by Mara Richards Bim
With the Winter Solstice on December 21st, those of us in the Northern Hemisphere mark the longest night of the year and the beginning of three months of winter.
December’s long, dark nights and winter’s cold embrace are welcomed by some, while others find this month terribly lonely. In December especially, capitalism’s commercialization of Christmas can be nauseating and overwhelming even for Christians. For those of different faith traditions or none at all, the month can feel downright oppressive. And for many, this December brings an added layer of political fears, anxieties and despair as we collectively wait to see what the new administration brings in January.
Against this backdrop, I have been thinking a great deal about the 16th century Spanish mystic, St. John of the Cross, who is best known for his poem Dark Night of the Soul. In contemplative Christianity, this poem provides an archetypal pattern for the soul’s journey as it unites with God. The steps of the religious mystical journey involve purgation (releasing unhelpful beliefs), illumination (recognizing the divine light that is always burning) and union (actualizing self-discovery and oneness with God).
At a more concrete level, a spiritual sojourner experiences some kind of spiritual disruption. Within that disruption, the traveler feels spiritually lost and is thrust into a dark night. As they stumble through the metaphorical darkness, their limited understandings of self and of God begin to crumble. They may feel lost and abandoned by God, but if they are willing to be still in the darkness, to breathe, to pray and to open to what is unfolding, they find that just at the moment they think they are at rock bottom, the spiritual pain breaks. They see the Divine light within them and around them and they feel God’s presence. This recognition of the Divine brings introspection and an inner peace.
Across contemplative spiritual traditions, there is an understanding that spiritual sojourners will experience something akin to dark nights throughout life’s journey. It isn’t a one-and-done deal. As we travel life’s road, we are constantly in the process of spiritual transformation. True spiritual transformation occurs when we (often not by choice) are led to release our false notions about the Divine. We are awakened to something and embrace a deeper sense of knowing.
For those of us who find ourselves in a dark night this December, the sitting, breathing, waiting and praying can feel like one more thing on the to-do list. But our various faith traditions have rituals, practices and celebrations that honor winter’s long, dark nights. We can lean into those traditions to ground us when we feel unmoored.
This year, the Jewish celebration of Hanukkah and the Christian celebration of Christmastide overlap. In the Christian tradition, Christmastide (also known as the 12 days of Christmas) begins at sunset on December 24th and goes until sunset on January 5th. The twelve days lead up to the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6th when Christians traditionally commemorate the “theophany” or appearance of God to humankind.
Hanukkah (Chanukah) begins at sunset December 25th and goes until sunset January 2nd. The eight-day festival of lights commemorates the 2nd century BCE triumph of the Maccabees over the Seleucids (Syrian-Greeks) to reclaim and rededicate the Holy Temple in Jerusalem to God. The menorah is lit nightly for eight nights to remember God’s blessing and the miracle of one night’s supply of oil lasting for eight nights.
Agrarian cultures across time also show us ways to ground ourselves in the dark nights. The Winter Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere begins the Pagan celebration of Yule which runs from December 21 – January 1. Yule is a time for celebrating the end of the harvest and the beginning of a new cycle of life. It is a time for turning inward, for reflection.
One truism across time, culture and religion is that darkness and light are both created by God and are integral to our experience as part of God’s creation. In this solstice season of darkness and light, may you find God’s presence in both, and thereby find comfort and strength.