"The Seasons of Life"

It began in fear and wonder. Each solstice was a time of uncertainty. Human
beings awaited the return of the light and the lengthening of days. They lit
fires, torches and logs to warm themselves and to coax the warm sun back
into their lives.

What it meant to have faith was to trust the cycle of the seasons; to trust
that the light would return as it had every year so far. Whether they placed
their faith in their rituals or in the gods of nature, ancient humankind
understood that much was out of their control. They watched and waited,
hoping all would be well.

This seasonal experience hasn¹t changed much over the years. Each culture
has developed its own variation, but the universal message remains. At the
darkest time of year, the light reappears. Out of fear and wonder, new life
begins. Though it is universal in its meaning, the winter holiday is far
from simple. I doubt there is anyone in this room who hasn¹t felt some
pressure to rise to the occasion in one way or another. Though many love all
the preparations and festivities of the season, there are others for whom it
is a challenge or even a burden.

Pressure also comes from the symbolic intensity of the holiday. Its
universal theme has as many variations as there are cultures. They are
densely packed in layers, not easily separated. The baby Jesus symbolizes
new life, which symbolizes the renewal of the season, which symbolizes the
return of the light, which symbolizes the cycles of nature. It¹s too much to
hold together all at once. Which is why for us, as for the ancients, there
is little about the season that is really in our control.

So let us relax and enjoy the solstice, a natural event that happens whether
we do anything or not. It has its own reason for being. What meaning we
human beings make of it is ours alone.

"A generation goes and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever,"
wrote Ecclesiastes. That is the reality in which we human beings have our
days. The solstice reminds us that this is true. Creatures of the earth that
we are, we find comfort and meaning in this truth.

We belong to the cycles of nature. In them we find our place in life, our
hope for renewal, and our image of eternity. When the days are darkest we
revisit this truth, and lift it out of the intuitive recesses of our psyches
into the light of the season.

As I grow older, I notice that the cycles of the season grow deeper in
meaning. I take a longer view of their time span, too. This year¹s solstice
is only one of many; once again the days will lengthen and another year will
have come and gone.

People I have known have come and gone as well. Another generation slips
away. What was once unthinkable ­ that parents and elders who have always
been part of my life would some day leave ­ is now a fact to be accepted.

Loss and grief are dark experiences, impenetrable at first, but opening up
eventually, as time passes and life finds a way to continue. The occurrence
of the solstice recurs in us. We move from dark to light throughout our
lives, fearing in the darkness that the light will never return. Yet what
begins in fear ends in wonder here too. Dark and light yield to each other
in life in patterns we observe but cannot control. Just as they do in
nature.

Wendell Berry writes about taking his despair outdoors, into "the peace of
wild things." He likes what he cannot control. There he sees how creatures
do not burden themselves with worry or with grief. And there he can "rest in
the grace of the world."

The grace of the world comes to us through the cycles of the seasons and the
life we share with all of nature. As we live and grow and learn what it
means to lose what we love, we find comfort in "the grace of the world,"
which holds us gently through the passage of time. When the thought of loss
is too much to bear, we remember that just when it is darkest, the solstice
comes and brings us back the light. We don¹t control that either.

This is a good time to reflect on the wisdom that nature can offer us. The
solstice is one of many experiences that all humanity shares. Though the
people of different cultures have produced different legends and traditions,
the primary connection ­ of human to nature ­ is the same the world over.
And this connection is not simply with the solstice. It is with all of
nature, with its consoling cycles and its wise wild things, that we find our
true being.

If this is the inner truth of the season, a truth we know deep within, then
perhaps we can find guidance from it in these dark times. We all learn, as
we grow up, grow old, and undergo the losses and gains of the seasons of
life, that we are part of a larger reality that includes all living things.
We can¹t fight it. The fear and wonder of life lead always to the same
place, where sorrow and joy, dark and light, meet and move on with the
years. This truth is confirmed outwardly each winter at the solstice, and
many more times within.

Yet here we are, aware more than ever of the differences that divide
humanity and call us to declare war on each other. The darkness of the
season this year is caused not only by the long nights. It comes also from
our despair that humanity has not yet learned our lessons from nature nor
how to live by the inner truth we share. We have not learned how to live in
peace.

What other truth have we withheld from ourselves, so eager for peace yet so
far from making it? Is it not enough to know that we and all humanity are
connected by life itself, which is a precious gift? Not yet, it seems.

We can take hope from the observation that A. Powell Davies made just a year
after World War II ended. In his Christmas message that year, he wrote about
the continuity of the ancient solstice festival with all the legends that
have followed since. "The legends have grown both beautiful and fanciful,"
he wrote. "Yet they have stayed quite close to the inner truth from which
they draw their substance; the truth that [humankind] must find our faith,
not in the daylight but in the dark."

He pointed out that the Christmas story preserves the universal theme of the
ancient solstice. "Christmas always begins," he said, "not with daybreak,
and the coming of the morning ­ but at midnight. Š It was in the darkest
hour of the night ­ not in the glow of the morning ­ that the shepherds of
the legend heard the angels sing. And of course, the Three Wise Men were
guided, not by the sun, but by a star." As we make the transition over the
next couple of days from the solstice to Christmas let us remember that it
is always the darkest time that calls forth our trust and our faith. We are
not the first people to pray for the light to return. Though the world be
plunged into the darkness of fear, hate and impending war, we keep our
hearts and minds set on healing, peace and new life. And the new life the
legend celebrates is the life that brings peace on earth.

This passage from darkness to light, from fear to wonder, and from despair
to new life is as familiar to us as the change of seasons. Its wisdom is
embedded in the cycles we all experience as we make our way through life.
There is acceptance and peace in knowing our place in the world. There is
also a responsibility, instilled in us by the inner truth of our connection
to all living things, to use the gift of life in peaceful ways and love.

The days have begun to lengthen. The light has returned. May fear give way
to wonder, and all that new life has to give.