Now We Live by Starlight ~ the Eighth Day of Christmas

Star of Bethlehem flowering at the 1,000 year church, April 2017

As we come closer to Epiphanytide, which begins on the evening of January 5th; the Twelfth Day of Christmas, we begin to live by starlight. If we take our Christmas decorations down then our homes can feel stripped bare and empty, cold as we sometimes imagine stars to be. But we also become open to the sky. There is nothing between us and forever, and eternity is at our fingertips.

To sink ever more deeply with our starlit journey we might watch this beautiful timelapse film by Harley Grady.

Stars have become more and more important to my own spiritual path and I hope to share something of that over Epiphanytide if I can find the words. But, for now, I want to share something of the star that is most important in the coming days; the Star of Bethlehem. 

Epiphany remembers the visit of the Wise Men, or Kings, to the Christ child, having followed the Star of Bethlehem to find him. There is a belief that our Christmas decorations, especially those representing stars or light, shouldn't be taken down before Epiphany Eve as it might prevent the Wise Men from finding their way. I love that, in folk belief, there is only now; the Wise Men are always travelling, and each Epiphany they arrive, with a little help from the twinkling star trail we put out for them. This is no small thing; we are not irrelevant, no matter how small we feel. Our smallest action is the pivot around which the universe spins. And when our fairylights have been put away and the stars have shifted, there is a little white flower who comes to remind us that that remains true, no matter what.

It's said that the Star of Bethlehem first appeared on the night of Christ's birth to guide the Wise Men, whose journey was made complicated by their maps and charts, to the child. When its work ended it burst into thousands of brilliant fragments and fell to earth. Where it came to ground a blanket of milk-white flowers grew.

You will know that you have found Star of Bethlehem when you see a flower with six white petals surrounding six stamens, each with a yellow anther. They bloom in the spring from early March until late May or early June. The flowers open in the early morning and are usually closed by noon revealing a beautiful green stripe on their underside, hence some of their common names; sleepydick, nap-at-noon, star-at-noon, johnny-go-to-bed-at-noon, and eleven o'clock ladies. When the flowers have died a three-celled seed capsule forms containing several black seeds.

Star of Bethlehem, Wiki Commons

Her genus name, 'ornithogalum', comes from the Greek words 'ornis' for 'bird' and 'gala', meaning 'milk', and was named and described by Dioscorides (40 to 90CE) in his 'De Materia Medica' due to her abundance of white flowers that 'when opened look a lot like milk'. 

In herbal healing she is known as the 'comforter' and is a gentle companion in sitting with the after-effects of shock, even those received long ago in childhood. She has been described as the 'Guardian of Grieving', and used in the treatment of those who are suffering from suicidal depression and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, offering a light to lead the afflicted out of the darkness. Indeed, she does that work for us all, blooming at the beginning of spring and reminding us of the need to come into the light after the dark winter months. She is the way-shower, a guide for the lost, just as she guided the Wise Men through the vast silence of the desert. Generous indeed for a star who has herself has been broken into pieces; the archetypal 'wounded healer', just as Christ is. I would never trust a spiritual path that didn't know how to honour the parts in all of us that are broken.

I find the image of the star fallen to Earth deeply moving and have often thought of her as a teacher, showing us that it's possible to follow diverse spiritual paths, whilst still being part of one wild and beautiful truth. In her myriad mirrored fragments, her many white petals, her brilliance of being, the Star of Bethlehem reflects them all. There is no 'other', just broken parts of one great beating heart. Perhaps that's why she is sometimes called the 'Reconciliation Star', the star of at-one-ment. And it does feel that there is much to reconcile, and to atone for. There is mending to be done, but we have our guide and she is pulsating with the energy that drives the universe towards justice.

Star Circle, Wiki Commons

But it doesn't feel that there is too much justice in the world just now; not when the President of the United States, who we might remind ourselves is also made of stars, appears to be wilfully driving us towards WWWIII, a war which many of our sisters and brothers would be justified in saying started many years ago. The world truly does feel shattered into a thousand sharp and ragged pieces.

