Malcolm Guite reflects upon the tradition of St. Lucy's Day in northern European countries:
"...many people will be familiar with the Scandinavian celebrations in which the eldest daughter of the family rises early, robed in white and with a crown of berries and lit candles on her head. She brings holiday food to her family while they sing 'Sankta Lucia', and thus the first celebration of the coming Christmas season is ushered in." (Guite, Waiting on the Word, 53-54)
Lucy means 'light', and December 13 was once the winter solstice day before calendars shifted. In a season when all the days seem to be dark, the solstice marks the darkest of these days. So, as Guite notes, it made sense for an early Christian martyr whose name means 'light' to have her festivities on the year's darkest day.
That day, of course, is now the 21st. But you and I may yet need an excuse to hold out for light on this, the 13th of December, even if it isn't the darkest day of the year! Monday night, I returned with my wife and son from a trip to Dallas, and I drove our car from Orlando to Jacksonville beginning at around 8:45pm. Since my son fell asleep instantly, the car stayed quiet. The frenzy of the Orlando traffic amidst the twists and turns of I-4 gave way to the quiet, subdued, monotonous quality of I-95. Today, I awoke to people to see, small festivities with colleagues, laughter and merriness. Bright times! Yet, I was subdued and weighed down. It is the season of cheer. Yet, I felt all day that the wick was burning low. I was in coffee shops and happy meetings, yet I still felt like I was driving out on that dark road, staying focused on the lights in front of me. Many members of our church travel during the week for work. I enjoy my long conversations with them as they are on 'windshield' time. They are en route - physically, emotionally, spiritually. I think of friends who suffer from depression, for whom there is a darkness weighing them down throughout the year, and not only when the world is darker than usual.
Clearly, the solstice has changed dates over time. And so it does for each of us. In winter, when the days are darker, there are some days that are darker than others. More sad. More bleak.
A friend taught a class tonight that clued me into the way the dark and light complement one another on Christmas Day. At midnight, the congregation gathers in the dark beneath the star to remember the angels announcement of the birth of Christ. At dawn, the congregation now gathers at the manger itself to behold the gift of this new life - God in the flesh, the new birth which contains within itself the new birth of each Christian to come. Adding a moral dimension to the light and dark, the Apostle John writes: "the light shines in the darkness and darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:5)
Even if there is no 'Lucy' to greet you with breakfast in bed and crowns of berries in her hair, 'Lucy' may greet you tomorrow as she greeted me today - in repentance at my self-pity, in prayerful yearnings for health to come to all the sniffling, coughing people I know, in compassion toward all the people, so many people, who are way more exhausted than me today. When its cloudy, dark, and dreary, or even if its sunny, but everything's cloudy on the inside, look for the light. Look for 'Lucy'.
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