamians (in the news these days because of the Iraq war) were first with a 12-day festival of renewal, designed to help the god Marduk tame the monsters of chaos for one more year (sounds like Marduk could use some help again this year). But they probably get credit because there were among the first smart enough to learn to write stuff down and store it in a format that could be deciphered years later by British guys in pith helmets.
Neolithic people -- the first farmers, just like those who grow corn, beans, beets and onions around here -- probably kept a close eye on the big wheel in the sky (it keeps on turning) so they could better track the seasons and the cycles of planting and harvesting (the corn here is still too wet to harvest, although Jared reports its [scientific-type number measuring water content] is now 16.). One assumes they watched the movement of the moon (as it would be easier to track) and perhaps they celebrated the sun, too, with fertility rites, with fire festivals, with offerings and prayers to their gods and goddesses, with tiny plastic red-and-green cartoony action figures with their burger meals. And perhaps, our need to hold onto certain traditions today -- candles, wreaths, yule logs, cookies, Christmas cards, letters to Santa (please O please Kris bring me the sun! and a case of Fosters!) and the ever-popular gift-giving -- are DNA-level memories of our shared human past.
We can go on at this forever: lighting fires and bringing winter greenery indoors in order to persuade the sun to return with its warmth had their origin in the ancient Roman Festival of Saturn (the Sun). Northern Europeans -- my people, up there on that brutal northwest coast of Norway -- celebrated December festivals in honor of the Sun God with dancing, feasting and gift giving. The Scandinavians called it the time of yule. The Christmas tree had its origin in the Druid worship of oak and mistletoe. Don't forget Stonehenge. Or Carhenge. Or the hundreds of other ginormous structures throughout the world built to the solstices and the equinoxes. In North America, one of the most famous sites might be the Sun Dagger of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico, built a thousand years ago by The People, ancestors of the Puebloans of today and even of those ancients who built the cliff-side luxary homes at Mesa Verde (from the low $150s!). The Chumash, who occupied coastal California (my old stomping grounds) for thousands of years before the Europeans arrived, marked the winter Solstice with celebrations lasting several days, just as our kids mark it with a two-week vacation from school!
They might all be amused, and pleased too, to see that we're still celebrating the sun but in our own traditional ways: endless high-rotation plan of sappy pop songs, web-controlled animated front-yard spectacles, 12-days of Christmas sales, iconic characters like Rudolph and Frosty, beloved stop-action-motion television shows, cool Snoopy-based holiday jazz, associated villains like the Grinch and Scrooge, Kwanzaa and, my perhaps my favorite, Santa-filled Christmas stockings.
And what of Hanukkah, the Jewish Festival of Lights that occurs around this time every year? Is it related to other celebrations of the season? As I understand it, and correct me if I’m wrong, Hanukkah is tied to both the lunar and solar calendars. It begins on the 25th of Kislev, three days before the new moon closest to the Winter Solstice (and, as a result, the darkest [no moon] of the dark [longest] nights). It also commemorates an historic event -- the Maccabees' victory over the Greeks and the rededication of the temple at Jerusalem (it says here the Maccabbees won with a three-pointer at the buzzer in the second overtime).
Again, I may be wrong, but it says on the internet that Jewish tradition does not celebrate the military victory so much as the miracle of the lamp lit in the Temple that burned for eight days on a single bottle of oil: dude, there it is again, the lighting of candles against the darkness, the rekindling of hope and dedication in a dark time (and you know everything on the internet is true!!! [<---those are for you, Krell]). I like this idea a lot. The light in darkness. This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine. I am. And with those eight candles at the heart of the ritual, Hanukkah is wonderfully compatible with creating light to bring the sun back.
So, yes, the winter solstice signifies a natural time of transition and renewal. On these days, when daylight is at its shortest and the commercial pressure to celebrate "traditional" patriarchal televised advertised family Christmases (do it all! now! hurry up! and enjoy it, dammit!) is at its highest, take a moment to reflect and settle in the darkness for a few moments. Seek (ye) the light in you, and in the future, that calls to us as we celebrate gifts of light (the sun), of joy (the family) and (wished for) peace on earth.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Comments:
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Eric--Sol Invictus, the Invincible Sun, was the Roman holiday, right?
It's true that for a variety of reasons Jews stress the light-against-the-darkness aspects of Hanukkah over the military victory. I've heard: 1) there were actually Jews on both sides (our usual tradition vs. assimilation fight, with the equally usual oversimplifications associated with those terms); 2) that the Hasmoneans (descendants of military hero Judah Maccabee) were wretched, corrupt rulers who we'd rather forget; and that 3) the bit with the oil isn't even mentioned in the account of the battle, which is included (the Books of Maccabees) in the Catholic apocrypha--the extra books in the Roman Catholic Bible. As usual, political reality is much uglier than a morality story.
If I'm not mistaken, any connection between Hanukkah's dates and the Gregorian calendar are coincidental. I happens the same time every Jewish calendrical cycle.
See you guys soon--I'm anonymous because I don't want to have to remember another password.--Jon
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It's true that for a variety of reasons Jews stress the light-against-the-darkness aspects of Hanukkah over the military victory. I've heard: 1) there were actually Jews on both sides (our usual tradition vs. assimilation fight, with the equally usual oversimplifications associated with those terms); 2) that the Hasmoneans (descendants of military hero Judah Maccabee) were wretched, corrupt rulers who we'd rather forget; and that 3) the bit with the oil isn't even mentioned in the account of the battle, which is included (the Books of Maccabees) in the Catholic apocrypha--the extra books in the Roman Catholic Bible. As usual, political reality is much uglier than a morality story.
If I'm not mistaken, any connection between Hanukkah's dates and the Gregorian calendar are coincidental. I happens the same time every Jewish calendrical cycle.
See you guys soon--I'm anonymous because I don't want to have to remember another password.--Jon
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