Wassail!

Midwinter festivals are perhaps one of the very oldest human traditions. Over the previous few months the power of the sun has been waning, but now, although there may be long and cold winter months ahead, the decline has been halted and the sun is slowly regaining strength.

In South America, the Incas would symbolically tie the sun to a post to prevent it from escaping completely and plunging the world into perpetual darkness. The Roman festival of Brumalia was a month-long party that ended on 25 December, held in honour of Bacchus, the god of wine and ecstatic ritual. In Japan, the story is that the sun goddess Amaterasu had hidden herself away in cave and the other gods tricked her into emerging by holding a noisy party. In Iran, the popular festival of Shab-e Chelleh has been held for at least 4000 years, with its roots in ancient Persian celebrations of the birth of Mithra, the god of truth and light, born of a virgin mother.

Here in England we have Christmas, the Christian story laid over earlier pagan Yule festivities, giving us a sometimes strange mixture: a child born in a manger and 3 wise men (Persian astrologers), alongside decorated fir trees and Yule logs (now commonly chocolate, but once real logs burned in honour of Thor, the god of thunder). And, in some places, wassailing.

In Saxon times, people commonly greeted each other by saying “Waes hael,” a phrase meaning “be healthy.” This developed into a toast at meals, to which the usual response was “drinc hael” (“drink and be healthy”). Saxon gradually morphed into the English language under the influence of Norman French, and by the 12th century the phrase had come to refer to various activities associated with the midwinter festivities, especially those involving the consumption of copious amounts of spiced ale or mulled cider. So ‘wassailing’ might involve trick-or-treat visits around the village in expectation of food and drink. At parties a wassail bowl or cup would be passed around; you would take a drink, then turn to someone, bid them “wassail!” then with a kiss pass them the cup. The more the cup travelled round, the more passionate and rowdy things became…

In rural areas, the wassailing tradition included offering a libation to the orchards: some of the mulled cider would be poured at the roots of apple trees as a fertility offering. In the 12th century, it must be remembered, the rural English were still fundamentally pagan; it was only during this period that the Normans consolidated their power and made Christianity the predominant religion. If you were Anglo-Saxon and wanted to be part of the establishment, you had to adopt Norman ways. Wassailing ceremonies to celebrate the health of orchards are still held to this day, especially in cider-producing areas such as Somerset and Devon.

What does this time mean for us in our personal lives?

While many of the midwinter festivals celebrate the rebirth of the sun, I feel that perhaps their rollicking nature (typified by the Roman Brumalia) also to some extent was an expression of defiance of the darkness. Nature is a force majeure, a power beyond human control. For all our electricity, if the sun were to fail we would all die. This is as true for us as for our peasant forebears. We need to feel in control of our lives, but by cosmic standards we are powerless. We enjoy our independence, our autonomy as adults, yet we are utterly dependent on so much. Not just nature, but also other people: the engineers who run power plants, the farmers who grow our food, the truckers who transport goods, the staff who run the supermarkets, the binmen who collect our waste… How long would most of us survive if everyone else disappeared?

For many this has been a difficult year; in some respects it has almost been winter every day, a dark time and lacking in cheer. If right now you are full of fear and doubt, then – just for today – eat, drink and be merry. Reach out to others and remember that the sun will return.