Three years ago, in the wake of several star-shattering world events, a poem came whilst I was writing about the healing properties and folklore of this little white flower. Much of this piece of writing is based on that. If you would like to read it you can find it here. I continue to pray, as I did then, that by the time she returns in the spring there will be much healing between us to be held out in offering to her. Epiphanytide is our opportunity to realign ourselves with the star who, like Christ, fell to Earth to help us mend.

Star of Bethlehem is tired 

of dragging around the baggage 

that we try to hide, 

divisions that won't be reconciled, 

the willful non-seeing of the so-called wise.

Wakes bright with morning, 

asleep by noon, 

offers guidance with maps and tea; 

pours milk, leaves not bags, 

her best bone china 

slips from her exhausted hands, 

smashes into a thousand shards of stars 

on her kitchen floor, 

reads the auguries in their constellations.

Weeps for the weight of what she sees 

swept under the carpet. 

Star of Bethlehem carries diversity 

as a prayer in her shopping bag, 

walks with Jah, Allah, Shekinah 

wearing goose feathers in her hair 

in the stews of the Liberty.

Keeps a torch by the back door, 

shines a light on intruders ~ 

Guantanamo, Yemen, Syria, 

the housing of the poor, 

a nail bomb on Electric Avenue, 

knows that she can't take much more. 

No amount of bleach in her bucket 

will make this pure.

No amount of soap will scrub this whole.

And her batteries are running out. 

She may have to brave the dark. 

Star of Bethlehem hangs her head

in the churchyard 

closes in on herself at shadow fall, 

offers her flesh for the breaking of bread,

ties her scarf more tightly round her head.

Tuber or tumour, hate or hope. 

The murder of the innocents, 

child radicalised, 

drowned on the refugee boat, 

finding belonging in the EDL, 

bleeding out in the stairwell in Peckham Rye.

Herod turns his head, shuts his eyes, 

she opens her petals wide. 

And she is growing wild, 

escaping the confines of the flower bed.

Sinking her roots into holy ground, 

gathering up the pieces that she let slip, 

knows it's time to get a grip. 

She weeps for mercy, grieves for grace, 

what we might have been, what we are. 

Yet still she loves the pilgrim soul in us, 

the spark that journeyed 

from the furthest star 

and fell to earth forged in fire. 

She puts the kettle on. 

~ Jacqueline Durban, 2017

Star of Bethlehem flowering at the 1,000 year church, 2017

References:

http://radicalhoneybee.blogspot.com/2017/06/star-of-bethlehem-for-all-who-are-lost.html?m=1

A Still Small Point of Light ~ Celtic Advent Day 12

Lighting the first Advent candle, Wiki Commons

Today has been Advent Sunday, the first of the four Sundays in our familiar modern Advent. I have had the sweetest of days, which began at the Church of the 2,000 year old Grandmother Yew in a small village not far from here.

St Nicholas ~ Church of the Grandmother Yew

The church is dedicated to St Nicholas, whose feast day is on December 6th, & so we celebrated his generosity with the sharing of shiny chocolate coins.

Gifts from St Nicholas 

And we all wore our festive hats! Naturally I took the opportunity to put my antlers on.

And we sang one of my favourite hymns, 'O Come, O Come, Emmanuel'.

But it matters not to become too festive just yet, even after today's little flurry. Advent is a time of waiting, of allowing longing, even for those of us who have been journeying through the older Celtic Advent for two weeks already. Everything is born in the dark, and Advent starts with a seed and ends with a star, from small beginnings to an 'ending' as vast as the sky, but even then we will still be sitting in the dark. How else will the seed germinate, the star show us the way, how will we nurture the newborn spark if we rush headlong for the light? Which brings us back to the four Sundays of Advent.

