The winter solstice, falling around December 21st each year, marks the shortest day and longest night of the year in the Northern hemisphere. The etymology of ‘solstice’ comes from Latin sources and breaks down as: sol = sun and sistere = to stand still or make stand still. The direct Latin etymology thus translates as ‘sun standing still’, capturing that brief pause in the sun's movement before reversing course, as seen from earth at the peak of summer or winter. What do we really know about this potent time of year?
In this offering, I give an outline of the academic viewpoint, and discuss the origins of modern pagan traditions and their place in current pagan belief systems. As always, the purpose of this post is merely to provide useful information and is certainly not intended to be a lecture on what anyone should, or should not, be doing in their personal practice.
Although this major seasonal transition was undoubtedly observed, evidence confirming exactly how early inhabitants celebrated the solstice in Britain remains scant. While much speculation abounds regarding Neolithic and ‘Druidic’ ritual practices tied to solstice seasons, the actual historical record is essentially non-existent. Modern reconstructions describe fire-centred ceremonies during winter months. However, the origins of implementing bonfires, evergreen decorations, or sun-welcoming rituals as part of solstice observations in pre-historic Britain remain largely unverified by academics.
The pagan festival of Yule is frequently wrongly attributed as an ancient ‘Celtic’ festival. Academic research on the history of Yule traditions indicates that the term and associated customs have Germanic/Norse origins which later became intertwined with medieval Christian winter celebrations in Britain. Etymologically, Yule is cognate with the Old Norse word jól referring to feasts or celebrations held during the winter months, stemming from pre-Christian northern European belief systems and winter solstice rituals. Early Germanic pagan groups celebrated Yule or Jól beginning several days before the winter solstice until January which involved large feasts, animal sacrifices to gods, and burning wood for light and warmth.
When early kingdoms in Britain, Germany, and Scandinavia became fully Christianised between approximately 7th-11th centuries, missionaries pragmatically absorbed Yule practices like feasting, fire rituals, and holiday timing into celebrations for Christmas and the new year. Records show the English word ‘Yule’ emerging in texts from around the 10th century referring to the 12 days of Christmas through Epiphany in January. Certain northern regions in Britain held on to identifying Yule more than Christmas proper.
The tradition of wassailing is another practice which is often regarded as ‘Celtic’ but again, this is incorrect. The term wassail originates from the Anglo-Saxon phrase waeshael, meaning ‘be well’ or ‘be in good health.’ In rural areas, wassailers went door to door singing blessings over the ingredients for a spiced ale using ‘lambswool’. This practice dates back at least to the Renaissance era in England. ‘Lambswool’ refers to a drink made from cider or ale mixed with either regular apples or crab apples, frequently combined with spices like nutmeg or ginger. The appearance of roasted apples floating in the drink evoked a resemblance to lamb's wool, hence the name.
The practice of creating lambswool and wassailing emerged during a period when apple orchards held enormous importance to communities in England. Cider and perry (pear cider) served as primary beverage options before hops brewing took over. As such, blessings over orchards and the first fruits of the harvest came to be associated with abundance, fertility, and the promise of spring - all meaningful during winter when stores often ran low. Records indicate farm labourers drank lambswool while blessing orchard trees since medieval times.
The traditional wassailing song refers to toasting the trees and cheering ‘to you our wassail cup we lift.’ Villagers sang songs passing a cup of spiced lambswool between them to awaken the roots of the tree, to elicit a fruitful harvest, and scare away evil spirits that might dampen the coming apple yield. They’d dance around the tree while banging pots and pans to ward off threats. In essence, lambswool came to symbolise the winter wassailing traditions in Britain's agricultural oral history. The act of communally drinking it was meant to bolster crops, community bonds, and seasonal change. Another form of wassailing involved traveling farm to farm, singing songs and sharing a wassail bowl filled with punch to spread holiday cheer in exchange for gifts.
Scholars note examples of this practice going back to at least the 13th century at all levels of society. Motivations for wassailing centred on fostering community spirit during the midwinter months while also promoting good fortune, abundance, and fertility for future seasons as the winter solstice brought renewal. Contemporary academics with expertise in early English customs agree wassailing took shape as rituals of neighbourly singing, well wishing, and spreading merriment, food, and drink during the darkest, coldest season. Records provide confirmations going back through the medieval era.
What about bringing mistletoe into the home? An ancient ‘Celtic’ ritual, right? Probably not. There remains no consensus among historians about the exact origins of hanging mistletoe in houses during the winter holidays. While alleged ancient druidic practice in continental Celtic regions reportedly involved harvesting mistletoe connected to rituals of winter solstice and fertility, substantial evidence confirming this as the source of modern indoor mistletoe decorating remains difficult to trace in academic literature.
