Yule

A Yule Story

The earth froze. Far away the where the ice had not yet grasped the air in its fiery breath, rain fell upon the rivers so that they swelled in the darkness and burst their banks. Men and animals fled to the high ground to escape the floods, but the hills were covered with snow and the cattle scratched in vain for frozen grass.
Pale light filled the sky and the men knew that day had broken. They looked to the sky for signs of easing the dreadful conditions, but all they saw were the black, hanging clouds above the hilltops that spoke of more snow and bitter weather.
Those who had laughed and sang when the sun was high and warm grew silent. The harps were stilled. Those lucky enough to have shelter from the elements drew their furs around them and huddled together, only venturing into the icy wind when the animals needed feeding or there was water to be drawn from the one well still unfrozen. They tried not to think of the travelers, making their way along the Ridgeway for the winter solstice. It was bleak along the top of the hills even on the mildest days, but now...
The old women shuddered and hushed the children who were too young to hide their questions. Would the sun rise again? This was the question on everyone's lips. Would the child of the Triple Goddess be born to bring life and hope to this ice bound world, or would winter hold stay forever, snow and frost eking their way into carefully hoarded food until even the strongest perished alone under the rock?
"Will the priestess come, Granda?" asked the small child. "You said she'd be here to celebrate Yule with us this year?"

"I don't know, little one." the old man shook his head and pulled back the wooden shutter from the window to peer out into the flurries of white. "I don't think there's much hope. We'll just have to pray that they have found shelter somewhere before the storm struck."

The child seemed about to speak again, but he saw the fear on his grandfather's face and kept his peace, slipping his small hand inside the larger one for comfort and reassurance.
At least they still had food, although they did not feel much like eating when they thought of the small party stuck somewhere along the hill. They gathered around the fire and spoke in low voices, eating their stew quickly and seeking their beds, as if trying to escape from their fears in sleep.
Some time in the middle of the night, the boy awoke. Bright moonlight was shining on his face. The wind had dropped and an eerie calm enveloped the round house, broken only by heavy snores of the sleeping folk.
The boy got up and shook his grandfather.

"We must go and find the priestess, Granda, or the sun won't rise in the morning."

The old man muttered in his sleep, but the boy persisted, bringing him his fur lined boots and his warmest cloak. Together they went out into the still white world, marveling at the fullness of the moon that shone as bright as day.

"This way," the boy tugged at the old man's arm, leading him down the hill and into a ditch where the quoit lay half buried under the snow.

"How do you know?" the old man grumbled, but deep in his heart he'd heard the call as well, faint at first, but stronger as they neared the stones.

There under the capstan they found them, huddled together for warmth and still alive. The priestess' eyes glittered with the power she had called to herself, but she greeted them with a smile and helped the others as they made their way slowly up to the roundhouse.
The priestess looked up to the sky and urged them to hurry, to wake everyone that the ritual should not be late. Bleary eyed they stumbled from their furs, holding the birch torches in the snow as the priestess danced the dance of welcome to the son of the Triple Goddess. As they finished the dance and stood watching the moon fade in the dark and the sky lighten above the hills, suddenly a brightness shone from behind the highest peak.
A great roar rose from the people as they greeted the sun that had returned to them for another year.
The roar masked the groans of the priestess, caught in her own birth pangs, brought on by the journey and the hardship she had suffered. The women took her inside and tended her until another shout rang through the roundhouse and the healthy cry of a new born babe rang out for all to hear.

"You see, Granda, everything was all right, " the boy said solemnly as they sipped the Yule cup together around the fire. "The sun has returned and we have our own child from the Goddess to look after."

"Aye, lad." The old man's eyes misted over as he ruffled the boy's hair.

The Goddess had shown them all that her greatest gifts were shared amongst them and that spring would come again to the land.

Written for Yule by Sarah Head

Definitions of Yule from several sources:

Norse solstitial festival, the season of the sun's rebirth, assimilated to Christmas in the Middle Ages, along with its pagan trappings: holly, ivy, pineboughs, lighted trees, wassail bowls, sucking pigs, Yule logs, carols, gifts and feasting.
Some said the god of Yule was Kris Kringle, i.e., a Christ of the Orb, a new solar king. But most northern folk remember the reborn god as Frey. They said, "Yule is celebrated in honor of Frey."
The Women's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets; Barbara G. Walker

The Goddess gives birth to a son, the God, at Yule (circa December 21){editors note: this year it is December 22, 1999}. This is in no way an adaptaion of Christianity. The Winter Solstice has long been viewed as a time of divine births. Mithras was said to have been born at this time. The Christians sinply adopted it for their use in 273 C.E. (Common Era).
Yule is a time of the greatest darkness and is the shortest day of the year. Earlier peoples noticed such phenomena and supplicated the forces of nature to lengthen the days and shorten the nights. Wiccans sometimes celebrate Yule just before dawn, then watch the Sun rise as a fitting finale to their efforts.
Since the God is also the Sun, this marks the point of the year when the Sun is reborn as well. Thus, the Wicca light fires or candles to welcome the Sun's returning light. The Goddess, slumbering throught the winter of Her Labor, rest after Her delivery.
Yule is the remnant of early rituals celebrated to hurry the end of winter and the bounty of spring, when food was once again readily available. To contemporary Wiccans it is a reminder that ultimate product of death is rebirth, a comforting thought in these days of unrest.
Wicca, a Guide for the Solitary Practioner; Scott Cunningham

Cernunnos, "The Horned One" is a Celtic god of fertility, life, animals, wealth, and the underworld. He was worshipped all over Gaul, and his cult spread into Britain as well. Cernunnos is depicted with the antlers of a stag, sometimes carries a purse filled with coin. The Horned God is born at the Winter Solstice, marries the goddess at Beltane, and dies at the Summer Solstice. He alternates with the goddess of the moon in ruling over life and death, continuing the cycle of death, rebirth and reincarnation.
Found at Encyclopedia Mythica, by Dr. Anthony E. Smith

Much more WONDERFUL information can be found here, Mike Nichol's webpages.