Winter Solstice: The Long Night ENCORE

Today, the 20th of December, is one of the two darkest days of the year. Right now, we in the Northern Hemisphere are experiencing our annual solar minimum. Every day since the Summer Solstice in June the Earth’s axial tilt and orbit have inched the sun further south in the sky. Sunlight has shortened and our days have grown cold. From our vantage point on Earth, the sun is dying more and more with the passing of each day. It is a weird thing, watching the sun die. But tomorrow, the 21st, is the Winter Solstice.

On the Winter Solstice, the sun reaches its lowest point in the sky. Ever since Earth’s axis became tilted some 4.5 billion years ago this day has also marked the sun’s rebirth. Starting on the 22nd, the sun’s path in the sky will reverse its course and begin inching northwards. From our vantage point on Earth, the sun will be growing stronger and our days growing warmer (on a thermal lag of course). It is an exciting thing, watching the birthing of the sun.

My life has always been tied with the sun’s journey in the sky. I rise and fall with it. Anyone who knows me can attest that I am a summer child through and through. I camp, hike, swim, and paddleboard all summer long. My commitment to long summer days and warm evenings is so deep that I keep swim trunks in my car if ever the occasion to swim arises. My swimmers are accompanied by a towel, sunscreen, sunflower seeds, and of course my hammock.

It is no surprise then that winter has always been a low time for me. Growing up I always remember slumping into a kind of hibernation. As the color and vibrancy fell out of the world, it also fell out of mine. Seasonal Affect Disorder is a real thing. I would watch old surf films like Endless Summer or A Broke Down Melody to keep the embers of summer alive in my heart. But the loss of calloused feet and suntans would wear me down. The first signs of Spring would reignite my inner summer as I would hunt the world for budding leaves and warm sidewalks.

The great cosmic irony that is lost on no one is that today, one of the two darkest days of the year, is also my birthday. So it is no clever turn of phrase to say that my life has been tied to the sun’s journey through the sky. When I took my first breaths the Earth was literally as low in the sky as it could possibly get. The way the Gregorian calendar works, the Winter Solstice can fall anywhere from the 20th to the 23rd of December. Meaning that I age exactly with a complete seasonal orbit of the Earth around the sun. The sun is a cosmic older twin in some sense. We are born only hours apart.

Over time, I slowly grew an appreciation for winter things. Watching snow gently fall at night from the coziness of my bed. Christmas Lord of the Rings marathons. Homemade ginger drinks and chicken noodle soup. Wool socks, sweatpants, and billowing sweaters. Snow hikes and hot chocolate. Winter exists because it must. And there is beauty in it.

But this winter hits different. What a year it has been. The shit 2020 has delivered to us could fill volumes. So I will spare you the details which can be found elsewhere. For many, myself included, this will the be first holiday season spent without family. A pandemic still rages around us left nearly unchecked by our failure as a community to stand under it. This year I won’t get to celebrate my birthday with most of my family, even though they live less than 10 miles from me. At least I can still celebrate with the sun.

This time of year, Solstice included, is celebrated by many all over the world. For most of us, it is Christmas time. A season of advent. A season of celebrating the birth of Jesus into the world, or perhaps better said from the world. Jesus was born from a human woman and clothed, as we all are, in the elements of this Earth. His body, like ours, was made from iron-rich blood, salty tears, and skin so sensitive you can feel it tingle if you pay attention.

Jesus has many titles. My favorite, which is often read with the Nativity story, is Emmanuel which means God with us. I fear by focusing so much on the cosmic nature of this event, we lost focus on the deeply fleshy and earthy importance. We often think Jesus’ role is to save us all by changing God’s mind about fallen humanity. But, along with Richard Rohr, I think Jesus’ role is just the opposite. Jesus’ whole life was an act of radical solidarity with humanity. From first breath into an impoverished family to last breath crucified. Jesus came to change our minds about God.

Especially in a year like 2020 we need to believe, not just in our minds, but in our bones that God stands in radical solidarity with us. And he always has. Before Jesus was born 2000 years ago, God flooded the birthing universe with the Light of Christ. For over 14 billion years, God has been in solidarity with reality. The person of Jesus, rather than being an invading divine force from somewhere outside reality, emerges from reality.

This is a powerful reframing of the Nativity story. In a future podcast episode, we will further tease out the power of this reality. But for now, let us sit with this. Jesus emerged from a Universe and Earth already saturated with divine light. For billions of years, God has been co-experiencing reality right alongside it. And in Jesus, this cosmic story becomes personal and human.

This holiday season — still deep in a pandemic and long solstice nights — let this story transform how you hold reality and your place within it. You are a piece of this vast cosmological story. You belong. As well, let this story transform how you stand with your neighbor and planetary co-inhabitants. Stand not in judgment but in solidarity with those around you. Hear their stories and make their experiences yours. Be with us.

I’ll finish with a beautiful quote from Ilia Delio, a Franciscan Sister who has written many books and holds the Josephine C Connelly Endowed Chair in Theology at Villanova University.