One of the lovely traditional activities of Advent is lighting the candles of the Advent wreath, or Advent Crown. The wreath is traditionally made from evergreens and with four candles, often coloured violet and/or rose, or sometimes a fifth white one to act as the 'Christ candle', placed around it. One candle is lit each Sunday of Advent, and the fifth on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. This takes place in both homes & churches, the light increasing amongst us each week until the Sun & the Son are reborn at Midwinter. Until then we trust and we hope, as our ancestors have before us for thousands upon thousands of years.

The concept of the Advent Crown originated with 16th Century German Lutherans, although the wreath that we would recognise came into being in the 1800s. It seems that Johann Hinrich Wichern, a German Protestant pastor who worked with the urban poor, invented the Advent wreath as a way to reassure the children at his mission school that Christmas was indeed coming, and so encouraging not to ask for a progress report every day. This first wreath was made from an old cartwheel, turned on its side and with 20 small red and 4 large white candles around the rim. Each day a red candle would be lit, and each Sunday a white one. This evolved into the smaller wreaths with five candles that we know today.

The candles symbolise the increase of the light in the world but each also has its own individual meaning, which are Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. There are variations on the theme, such as Faith, Prepare, Joy, and Love, or Prophets, Angels, Shepherds, and Magi. I read today, shared by author and preacher Sarah Bessey, of another theme from the ancient order of Carmelite nuns, who are dedicated to lives of contemplative prayer & who focus in Advent on Waiting, Accepting, Journeying, and Birth. This feels like a more gentle, slower movement towards the light, one which embraces the dark and the unknowing.

But, what of the more familiar theme for the first week of Advent, that of Hope? I know that many are losing, or have lost, hope in these times. Daily I hear about something which threatens to dim the stars, tumble me into a darkness without seeds. I sit with that, because even that darkness calls for attention, and then I take a deep breath and fall into hope once more. It came to me some time ago that to hope is one of our most sacred tasks; Love pervades everything, always, but hope is a spark that can be blown out, or allowed to die. I once read of humans being 'the ones who carry ochre', but we are also the ones who kindle hope. Refusing to enter the darkness where hope has gone cold prevents our longing to relight the flame of hope. Instead, we warm ourselves on shallow, surface things; materialism, greed, power. For the want of a still small point of light.

I have more to say about kindling hope, and how to nurture that newborn flame in ourselves and the world around us, but for now I will end with a quote from American writer Rebecca Solnit.

"Hope is not a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. It is an axe you break down doors with in an emergency. Hope should shove you out the door, because it will take everything you have to steer the future away from endless war, from the annihilation of the Earth's treasures and the grinding down of the poor and marginal...to hope is to give yourself to the future, and that commitment to the future is what makes the present inhabitable."

And so, we kindle the flame on the first candle of our Advent Crown for Hope. The world isn't filled with light, not yet and maybe not anytime soon. But, for another turning of the year, we commit ourselves to the future, and here is a still small point for us to focus on. Let's help one another keep it shining in the dark.


References:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advent_wreath

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advent

https://www.discovermagazine.com/planet-earth/prehistoric-use-of-ochre-can-tell-us-about-the-evolution-of-humans

Sarah Bessey ~

https://sarahbessey.com

https://www.instagram.com/p/B5iYffCBaWr/?igshid=3e36r4mnnyln

Rebecca Solnit ~

http://rebeccasolnit.net

On Following Starlight and Listening to a Deeper Song ~ Twelfth Night and Epiphany

'Singing Round the Star on Twelfth Night', Cornelius Troost, J.Paul Getty Museum, Wiki Commons

How easily we let go of the sacred. Tonight is Twelfth Night, and the Eve of Epiphany, which for many of our ancestors, Christian and pre-Christian, was an important night of celebration, of feasting, of starlight, and often of challenging the social order, something that perhaps we have also let go of too easily.

