Yule Ritual

Celebration for Yule, the Winter Solstice

Opening Poem

Suggested reading: “Air and Water in Darkness” by Juan Ramón Jiménez

The Winter Solstice and the Meaning of Yule

Twice a year, the Earth reaches the balance point between day and night. On those days, the equinoxes, we celebrate the life-sustaining cycles of light and dark and reflect on the turning wheel of life and death. When the day and the night are of equal length, we are reminded of the equality of all living things—for they are all aspects of Gaea, our living world. We celebrate with flame, whether the flicker of candlelight or the roar of a bonfire, to remind us of the energy of the sun and the creative spark of the cosmos beyond.

Twice a year, too, the Earth transitions from lightness into darkness and then darkness into light. On these days, the solstices, we pause again, to celebrate the lesson the Earth teaches us: that all things are temporary and that change is inevitable. The winter solstice comes at a time of cold and darkness, of shortening days and lengthening nights.

At Yule, our celebration of the winter solstice, we are reminded that no matter how dark it gets, the light always returns. The night will always end and a new day will always begin. Life is often a struggle; we grasp and slip, fight and fail, win then lose. But hope, like the light, is always present, if we have the presence of mind to find it.

We are at the year’s closing; as the wheel turns around us, the days will now grow longer and longer until we are once again spiraling beneath the late sun at Litha, the celebration of the summer solstice. Even though we look to the light with hope and anticipation, we must remember that we need winter’s long dark nights. They are the time for us to turn inward, to reflect, and to renew ourselves so that we might be capable of fulfilling our role in this world in the year to come.

Today is the beginning of the waxing half of the year; from now until the summer solstice the day will lengthen and night will shorten. Today marks the re-birth of light into our world, with the promise that winter will come to an end. Now we shed our fears and worries and celebrate all that is and all that will be, the ideas and projects we have brought to fruition, the joys and sorrows that have grown from the seeds we planted.

As we walk the spiral, let us think about what it is we want to celebrate about this year. What do we hope to bring into our lives next year? What do we hope to let go of? What attitudes and actions did not serve us in the last year? Where do we need to forgive ourselves and others to make peace with past hurts? In the darkness of winter, what do we want to learn, to create, to nurture? This is the dream of Yule, to honor all that we have made manifest in our lives, and to begin again in joy and peace.

Walking the Spiral

In the greatest darkness   The light is reborn
Out of winter’s cold   The light is reborn
From our deepest fears   The light is reborn
When we most despair   The light is reborn
When all seems lost   The light is reborn
When the earth lies waste   The light is reborn
When animals hide   The light is reborn
When the leaves are gone   The light is reborn
When the river is frozen   The light is reborn
When the ground is hard   The light is reborn
Shadows are fleeing   The light is reborn
Light is returning   The light is reborn
Warmth will come again   The light is reborn
Summer will be here once more   The light is reborn
Plants will grow again   The light is reborn
Animals will be seen once more   The light is reborn
Green will come again   The light is reborn
Life will continue   The light is reborn

(Repeat until all have completed the spiral walk.)

Candle Lighting

I light this candle in the name of the Ancestors, the Guardians, and all the holy ones who walk the world. May its light guide all the kindly spirits to bless this place.

I light this candle in the name of learning. May its flame remind us to look towards the unknown with curiosity and an open mind.

I light this candle in the name of creativity. May its glow inspire us and give us the confidence to share our true selves with the world.

I light this candle in the name of friendship. May its light continue to bring us together, so that we might offer each other joy, comfort, and company.

I light this candle in the name of the sun. May its flame warm our winter nights and remind us of the ever-returning summer.

I light this candle in the name of the Earth. May it illuminate our path through the coming year and remind us to walk with peace and compassion for all Gaea’s children.

Closing Poem

Suggested reading: “Burning the Old Year” by Naomi Shihab Nye

Pagan Paths

Since starting this blog, I’ve discovered that what I call “Scientific Paganism” is akin to other spiritual paths classed under the umbrella term “non-theistic paganism,” such as Naturalistic Paganism (or Pagan Naturalism) and Atheopaganism. These are Earth-based spiritualities that eschew belief (or “faith”) in supernatural entities or occult powers that defy the generally accepted laws of physics while still finding value in ritual behavior and deep, purposeful exploration of the human spirit. The same impulses that lead people to monotheist or polytheist religions are also present in those who have rejected the very idea of the “supernatural,” i.e., beings or forces that somehow exist outside, above, or beyond the natural world or the cosmos surrounding it.

