Advent 21 – 21 December 2021
Greetings,
Today is the Winter Solstice, the day with the least daylight in the year, and the longest night, the longest time of darkness. For much of human history, this feature of our planetary life has led to rituals and festivals often in sacred spaces designed around the solstices. Neolithic sites such as Newgrange in Ireland, and Maeshowe on Orkney have inner chambers which are lit at sunrise on the winter solstice. Many of our other winter festivals in the northern hemisphere, such as Christmas, have adapted midwinter ideas and imagery: light in darkness, the turning of the year, a risen star.
Four years ago I took this picture on the winter solstice of the St Andrews skyline (though I was there for less than religious reasons, playing golf on the Eden Course):
Our Honorary Pagan Chaplain offered a candlelit labyrinth last year on the Winter Solstice, the opportunity to walk a path of light on the longest night, in what was the first winter during the Covid pandemic. We’re doing it again this year. Along with a number of volunteers Kitty will be laying out the labyrinth in the gardens beside the School of Economics on the Scores. All are welcome, from 4.30 – 9 pm. As it says in the Events page on the University website https://events.st-andrews.ac.uk/events/walk-a-path-of-light-on-the-longest-night-2/
A labyrinth remains an appropriate metaphor for the Covid-19 pandemic, where it is clear that we all have a path to follow, but it isn’t at all obvious how far we have to go, or when and where we might reach the exit. The labyrinth will be laid out and lit by candles in bags on the ground. Folk walk it in silence. It is simply a beautiful way to think about anything you like, walking along a path of light on the longest night of the year. It is appropriate for all age groups, and might be of particular interest to families with children. No booking necessary; dress warmly.
This is an image from last year:
And to conclude, a poem by Douglas Dunn, Emeritus Professor in our School of English, from his volume Elegies. This book reflects on the death of his first wife Lesley Balfour in 1981. The following poem expresses his loss in the intensity of midwinter weather, cold slumbers, a red sun in a dark tree “praying from the earth upward”, a psalm in nature.
December
“No, don’t stop writing your grievous poetry.
It will do you good, this work of your grief.
Keep writing until there is nothing left.
It will take time, and the years will go by.”
Ours was a gentle generation, pacific,
In love with music, art and restaurants,
And he with she, strolling among the canvases,
And she with him, at concerts, coats on their laps.
Almost all of us were shy when we were young.
No friend of ours had ever been to war.
So many telephone numbers, remembered addresses;
So many things to remember.
The red sun hangs in a black tree, a moist
Exploded zero, bleeding into the trees
Praying from the earth upward, a psalm
In wood and light, in sky, earth and water.
These bars of birdsong come from another world;
They ring in the air like little doorbells.
They go by quickly, our best florescent selves
As good as summer and in love with being.
Reality, I remember you as her soft kiss
At morning. You were her presence beside me.
The red sun drips its molten dusk. Wet fires
Embrace the barren orchards, these gardens in
A city of cold slumbers. I am trapped in it.
It is December. The town is part of my mourning
And I, too, am part of whatever it grieves for.
Whose tears are these, pooled on this cellophane?
Yours,
Donald.
Revd Dr Donald MacEwan
Chaplain