In our commercial Capitalist culture Christmas seems to start as early as September, and is in full swing by the end of October when the plastic Halloween remains have been swept away from the supermarket shelves. Once, Halloween was Samhain, the ancient festival of the Old Ways. Then it was the Christian three day festival of Hallowmas. Both honouring the ancestors and the beloved dead. Now, all thought of the sacred and of honouring is forgotten in the rush to tell ghost stories and paint ourselves with gore. We so often retain the echo but lose the song. And so it is with Christmas, which in Medieval Tudor England continued until Candlemas, a time of purification and blessing of the candles on February 2^nd., and again recalling the ancient sacred time of Imbolc with its celebration of the stirrings of new spring life and honouring Brigid, goddess of sunfire and the sacred flame. How deeply and beautifully these resonant threads vibrate through time and shared belief, no matter what that belief might be called. For the Tudors, it was later decided that Christmastide should end on Twelfth Night, and yet even then sacred time continued with Epiphanytide until February. Now it seems that anything with meaning ends with the Boxing Day sales and the beauty of Imbolc has melted away with the spring snows.

Sacred time doesn't care for clocks and no sacred day allows itself to be caged by the limits of twenty four short hours; instead these times are a tide, rising in the land and her people and ebbing and flowing with the rising of the sun and the shining of the moon. And so it is with our winter festivals; of Solstice, of Yule, of Jul, of Christmas, and so many others. In 567CE the Council of Tours declared that the entire period from Christmas until epiphany should be part of the same celebration, Christmastide or Twelvetide. In Medieval England Twelfth Night marked the end of a winter festival that began at Halloween, the time when the Lord of Misrule presided and the world was 'turned upside down', putting away social norms and reminding everyone that the structure of society only continued with the consent of all, from the richest to the poorest. Lots would be drawn by the discovery of a hidden pea or bean in a piece of 'Twelfth Cake'. The winner, whether a peasant or a lord, would rule over the festivities, which often included wild partying and drunkenness, often through the drinking of punch used to 'Wassail' the apple trees, another ancient tradition of this night. The custom was abolished by Henry VIII in 1541 and restored and again abolished by subsequent monarchs. In the 1870s, Queen Victoria outlawed the celebration of Twelfth Night as it was feared that the revelries were becoming uncontrollable. It is so often so with the folk traditions of the common people.

'12th Night Revelers Carnival', Nola, 1884, Wiki Commons

All of this is in some contrast with the observance of the Eve of Epiphany, which falls on Twelfth Night. In Eastern Orthodoxy this is a night of strict fasting, when the devout will not eat until the first star is seen at night. That this night is so woven in with starlight is because in the Christian faith it is the time when the Wise Men, the Three Kings, or the Magi found the Christ child by following the Star of Bethlehem (subversive perhaps that the shepherds saw him first!). But of course Christianity is a faith of the desert and of heat. In our own land, these cold nights are times to kindle the fires and feast in celebration and faith that we have enough to see us through until the spring. It is not a time of denial. And yet, as always, there are resonances between these two ways which join and weave so deeply in our own earth.

For those of us who follow the older ways of hedge and hallow our homes are decorated in evergreens and sparkling lights. It was once believed that tree spirits, of holly, of mistletoe, and ivy, lived in this greenery and enjoyed the shelter of our hearth over the festive season. However, it was important that these spirits were released by burning the green on Twelfth Night to ensure healthy growth in the coming year. This tradition still takes place throughout our land, one much loved event taking place each year at the Geffrye Museum in London, where the holly and ivy used to decorate their period living rooms over Christmas is burned and celebrated with the drinking of mulled wine and the singing of carols. Returning from the fires to starlight, we find the belief that decorations, including the fairylights which represent the Star, should not be taken down before the Eve of Epiphany as the Wise Men might then not be able to find their way. Some may feel this to be an appropriation of an older belief and yet there are so many divisions in our world that I prefer reconciliation; to see that we are all following the same thread of winter light in our own ways. For Christians this may mean following the light of the Star across the desert, for others perhaps it might be in honouring the Star from which we all first had our being and the reindeer tracks followed by our far off ancestors. In The Greenwood Tarot, which vibrates with the magic of the pre-Celtic lands, The Star is one of the primary guides, just as it is in Christianity, and it is the catalyst of the creation myths of the planet, and so the first earth that was ever formed...

