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Monday, December 26, 2005

Day 2: Marcia Ellen's 12 Days of Christmas

Brug na Boine - Ireland - 2,000BCE

Near the bend of the river Boyne in what is now the county of Meath in Ireland, young Cathbad sits tending a large fire in the dead of night. Our calendar would place this night between the dates of December 20th and 21st - the winter solstice.

Cathbad has been performing this specific task for the past month, an important job. Keeping the flames alive means the sun, harbinger of all life, will be kept alive as well. Darkness will not permeate the Earth forever.

On this particular night, however, the entire village is awake as well. Cathbad watches as men and women dance to ancient music in an effort to bid the sun to return. Some wear carved masks, others shed tears as the energy of their dance strains emotions.

Many of Cathbad's family have spent the last night, the sixth day of the moon, gathering the mistletoe that has grown on the sacred oak trees. This rare and spiritual decoration would adorn the participants of this night's ritual as would the sprigs of evergreens.

Four priests, seated in front of the long house now stand and raise their hands. The dancing ends. In silence, family groups come together. Cathbad joins his father Ono and mother Miluchra. His older brother Tages and his younger sister, Aoifa carrying the baby, Geal, join them as well. At the signal from the priests, the families start walking slowly and silently toward the mound of Brug na Boine.

They file past the huge standing stones and Cathbad marvels at the dancing reflections his fire makes on the quartz outer wall of the mound. Moving around the entrance stone with its carved swirls, the community enters a passage that leads upward into the earth.

At the end of the passage, families sit huddled together in the middle of a large chamber. When everyone is inside, the priests mumble a few prayers and then there is nothing but darkness and silence. Only the muffled sounds made by small children and babies can be heard.Cathbad wonders if his fire has been enough to keep the sunlight alive. The minutes pass and you can feel the tension of the people surrounding you. Everyone’s eyes focus on the eternal blackness of the stone slab at the back of the chamber.

Consider the dark,

mysterious as the womb,

unvoiced as afterdeath.

Aoifa grasps Cathbad's hand.

Her fist tightens with impatience.

Suddenly, a single ray of sunlight strikes the slab.

A pinprick of light

wedges through gloom;

an iota of optimism;

a small speck of promise

maturing on a stone slab wall.

Ever so slowly it widens, much like the eyes of those beholding it.

Muffled reverberations of awe

strike the ear.

Speck grows to spot;

spot becomes splash;

light smothers the slab wall.

The light enters the dark womb of the earth, climbing upward, illuminating a number of mysterious carvings – circles, spirals and zigzagging patterns, all with significance to the families watching.

Shouts of appreciation

joyous dancing

God is rejoined.

Sighs of relief mix with the adulation as the light brings with it the promise of warmth and life to come.

The fact that this celebration does not take place on the 25th of December makes it no less a Christmas celebration. Festivals relating to Christmas as we celebrate it today have started as early as December 6th and as late as the middle of January. The promise of a new start is there, another chance, god is born again. Who could deny the premise of their delight?

Also present are intricate carvings and patterns, similar to the way we decorate our homes for the holidays. And leave us not overlook the use of sprigs of evergreen and mistletoe. The existence of plants and trees that did not succumb to the ravages of snow, sleet and freezing cold fascinated Cathbad's people. The were not only festive in appearance, but brought with their use the promise of immortality. They represented continuing life during the time of winter's sleep of death.

So you see, we celebrate the birth of the Son with the same joy of spirit that the ancients rejoiced in the rebirth of the sun. A familiar touch of the hand of the living God.

posted at 4:04:00 AM by Marcia Ellen

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