My view is that, even if cosmic-level sentient entities were proved to exist, they would still be part of the natural order of the universe, and science would expand its horizons to accommodate them. This process has already occurred, as when Albert Einstein was freaked out by the notion of “spooky action at a distance,” only for it to go on to become the respectable scientific principle of quantum entanglement. There are many things about the universe that we do not yet understand and much more to be discovered. But there’s no need to carve out a privileged space that’s exempt from rationality where “and then a miracle happened” is an acceptable explanation. So in religion, as in science, the “supernatural” is, in fact, superfluous.

Rather than wasting time arguing with intractable “true believers,” non-theistic pagans prefer to take a skeptical attitude toward all unsupportable assertions and a practical approach to ritual. They value creativity over adherence to dogma. They generally celebrate or revere the Earth itself, the existence of which does not need to be debated. In this way, they get to the heart of religion and the psychological benefits it confers without building around it an elaborate house of cards that must be defended at all costs. Whatever terms such Neo-Pagans are most comfortable describing themselves with, they share a similar approach to honoring that which gives us life and the wondrous cosmos that we all inhabit.

Samhain Intro

Samhain (the ‘mh’ makes a ‘w’ sound) is the name of a major Celtic feast that can be traced back to early medieval sources, held on November 1st. In the British Isles it marked the beginning of the winter season, though in America we find ourselves at mid-autumn at this time due to climatic differences. According to historian Ronald Hutton in his 1996 book The Stations of the Sun, Samhain was the ideal time for the year’s most important tribal assemblies: the harvest had been completed, the livestock brought in from the pastures, and the normal seasons for warfare and trading closed. Thus, royalty, warriors, and peasants alike had some extra time on their hands. As such, it was the perfect setting for numerous tales involving encounters with gods and monsters. Like Beltane, which lies at the opposite point on the Wheel of the Year, Samhain was “a particularly numinous time,” during which “fairies and witches were especially active, and magical devices required to guard against them” (pp. 365–366). In time, the medieval Christian Church overlaid this festival with its feast of the dead, which brought with it its own arcane associations. The modern Samhain, then, along with the associated celebration of Halloween, is a hybrid of these ancient Celtic and Christian traditions.

Even so, being the time of year when leaves are dropping from the trees and flowers wither, it seems appropriate that the theme of Samhain celebrations should be “Death”—not as something to be warded off or feared but acknowledged as an integral part of life’s cycles. It is a time to remember our ancestors—and all those who came before us—and to reflect on how their paths influenced ours. We can tell their stories, and honor them for what they did and what they tried to do. Likewise, we can reflect on how we hope to be remembered by those who will come after us, and thereby to remind ourselves that our lives are but one step in the spiral path of the human race and, beyond that, in the journey of our living world, the Earth. Death comes to all things, perhaps even the universe itself, and being mindful of that can help us keep life’s difficulties and disappointments in perspective. Even in the darkest quarter of the year, when the world looks as if it were dying around us, we can set aside a night to celebrate our own spiral path.

Samhain Ritual

Celebration for Samhain, the Autumn Festival

Opening Poem

Suggested reading: “Door in the Mountain” by Jean Valentine

The Autumn Festival and the Meaning of Samhain

We have gathered here to celebrate Samhain, the year’s third and final harvest festival. Samhain also marks the end of the annual cycle of birth, growth, harvest, and death. The Wheel of the Year turns, moving us forward into the quiet darkness, where our seeds slumber until being reborn into the light of spring. We, too, look forward to the blessings of the year to come. But before we move on, we pause to look back and honor all that we have lost in the last year, whether it be someone who was dear to us, some task at which we did not succeed or a wish that did not come to pass, opportunities missed, relationships ended, or anything that causes sorrow from its loss. Tonight, as the veil between worlds grows thin, we will let go of all of these, leaving us free to pass on, at peace and without regrets.