‘From the essence of stars in the universe, the earth was created, and was blessed. The first tree on earth was the silver birch; the World Tree. From the tree emerged its guardian, the first reindeer, the Primal Creatress, who waits until the first light, the dawn of human consciousness, aware of the guidance and blessing of her origins The Star. With an archaic singing, She drums the manifest world into being. First the four elements, the Breath of life, the Spark of life, the Waters of life, and the first land-the Foundation. Then She calls the primal forest, the birds and animals, the first people. She then marks out the first pathway with her own totem, the reindeer. And she will walk forever with all generations, so that they may remember their origins in the stars, and learn wisdom from those who have preceded them.’

(Chesca Potter, 'The Greenwood Tarot')

No, I am no longer interested in the things that divide us, or in claiming what is ours or theirs, only in reconciliation and mending. And it seems that, when we look beneath, there is so little that really needs to be mended, perhaps only a few thinly stretched and fraying strands that need some loving care. All I know is that for so many of us something precious, vulnerable, and new, in ourselves and in the world, has been born in these days. Whether it is the sun or the son, the awesome life-giving power of our solar Mother or the all-too-human fragility of the tiny child, matters so very little. We are all following our own little stars to come into the warmth of its presence as the seasons turn. We all need a thread to follow in the dark and we find it where we may.

''The Pole Star' from The Greenwood Tarot (Artist: Chesca Potter)

And what of the primal Reindeer Mother and her ancient trackways? Perhaps something of her is still to be found in the Mari Lwyd and the wassailing traditions and the Mummers' plays which take place in the orchards and inns of our land on Twelfth Night and in the weeks to come? As the 'Grey Mare' her hoofbeats still echo in the star-filled night. In parts of South Wales, the Mari Lwyd, in the form of a decorated horse's skull, is carried from house to house between Christmas and Twelfth Night bearing the legend that the Grey Mare, the old goddess, was cast out of the Bethlehem Stable on the night that Christ was born to make room for Mary and that must now gain entry to safely give birth to her foal through riddles and trickery.

“The Mare-headed Queen, the Mari-Lwyd,
I was mother of all the herds.
Ten thousand years my shining foals,
Bridled with starlight,
Saddled with gold,
Leapt the divide between living and dead,
Quickened the year with each toss of the head,
Galloped the deep of beauty
And never grew old.
Let me in!

But Mother of God, the Mary Mild,
The pregnant Maiden came,
Bursting with Jehovah seed
She entered my stable
And cried out her need.
With ropes I was dragged from the birthing straw,
Aching with foal I was heaved to the door,
Swapping warmth for bitter weather
And birth of a rival creed.
Let me in!”

(From 'Mari Lwyd', lyrics by Hugh Lupton)

'Mari Lwyd', Wiki Commons

I like to think that Mary, who knew so deeply what it was to be outcast and homeless, would not have allowed such a thing but we know too well how the ways of patriarchy try to cast woman against woman. And always those at the bloated centre seek to turn the wild edge-dwellers one against the other. I reject stories such as these and honour all who give birth to the Light in these dark days of winter. And the Goddess is far older than the Virgin.

And so, for those of us who remember the sacred and acknowledge our place as people of the Northern winter lands and its age-old traditions, the Twelfth Night revelries continue; in the Wassail and the HaxeyHood, in the burning of the green and the dance of the Holly Man, in the hoofbeat of the Mari Lwyd. We have nothing to fear from those who follow the desert star, as well as or instead of our own winter-light, and the old ways are not so easily subdued, even on this night when the Three Kings are abroad.

