Darkness and the fall of Light: Meditations in winter

An Online Presentation of "The Spoken Arts"

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Winter arrives, a season of stillness and waiting, where the earth seems to hold its breath. Beneath the frost-covered ground, seeds dream of spring, yet above, the world dims. This is the time of longest shadows, when the days are shortest, and the heart instinctively seeks light.

In Christmas, the miracle of birth amid cold speaks of hope: a child in a manger, fragile yet divine, offering the promise of renewal. Perhaps a myth straining to become; yet the promise is our future. In the candles of Chanukah, we remember resistance, resilience, and the enduring glow of light that defies the dark.

At the Winter Solstice, the turning of the year whispers ancient truths: the sun’s return is slow but certain, a cosmic promise of life’s continuity. Across the world, other traditions—the Hindu festival of Pancha Ganapati, Kwanzaa’s celebration of African heritage, the Zuni and Hopi Soyal ceremonies—remind us of the human need to gather, reflect, and invoke hope as we move through the year’s threshold.

Still. This season is not gentle for all. For those in war, poverty, exile, or grief, winter sharpens its edges, and the celebrations of others can feel distant. Let us hold in our hearts the displaced, the unhoused, and those enduring war or injustice. Bless the quiet of winter, the shelter of home, the bonds of family and spirit. Bless the darkness for teaching us to see the light.

we share our warmth where the cold bites hardest. In stillness, remember: endings become beginnings, light follows shadow, and winter always gives way to spring. Let this be a season of grace, gratitude, and gathering warmth—for all.

Perhaps the telling of the narratives of peace,
again, again, and again
will incarnate them among us: the Word, given flesh.