At this time, we honor the ancestors of our blood. The generations of human beings who walked this Earth before us, who, in the living of their lives, forged a link in the chain that brought us into existence. Some of these ancestors are known to us. They are our parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, siblings, cousins, and kin. We cherish our memories of their lives and the time we spent with them, no matter how fleeting. Many more ancestors are unknown to us. Though we may not know their names or faces, we recognize them, too, as kin. We are all part of the great tree of life that stretches back through time to our common human ancestor.

At this time, we honor the ancestors of this land. Those who lived in this place before us, who loved in this place before us, who struggled, and fought, and laughed, and celebrated in this place before us. The richness of their lives enriches this place still, blessing us daily. We recognize, too, that our presence here is the result of a long history of violence and injustice. While we did not participate in these tragedies, we benefit from them. We cannot undo the pain of the past, but we can honor the suffering and sacrifice of those who lived through it. As we honor them, we honor this place. As we care for this place, we care for them. In doing so, we become connected to the ancestors of this land, and they become part of us.

At this time, we honor the ancestors of the traditions that speak to us, that call to us and claim us as their own. We do so not to appropriate or diminish these traditions but to honor the truth they contain. Perhaps our recognition of these truths reflects an echoing of ancestors long past and cultures long forgotten. Buried deep in our bones, these sacred beliefs become restless within us, urging us toward the greater truths of the universe and the Earth we inhabit. As we honor these ancestors, we ask them to continue to walk with us, inspiring us to deeper understandings of ourselves, our spirituality, and our world.

In many ways, it feels as though the twelve months since we last stood around the Samhain fire have been a time of grief and anxiety. The world feels more uncertain than ever, and yet we must remember that each day we walk the Earth with our loved ones is a day that should be cherished. In recognition of these truths and the lessons they bring, we offer five bundles in the Samhain fire. We will burn these bundles one at a time, pausing to reflect as we watch each burn. If, in this time of reflection, anyone feels they have a memory to share or something to say, please feel welcome to do so.

Burning of Remembrance Bundles

The first bundle is in honor of Gaea, Mother Earth, our planet. We mourn the destruction of ecosystems, the depletion of the forests and the soil, the loss of so many species of plants and animals, the poisoning of the air and water. We recognize that we have played a part in these processes. We ask forgiveness, and we vow to take better care of our planetary home in the year to come.

The second is in honor of all our ancestors who moved through this world as refugees, who left their homes in one part of the world and migrated to another, seeking better opportunities, safe haven, or a happier life. We thank them for the difficult choices they made and for all the people who helped them along their journey, as their travails brought us here to this place together. We ask that they guide all those who seek refuge today and inspire us to provide safe havens for others where and when we can.

The third is in honor of our civic ancestors—the brave activists who imagined a country rooted in fundamental human rights and dignity, a country that relied upon and respected the processes of democracy and fair representation, a country that for over two hundred years worked to live up to its ideals and promises. We thank those of past generations who fought for social justice, civil rights, and human dignity. We ask that they guide us as we struggle to preserve their legacies.

The fourth is in honor of all those whose lives have been lost to violence, whether by their own hand, in an accident, in an act of oppression, or in one of the many wars, both declared and undeclared, that have taken place worldwide. We pray that their spirits may find peace.

The final bundle is in honor of those for whom we will be ancestors. We ask that they forgive us for our shortcomings and mistakes, and we promise to work every day to leave for them a legacy of hope, compassion, peace, and joy. We pray that they will remember us.

Closing Thoughts

Samhain is a time for remembrance, for honoring ancestors and the past, for letting go. In this way, we mark the closing of the year. But in truth, this ending, this closure is illusory. The cycles of time have no beginning and no end. Time is a process, forever unfolding, forever spiraling forward. As we let go of the losses of the passing year, we welcome the possibilities to come. And we begin this year with a time for retreat. The darkness that is falling pushes us inward, into our homes and into ourselves. It is important to note that we begin with turning inwards, with rest. The coming winter is a space for planning, for quietly germinating seeds that will not see the light of day for many months. This is our time for quiet, for healing, for preparing ourselves for the spring. The Wheel Turns. Blessed Be. Blessed Samhain.

Closing Poem

Suggested reading: “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver