Solstice’s ancient customs still have meaning in the modern world

Tonight, the winter solstice, is the longest night of the year.

Yule, the traditional name for the winter solstice in most of pre-Christian Europe, still colors modern Decembers, though most have forgotten the meanings behind many of the traditions most now associate with Christmas.

The holiday associated with the death and rebirth of the sun was a fitting time for Christians to ultimately choose to celebrate the birth of the Son who would be resurrected, as one religious tradition replaced another. (Some religious scholars have postulated that Christ was actually born in the summer, possibly July.)

Still, direct remnants of old traditions remain alive in the form of Christmas trees, Yule logs, holly and ivy, and mistletoe.

Yule logs were originally lit in ancient times in order that the sun, in its waning, did not disappear entirely and night not overcome the world forever. As giver of life to the crops, upon which ancient people were dependent, the sun held a divine importance in the world, and its generative powers were revered and personified, along with the other dominant forces of nature, such as the moon. In many parts of ancient Europe, young maidens would sit upon the Yule log before it was lit, to ensure their fertility. The lighting of the Yule log signifies the return from darkness, the rebirth (or waxing) of the sun and a time for new beginnings.

The Christmas tree, or perhaps Yule tree, is thought to be a descendent of the Yule log, which was sometimes decorated with the face of the Green Man, or spirit of the wood. The Christmas tree, an evergreen, presented a living plant spirit, hardy in the deepest cold of winter. Bells were hung from its branches in reverence, and often sweets and other food treats added to feed the spirit.

Mistletoe, though poisonous, was sacred to the ancient Druids and was considered a plant of peace in Scandinavia, where, if two enemies met by chance under it in a forest, they were to lay down their weapons and leave each other without fighting.

More well known today is the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe, which is fun enough, but in days of old, the mistletoe was considered to impart a special magic of lasting love to the couple.

But there were conditions to the magic. With each kiss, a berry would be plucked. When the berries were gone, so was the magic. And, the berry-less mistletoe had to be burned 12 days after Yule, or it was thought the couples would not marry in the year to come. (Depending on who was under there, I suppose that might be a good thing. I have to wonder what the Druidic divorce rate was? And were there any legal altercations involving “breach of mistletoe contract”?)

The holly and the ivy are still a familiar pair to carolers and interior decorators, but their significance is more than just aesthetic. In times of old, the “Holly King,” carrying a wand of holly, and the “Ivy Queen,” carrying a wreath of ivy, of each household would have a ritual race every Yule. Depending on who crossed the threshold first, either the men or the women would rule the household for the coming year. (I could see a revival of this tradition becoming the motivation for many a cross-training plan—not a bad idea, in this age of epidemic obesity.)

At the end of the chase, it was traditional for the Ivy Queen to allow the Holly King to catch her, at which time she would throw her wreath over his wand, in a symbolic display of fertility. (Okay, the symbolism is obvious, but this is a family newspaper, so get your head out of the gutter. On the other hand, the rite was supposed to ensure fertility, so if the idea of holly and ivy gets you hot, you might want to grab your leafy counterpart, and celebrate an old-fashioned holiday privately. Like I said, this is a family newspaper, and we’re all for increasing families. Hey, we have to get our readers somewhere.)

All kidding aside, whatever one’s religion, Yule has some lessons for us all.

Yule, a festival of light, also parallels the time of Hanukkah, the Jewish holiday of lights. In the dark of winter, the importance of light, and the warmth and hope it brings, cannot be underestimated.

As the ebb point in the year, it is a time for renewal, for rest, followed by new beginnings—all-important thoughts for the holidays and the New Year.

By the logic of this ancient wisdom, this is the worst it gets—from here on in, all the bounty the world has to offer is on the increase, as the wheel turns to the new season, to the next page in the book of the world.

That is the magic of hope, something everyone of every faith, in any age, can always use.

(Originally published in The Easton News, December 21, 2006