'Holly Man on the South Bank', Wiki Commons

And so to Epiphany on January 6^th, the day of the visit of the Kings to the Christ child after this night of bright stars. In Spain it is the main festive holiday, known as El Dia de los Reyes, and Three Kings Parades, or Cabalgatas, take place throughout the country with food being left out by children for the kings and their camels on Epiphany Eve. On the day itself a 'Three Kings Cake', baked in a ring and decorated with candied fruit, is eaten. Hidden inside is a small figure of Jesus and a bean. The person who finds Jesus will be the king or queen of that year's celebrations and the one who finds the bean will buy next year's cake. In England the 'Twelfth Cake' upheld a similar tradition but, uniquely, other items were often included, with whoever found the clove being “the villain, the twig, the fool, and the rag, the tart”. “Anything spicy or hot, like ginger snaps and spiced ale, was considered proper Twelfth Night fare, recalling the costly spices brought by the Wise Men. Another English Epiphany dessert was the jam tart, but made into a six-point star for the occasion to symbolize the Star of Bethlehem, and thus called Epiphany tart. The discerning English cook sometimes tried to use thirteen different coloured jams on the tart on this day for luck, creating a dessert with the appearance of stained glass.” (The Old Foodie) How intimately food is bound up with the sacred. Which brings me beautifully to another aspect of Epiphany.

In Ireland, January 6^th is known as 'Little Christmas', and 'Nollaig na mBan' or 'Women's Christmas'. This was the day on which women were able to lay down the hard work of the household which they had undertaken throughout the rest of the festive season, and no doubt all year, and go out to celebrate with their friends, sisters, mothers, and aunts. Children would buy presents for their mothers and grandmothers and women would light candles for every room in the house. There is some wonderful information about Nollaig na mBan in the Irish Times here and The Sanctuary of Women provide a beautiful free online retreat for Women's Christmas here. I think that next year I will make a point of gathering with my women friends for Little Christmas Day.

There is such richness to be found in our traditions, so many threads that join us rather than divide, and yes, we do let go of the sacred and of sacred time far too easily. Tonight I will honour the Star of the East and the desert child and the Star of the North and the reindeer track and, tomorrow, I trust that the light of both will lead me on.

Nights of Reindeer and Starlight (Artist: Wood Hill)

References:

http://www.thelocal.es/20170104/why-spain-loves-the-three-kings-more-than-santa

http://www.icysedgwick.com/twelfth-night-folklore/

http://www.ibtimes.co.uk/twelfth-night-england-two-little-known-rural-festivals-dating-back-hundreds-years-1536581

'Archaeologica Cambrensis': Jones, David, 1888 https://archive.org/stream/archaeologiacam19moorgoog/archaeologiacam19moorgoog_djvu.txt

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelfth_Night_(holiday)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Christmas

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelve_Days_of_Christmas

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmastide

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmastide

http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/world-news/when-take-christmas-decorations-down-9500013

http://randombitsoffascination.com/2016/01/04/regency-christmas-traditions-twelfth-night-revelries

https://austenonly.com/2010/01/05/jane-austen-and-christmas-celebrating-twelfth-night/

http://thefederalist.com/2014/12/29/lets-bring-back-the-12-days-of-christmas/

https://voicewithinthecards.wordpress.com/greenwood-tarot-book/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mari_Lwyd

Mari Lwyd on YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vc_OXXt9PeE&list=PLUN2ASn_0NgeBu1RcRxSOq2kHw4vzuKbg&index=5

http://www.thelionspart.co.uk/twelfthnight/

http://www.geffrye-museum.org.uk/whatson/events/christmas-events/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epiphany_(holiday)

http://www.theoldfoodie.com/2007/01/twelfth-day-of-christmas.html

http://sanctuaryofwomen.com/blog/womens-christmas-2017-walking-the-way-of-hope/

http://www.irishtimes.com/culture/on-the-woman-s-day-of-christmas-1.121479