Three French hens

The third day of Christmas takes on a new air.
We're tempted to work but we must be aware
that this is the season to look deep inside
for hope and for peace in which we may abide.

The modern individual "knows" that myth is a dirty word. We use the word to describe anything, particularly statements and stories that we believe to be unabashedly made up, pure fictions. One of the goals of 19th century science was to demythologize everything, and we have to admit that if they have got us to use the term "myth" as a derogatory term, they did a pretty good job.

Nevertheless, we have seen over the past week that there is more to myth than just silly made up stories. The whole reason for having Christmas now, the reason that there has been some kind of celebration at this time of year for almost as long as their have been humans in northern climes is that something occurs that can only happen now. The sun "dies" and is "reborn" and through its "sacrifice" the rest of us can live. Overstated? Well, yes and no.

On the one hand, we have a very nice metaphorical description of what is happening cosmologically. (And for those of you interested in just how widespread this kind of mythological description of reality may be, I would suggest Santillana & Dechend's Hamlet's Mill.) Scientists and non-scientists, materialists and non-materialists alike agree that the days get shorter until 21 December, and afterward they start getting longer again (until they reach their longest point around 21 June and then they start getting shorter again). This is the yearly cycle and this cycle is such an intimate part of our lives that we give it absolutely no thought at all. What is more, because we never think about it, we don't really care about it. And, as we all know, what we don't care about, doesn't matter, and what doesn't matter is meaningless. In other words, what was once a central (or at least more prominent) part of our lives has become meaningless, have our lives in general become more meaningless?

This brings us to a very important question: what gives meaning to our lives? I know it is one we don’t think about very often, but that was also something that contributed to this special time of year. The sun is at its weakest, and we were, traditionally at least, weaker as well and in the, literally, least physical time of year. The long, cold, dark nights of winter were an excellent opportunity to reflect. The festival of light was an opportunity to strengthen ourselves innerly for the challenges which were soon coming again "out there" in the world. In other words, for a variety of reasons, physical, cosmological, and mythical, this was a spiritual (or at least, metaphysical) time of year. To paraphrase the late, great John Lennon, all we are saying, is give myth a chance.