by Susan Mangan
One December night when my husband and I were young, not yet twenty, and newly in love, we lay on the floor of his darkened dorm room looking up at the window and the midnight sky. We were listening to pianist George Winston playing Carol of the Bells. Soon snow began to fall. Delicate snowflakes clung to the glass—crystalline and intricate. It was the longest night of the year, the winter solstice. From that moment on, the days would gradually lengthen and promises would be made. That night was over twenty years ago. When I look out at the purity of a crisp winter’s night, I feel a catch in my throat as I remember the snow falling, the graceful cadence of the music, and the warmth of my husband’s hand.
Musical artist Sting muses on the spiritual quality of the winter solstice: “The winter solstice needed to be celebrated ritually so that a new cycle of the seasons could begin, crops could be sown, animals husbanded, and life itself could proceed.” The shortest day and longest night of the year has special significance dating back through time and across all cultures. Ancient Norse people would burn a log, which came to be known as a Yule log throughout the seemingly eternal night of the winter’s solstice in homage to their god Thor. Originally noted as the winter solstice on the early Roman calendar, Christ’s birth is celebrated on the twenty-fifth of December. When Roman Catholics switched to the Gregorian calendar, the winter solstice moved back five days to December 21.
For the ancient Celts, the winter solstice was marked with spiritual, as well as practical significance. Outside Dublin, in the Boyne Valley of County Meath, Newgrange is the site of an ancient Celtic tomb. Thought to have been built 500 years before the Great Pyramids, Newgrange is older than Stonehenge and was constructed around 3200 BC. The burial mound at Newgrange is quite large, measuring 250 feet across and 40 feet high.
When archaeologists first uncovered Newgrange, they discovered what is known as a “roof-box.” On the twenty-first of December, the first light of dawn shines through the roof-box illuminating the central tomb for approximately seventeen minutes. Scholars speculate that the roof-box was an early calendar system for the ancient Celts to keep track of the seasons. Others believe that the tomb holds spiritual and astrological significance. Regardless, it is fascinating to ponder the advanced intellect and spirituality of the early Celtic people.
Currently, only one hundred visitors are allowed into the tomb at Newgrange on the morning of the winter solstice. Interested patrons must place their names in a lottery drawn in September. Fifty people are chosen and are allowed to bring along one partner to view this phenomenon.
In the spring of 1992, I had the opportunity to travel into the tomb at Newgrange with my mother and a group of tourists. Approximately 19 meters long, the initial entrance passage at Newgrange is narrow and decorated with megalithic tri-spiral art. A closet claustrophobic, I could not step more than five feet into the passageway. With a few apologetic utterances, I made my way back through the line of visitors and left my mother in the middle of the tomb. She was always a bit more adventuresome than I. Looking back, I wished that I had the ability to surmount my fear long enough to view this ancient mystery.
Many years later, when spending Christmas in Ireland with my family, I watched the RTE coverage of the ceremony surrounding the winter solstice from the Uncle’s well-lit and spacious sitting room. Granted, I wasn’t one of the lucky few visitors brave enough to bear the discomfort of a frosty morning or the breath-snatching narrowness of the passageway at Newgrange, but I could boast that I witnessed live coverage of the event from Ireland!
Symbolically, this brief illumination of darkness in the mid of winter represents the light of hope as a new season begins. Interestingly, our Christian belief and celebration of Christ’s birth in late December also represents the hope of new life amid the death of winter. Steeped in spiritual and secular significance, the winter solstice is indeed a time for reflection.
I have always enjoyed the changing of the seasons. One December night when my children were small, I bundled them up and took them sledding on our snow-covered drive. The moon was full, the air was frigidly cold, and our cheeks bloomed pink from both the chill of the night and our laughter.
Winter is magical for children. As a teacher, I would indulge my class during the first snowfall of the season by allowing the children to rush from their seats and gaze outside the frost-bitten window frames. Secretly, I was as delighted as the children to see this gift of nature fall once again before my admiring eyes.
Even as a teenager, winter held such magic for me. After the first big snowfall, my dad and I would leave our cramped city streets and drive to a forest preserve in the Chicago suburbs. Under moonlit skies, we would cross-country ski through woods and across snow-covered golf courses. We never really talked during these outings. It was enough just to watch our breath manifest in the cold winter air and listen to the soft swish of our narrow skis as they cut through birch-lined paths of snow.
Since the beginning of time, for one moment each year, the Earth tilts farthest away from the sun. Deprived of light, we are shrouded in darkness longer than any other night of the year. Despite the darkness, the winter solstice will usher in the birth of another season. As a new day dawns, the Earth will continue on her infinite journey, illuminating paths of promise and renewal.
*Sources consulted Sting: If On A Winter’s Night, Wikipedia and Newgrange.com and Newgrange World Heritage Site.
*Susan holds a Master’s Degree in English from John Carroll University and a Master’s Degree in Education from Baldwin-Wallace College. She may be contacted at
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