Imagine yourself centuries ago in a climate zone not unlike that of Europe. Harvest time is long past; the winter is upon you. The temperature turns steadily colder, the days grow steadily shorter, and the nights grow steadily longer. It will likely be many months before the shoots of young plants come forth from the earth again. You are dependent upon what food you have stored from the fertile time of the year and upon which animals can be spared for slaughtered. With luck, you have enough fuel or tallow to provide light to brighten even part of the long, cold night. Travel, which is never good, is now worse than ever. You remain inside your home, attempt to keep warm, and wait for the sun to return. While you do, you sit around the hearth and tell stories, reflect, dream, or simply rest from the labors of the rest of the year.
While remembering what our ancestors did in centuries before the modern era gives us a sense of how important this time of year is, to really feel the archetypal power of the Rebirth of the Light at the Winter Solstice, we need to imagine a time much further back, back into the mists of prehistory. The time I ask us imagine is around 3,200 BCE, over five millennia ago. The place we are standing is a primeval forest near the Boyne River on the island that will be known as Ireland in later ages. On the neighboring island, later known as Britain, the great monument called Stonehenge won’t be erected for more than 500 years. Similarly, in the far more distant land of Egypt, the Pyramids won’t be begun for nearly as long. As for the Celtic peoples who would later dominate this island, they won’t arrive at this sacred place for another 2,500 years.
Were we standing in this deep forest more than 5,000 years before our own day, we would observe a massive construction project in progress in the middle of a clearing at the top of a tall hill that would later be called Newgrange. Our modern selves would fairly tower over the short and short-lived people building in this place. The average lifespan of these people is estimated at only 34 years, and yet they are engaged in the midst of a building project that will take about 80 years to reach completion. So it will be the grandchildren – perhaps even the great-grandchildren – of the people who began this monument who will finish and use it.
As we watch this construction project unfold, we find ourselves asking a range of questions. First there is the overarching mystery of why these ancient people are engaged in a project this immense when they had no writing system to record their plans and no way to direct the generations that would complete the project. Then there is the practical mystery of how the huge stones, boulders as big as a large car, were moved by stone-age people from quarries more than 50 miles away, over rough terrain, through deep forests, and finally up this hill. And why set those stones into this hilltop and then cover it over with earth to create a final mound more than an acre in diameter. And, of course, the largest question of all: What was it built for?
To answer that last question, I ask us to imagine coming back to this place a generation or two later, after the mound has been completed. We arrive on the eve of the winter solstice and find ourselves gathered together with chieftains, shamans, storytellers, midwives, and other members of the tribe. Chanting, we slowly process up the mound to the east-facing entrance of the shrine and continue down a long, dark passage into the center, to the chamber at the heart of the mound. There we wait in deathly silence as, outside — invisible to us entombed in the deep darkness of the earth — the sky slowly begins to brighten as the sun reaches the edge of the horizon.
Then slowly, as if by magic, a slender shaft of sunlight no thicker than a pencil begins to dispel the darkness of this earthen tomb. Gradually, over the course of about 20 minutes, the slender shaft of light broadens to a beam of brilliant sunshine bright enough to light up the entire central chamber. I wonder if we can even imagine the wonder and awe with which these people greeted this morning, the dawn of day when the Sun would once again begin to rise higher and higher in the sky. And with it, the miracle of life renewing itself for yet another year.
Archeologists estimate that Newgrange was probably in use for close to a thousand years before the stone passage was blocked by erosion and other natural disasters. It was rediscovered about 300 years ago and once again the sunrise on the morning of the winter solstice banishes the darkness from the inner chamber at Newgrange. And Newgrange, while it may be among the oldest, is far from the only monument of its kind. Similar solstice-oriented sites have been found at various locations in other parts of Europe, in Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and the Americas.
Clearly, the need to observe and ritualize the miracle of the Rebirth of the Light at the Winter Solstice has been significant for humankind far longer than any of the seasonal celebrations – including, of course, Christmas — that populate our calendar at this season. May this primeval and perennial urge to celebrate this time of the year with awe and wonder infuse your observances at this Winter Solstice!