Loving Yule

The altar has been erected with loving care, each item carrying meaning and intent.  Similarly, the hearth has been laid with care, the cauldron of gifts on the fireplace apron.  Witches gather and greet one another.

The priest sings incantations as he prepares salt, water, and incense.  During the course of the ritual, a newer coven member may stumble a bit on wording, but is quickly, gently, and lovingly righted on his footing by more experienced colleagues. The ritual unfolds seamlessly and gracefully.

We meditate on the year and the darkness.  All candles are extinguished.  Out of the darkness, a priestess lights the center Sun candle, then the other candles on the altar.  I am struck by the beauty of the poetry she speaks as she brings back the light.  A priest takes the flame from the altar candles and uses it to ignite the hearth fire.

We dance around the old year's dry wreath, chanting:  "Horned One, Lover, Sun, leaping in the corn, deep in the Mother, die and be reborn."  The priestess calls a drop and places the old wreath on the fire, where it roars and brightens the whole room.  In some years, this act elicits cheers.  This year, however, we gaze in silence -- contemplative, reflective, awestruck, warmed, renewed.  We see a bright year ahead

After some time of communal silence, we exchange gifts from the cauldron, each a surprise to the recipient.  We share culinary delights that each of us has brought to our common feasting.  We engage in sacred conversation -- sacred because it takes place within the sacred circle.

We are rewarded for our efforts and our honoring (or maybe not by our efforts) by the return of the Sun, without whose light we and the many beings with whom we share this glorious green egg cannot thrive.

I am sustained, nourished, renewed by the sharing of this annual rite.

Solstice blessings to all!  May your year be warm and bright like our burning wreath.

Midwinter Musing

On December 10th I attended one of MIC's quarterly retreat days. They haven't been going on for long, and I've managed to make it to most of them. I've mentioned them in this blog.

December's retreat, at Santa Sabina Center, was on theme of light and dark. The teachers were Rabbi Stacy Friedman from Congregation Rodef Shalom and the Rev. Tim Mooney from the Lloyd Center at SF Theological Seminary (Presbyterian). Tim's primary pursuit is painting; his "Winter Solstice" appears above.

The better part of the day at these retreats is spent in silence. Unless one has a regular practice of meditation, retreats are the only time most of us manage to take the time to do it. I find it very restorative.

Stacy opened by speaking of the candles of the menorah and of Hanukkah in general, and how glad she was that this year it occurred at a different time than Christmas. She mentioned a medieval debate between two rabbis. One rabbi thought all eight candles, plus the extra shamash candle, should be lit at the beginning of Hanukkah, with one being extinguished each night until there was only one light left. This memorializes the story of having only enough oil for eight nights, and then the light rant out. The other rabbi, Hillel, argued for light one more candle each nights so that the light grew. Most of us know that Rabbi Hillel's practice was adopted.

In the morning, before we retreated into silence, we were each asked to think about what we might be looking for and what we might bring to the retreat. These were not spoken. I decided I was looking for models of eldership as they have manifested in other religions and religious communities. I considered that I brought to this forum a freshness due to the fact that our Pagan religions are 'new,' and an openness to learning.

We remained in silence until mid-afternoon. Art supplies were available for those who wished to explore with those media. We could roam the grounds, the courtyard, the chapel, the library, the 'pillow room,' the 'rose room' and all the other spaces at Santa Sabina that were neither administrative nor lodging.

During the feedback portion after we broke our silence, several participants spokes of profound revelations they'd experienced, from the time spent in silence, from the painting Tim brought out towards the end, and from the words spoken by the two instructors and other participants. This very dark painting portrayed a faceless naked woman holding a small bright candle just beneath her belly. The flame illuminated her belly and forearms, and radiated out to show her form and nothing more. She could have been standing anywhere.

I offered that we Pagans are concerned with honoring cycles: the cycles of life and the seasonal cycles, all kinds of cycles. That we assemble eight times a year to celebrate the turning of the Wheel together; that four of those sacred dates were at the points of the solar year, the Solstices and the Equinoxes. I said that at this time of year I considered that on Midwinter eve we began to sit vigil with the Great Mother -- Mary, if you will -- as she was going into the world of spirit on this longest night of the year to retrieve another soul, that of her divine son, to bring him safely to this plane of existence. I said we tell stories, sing, bake cookies, sit around the hearth fire, as we honor her during her hours of labor to give birth. Then before dawn we go outside onto the hills to sing and rejoice at the Sun's rebirth.

Later, after the retreat was over, several people told me how much they appreciated that perspective and loved the story. The director of MIC told me how glad they were to have a Pagan presence and that, when other interfaith groups learned of this, how 'cool' they thought that was. "Cool" is an exact quote.

What did I come away with, you might ask? I came to realize, yet again, that I really know more than I think I know, and that we Pagans have much to bring to a mutually respectful interfaith environment.

So I offer this story to readers. May all enjoy a splendid return of the Sun and a healthy, happy, prosperous and green New Year!