Anchorage Daily News

Sixty years ago Kenai was a sleepy little village and for many one of the highlights of the year was a winter solstice celebration. Wood was gathered and families and neighbors would dress warmly and gather around a bonfire on Dec. 21. Children would roast hotdogs or moose strips, sometimes songs were sung and when the heated spruce sap exploded in a shower of sparks, a bit of food would be fed to the fire to acknowledge the presence of the ancestors. The gathering around the fire was an affirmation of family and community and their connection to the land and its seasons at a powerful time of year for northern peoples.

Recognition of the winter solstice seemed to occur more among Dena'ina families than newly arrived Outsiders. Traditional Dena'ina called the winter solstice "ni'i'jaghidaq," roughly meaning "a time when things are divided." The divide, of course, is between the days getting shorter and shorter and the days beginning to lengthen.

Most cultures, but particularly those of the north, recognize the winter solstice as a spiritually potent time of the year. Christmas can be traced back to the Council of Nicea in A.D. 325 when the Roman Emperor Constantine was trying to meld the old Roman sun worship with Christianity and the council was charged with establishing the principles of what would become the Roman Catholic Church. They placed Jesus of Nazareth's birth on Dec. 25, the day of the Roman celebration culminating the end of Saturnalia, a Mardi Gras-like event of harvest and renewal, which ended with Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, "the birthday of the unconquered sun," celebrated a few days after the winter solstice when it was apparent the days were lengthening.

The Santa Claus myth (the name borrowed from Germanic peoples) now largely trivialized by Disneyesqe caricatures and intense merchandizing and gifting also has its roots in a winter solstice event. The indigenous people of northern Scandinavia, the Sami, had a pantheon of spirits through which they interpreted their world which included Beiwe, their goddess of sunlight and sanity. A winter solstice ceremony was held to assist Beiwe through the difficult part of her year-long journey during which the shaman would take a trip into the cosmic realms to meet Beiwe and intercede on behalf of those having difficulty with sanity. To contact Beiwe, the shaman went on a dangerous spirit journey on his sleigh pulled by domesticated reindeer activated through achieving a near-death experience by ingesting a controlled amount of Amanita muscaria, a psychotropic and potentially lethal mushroom. (Note: don't try this at home; you have neither the pharmacological knowledge nor the ritual context of the Sami shaman through which to use Amanita muscaria.) The shaman-trip became today's Santa Claus journey with his sleigh full of toys pulled by reindeer.

As extreme northern peoples, the Sami recognized that sanity required resolving the biological and psychological demands of the dramatic change in light throughout the solar year. But the shaman's trip wasn't just about winter darkness; December depression could be caused by life events suppressed in the unconscious that needed to be brought out -- to see the light of day as it were. According to Jade Gregory, the way Sami resolved suppressed anxieties was through forgiveness. Forgiveness, of course, is also the message of Christianity when you strip away the social and political activities of many modern churches. The winter solstice is a time of forgiveness.

According to Rachel Steer, writing in Alaska Magazine, there has been a resurgence of winter solstice events. All involve a bonfire: the universal symbol of togetherness among northern peoples. Maybe you will participate in one this year (tonight and Sunday night are of equal length so take your pick). Like the folks of old Kenai you might feed the fire with a bit of food to recognize all who have gone before us. And we should take time to remember that tonight is the time things once again "change over" in the dramatic theater of light that is our northern year.

And either this night, or Christmas, or both, think about forgiveness -- ask for it and give it -- and our souls, like the coming months, will be a little lighter.

Alan Boraas is a professor of anthropology at Kenai Peninsula College.

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