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December 3, 2005 Andrea's Big Solstice Theory Part I: It's depressing 
Those who know me well in real life or on-line have been treated now several times to my exhaustive and repetitive treatises on What The Solstice Season Means. So I won't repeat it this year, but instead, drop it out by little hints for a few weeks. And Mimilou has inspired me to begin with Rudolph today, though I fear she did not at all intend to do so: Rudolph. He is born a freak, shunned by all for his difference, lives a brutal life, is cast out by his community, and just when all seems most desperate and that he must be lost--it is determined that he is useful after all, and maybe his freakish deformity will actually come to some good. In fact, his freakish deformity saves a whole island of toys with freakish deformities of their own. It is undoubtedly a harsh story, much like many fairy-tales of old; and these days, we are given to shielding our children from these things. But I think it would be a mistake to assume that they don't already know them. It is a harsh story, but a true one; people with physical differences are cast out by their communities. They do live harder lives than the norm. For example, dwarf adults earn less on average than their normal-height siblings, adjusted for educational attainment and so on. This is a hard world for anyone who is different. It might be getting better, but it's still hard. But this is not to the point: Rudolph is a very Solstice story. Rudolph is, in fact, the essence of the Solstice; if there were no dark, no despair, it would never be told in this season. Likewise if he were then acclaimed for no particular purpose. It would not be a Solstice story if he were saved for his own sake, instead of his ability to perform some good. What is the Solstice, after all? It is not the end of winter, or the beginning of summer. It is the day things stop getting darker. If one were to use the analogy of an illness, it is not the day one is cured, or the day one is finally able to sit in a chair by the fire, but the day when one's temperature stops rising and one no longer wakes each day feeling worse than the day before. ~~~~~ And now it's my turn to be blasphemous: It's a fairly well-accepted fact that Jesus was not born in December. If he were, the shepherds would not be out watching their flocks by night, but shuddering around a fire with their hands wrapped around whatever hot drink they could muster. What I've seen indicates his actual birthdate was probably in September, since that's when the Roman census (which is what brought them to Bethlehem, you'll recall) was held. The pagan religions were dominant at the time (ah, karma) and so it was only natural for the celebration of the birth to be moved to some day when it would be less conspicuous, so as to mitigate the possibility of being tossed to the lions. But why the Winter Solstice? I think it's because the symbolism matches so perfectly: It's not the day when everything is finally better (that would be Easter, after all). It's not a day of triumph. It's the day when things stop getting worse. The birth of Jesus is another harsh story: A young unmarried woman finds herself pregnant, and is almost cast aside by her fiance. He decides to marry her after all, but then they are forced to go to a far away city for a census, only they don't arrive in time to get a room and Mary is forced to give birth in a barn. The birth is marked as quite a special occasion, to be sure, but it is itself not the end of the story. And the celebration around his birth has absolutely nothing to do with what a fine fellow he is, or that it's ok to be born in a barn, or that Joseph wouldn't have been perfectly in his right to toss her aside--the celebration is because of the purpose he will serve. He's here to save us, although we don't deserve it. Much like Rudolph, actually. ~~~~~ We Three Kings is actually five verses long. Did you know that? Sadly, I know it by heart; I think it's very paganny: We three kings of Orient are
bearing gifts, we traverse afar.
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
following yonder star.
Born a king on Bethlehem's plain. Myrrh is mine; it's bitter perfume Frankincense to offer have I. Glorious now, behold him arise: Star of wonder, star of night, It's not a cheerful song, is it? Gathering gloom, dying, locked in a tomb, offered up as a sacrifice--and all foretold in the future; the time of the song is simply the beginning of the story. Even "Joy to the World" is not a completely happy song. No more let sins and sorrows grow,
nor thorns infest the ground:
he comes to make his blessings flow
far as the curse is found.
~~~~~ And what about the Grinch? Another outcast, another person living a harsh life, who decides to take revenge on the community and even manages to successfully do it. He steals everything. What causes him to repent is the simple realization that good, or Christmas, or the Solstice, however you want to phrase it, is going to happen despite all the ill he has caused: or to be obnoxiously metaphorical about it, that he can't stop the light from coming back. And what does he do? Does he beg forgiveness? Does he go to jail? Does he need to do community service? No. All he does is bring back what he took. The happy ending is that things go back to the way they were. The happy ending is no improvement at all on the sad beginning, in fact, except that the Grinch is in a better frame of mind and we all have reaffirmed for us again that nothing we do or don't do and nothing that someone else does or doesn't do will stop the light from coming back. You know, considering the content of the story, it's a bit surprising it's so popular: It wouldn't work at any other season for any other holiday. It would be weird and a bit depressing. But then the Solstice itself is a bit depressing: It's the start of winter. Posted by Andrea at December 3, 2005 9:03 PM under The Winter Holiday of Your Choice! EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments Well, throwing Seasonal Affective Disorder into the mix doesn't make it any cheerier, nor do the days of grey and cold. But, I like the concept of things not worsening, and even keel, or possible small improvement leading to hope. It is a time of rest: the plants and large mammels go dormant to wait, to anticipate the birth of spring. But remind me of my chipper take on things when I don't want to crawl out of bed for 3 months. Posted by: Running2Ks at December 3, 2005 11:05 PM
Maybe it's just me, but I don't find your solstice theory depressing at all. I agree with you that the birth of Jesus likely happened in a very harsh context, and I like the idea of things not worsening. It's kind of an encouraging "it's-all-uphill-from-here" kind of analogy. As for Rudolph, I remember as a child feeling so sad for Rudolph and his elf friend ("I want to be a Dentist") because they were so horribly bullied. Posted by: Sue at December 3, 2005 11:24 PM
I've never thought of it this way, Andrea. I'm definitely going to give this more thought. Posted by: Suzanne at December 4, 2005 8:03 PM
No no no. I'm all for putting the solstice back into the month of December. I don't know how catchy that would be on a billboard but still. Posted by: gawdessness at December 5, 2005 12:12 PM
Now you've got me racking my brain about all the Christmas carols I know! I've always liked "O Christmas Tree", just because it's about a tree, and we should all appreciate simple things like that. Posted by: Abbey at December 5, 2005 1:36 PM
One thing I actually appreciate about Rudolf is the fact the Santa and Rudolf's parents are just as flawed as the other characters. I remember watching as a child and being confused that the parents would treat their own son that way, just because of something different. And then when Santa did! But I think it's a good lesson: no one is perfect, after all, and we all continue to learn and grow as the days go by. Posted by: Amy at December 5, 2005 3:35 PM
Amy--that's a good point. Gawdessness--I think you should draw one up and see. :) Everyone--just wait! I'm not done. ;) Posted by: Andrea at December 5, 2005 5:14 PM
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Change is God (Octavia Butler, Parable Series) "We cannot seek or attain health, wealth, learning, justice or kindness in general. Action is always specific, concrete, individualized, unique." Benjamin Jowett Email Frances! frances AT athenadreaming DOT org You can email her mother too (that's me):
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