In terms of documented evidence within Britain, it is thought that churches in medieval era Britain would hang mistletoe over doorways as a sign of peace to quarrelling spouses or enemies that entered. This is the likely origin of the tradition of kissing under the plant. Additional records indicate British servants began bringing mistletoe branches back from the woods and forests to decorate manor homes starting around the 18th century. This took firm hold during the Victorian period and has remained with us ever since.
So, while legends often speculate British pagans initiated indoor mistletoe use, present-day scholars have not verified these claims. Documented sources first describe the custom becoming popular in medieval church doorways or through more recent trends in the 1700-1800s among wealthier manor homeowners and servants retrieving forest boughs. More research into archaeological records may one day unveil mistletoe's mysterious leap from sacred ‘druidic’ plant to iconic Christmas kissing ball in ceilings across Britain. For now, earliest tangible confirmations remain with churches and aristocrats rather than with any ancient ritual relics.
What of the practices of the Gaels and Cymru? Does anything ancient survive in the folklore? In Wales, winter solstice celebrations may have links to older Calan Gaeaf festivities marked by burning logs all night, jumping over fires at dawn, and sailing small boats with candles across rivers on solstice morning. Traditional foods include pice ar y maen (Welsh cakes). The Mari Lwyd tradition is a custom observed in parts of Wales, particularly during the Christmas and New Year period, although its origins and specific rituals can vary regionally.
This tradition involves the use of a decorated horse skull (representing Mari Lwyd, meaning ‘Gray Mare’) mounted on a pole or carried by a person beneath a white sheet or cloth. The group parades through villages, engaging in rhyming challenges or verbal sparring with occupants of houses, attempting to gain entry in a playful, ritualised manner. It is often accompanied by singing, drinking, and merry making. Some scholars suggest that the Mari Lwyd tradition may have pre-Christian roots connected to fertility rites or ancient ceremonies associated with the turning of the year.
The winter solstice represented a crucial time in agricultural societies, signalling the rebirth of the sun and the hope for the revival of crops and life. Elements of Mari Lwyd, such as the horse (a symbol of strength, sovereignty, and vitality in many cultures), could be linked to these ancient beliefs. The act of parading with the Mari Lwyd, engaging in rhyming contests, and seeking entry to homes might symbolize a battle between winter and the potential for renewal, light, and life associated with the turning of the year. The exchange of verses, often in a humorous or challenging manner, could represent a symbolic struggle between darkness and light, where the community comes together to bring good luck and blessings for the year ahead.
In Scotland, historians note connections between solstices and traditions like Hogmanay (New Year's Eve) which once involved locals holding bonfires or balls of burning tar through streets while others kept hearth fires alight all night. Customs of 'first-footing' (trying to be the first to get your foot in the door of a neighbour’s house after midnight), and ‘redding’ (spring cleaning) have links to old Norse Yule practices. Foods and gifts like coal, whisky, and black buns and sun cakes with carvings may also share solstice symbolism.
The broader themes of Hogmanay, focusing on bidding farewell to the old year and welcoming the new, align with the broader themes of renewal, transition, and the turning of the year often associated with the winter solstice. Although direct academic sources explicitly linking Hogmanay customs to the winter solstice might be scarce, scholarly works on Scottish folklore, history, and cultural studies often discuss the origins and evolution of Hogmanay traditions. Valuable sources are the Carmina Gadelica compiled by Alexander Carmichael, and The Gaelic Otherworld, by John Gregorson-Campbell.
In Ireland, modern winter solstice festivals find ancient roots with pagans gathering at sites like Newgrange each December. The Gaelic Christian holiday St. Stephen's Day (Wren Day) on December 26th notably continues rituals of ‘hunting the wren’ representing the old year's end. Seasonal dishes reflect Ireland’s old agrarian culture with emphasis on meaningful foods like colcannon (cabbage and mashed potatoes). The ‘hunting of the wren’ ritual stems from an old Irish tradition connected to winter solstice celebrations, although details remain hazy over the years. Folklore suggests the practice may relate to end-of-year sacrifices or the myth of the robin redbreast's battle victory over the wren. Through Ireland's conversion to Christianity, the wren became incorporated into Saint Stephen’s Day festivities on December 26th.
In modern times, groups of boys and men known as ‘wren boys’ capture a (thankfully) hand-crafted wren, fastening it to a pole decorated with ribbons, evergreens, or holly. They travel door to door in costume, singing the traditional ‘wran’ song and collecting money for charity. The chorus runs as follows:
The wran, the wran, the king of all birds,
St. Stephen's Day was caught in the furze.
Up with the kettle and down with the pan,
Give us a penny to bury the wran.
Additional verses tell tales of the clever wren outwitting other birds in mythic contests and battles - possibly relating the ritual back to pre-Christian traditions of end-of-year sacrifices. Unfortunately, reliable resources do not provide the complete wran song lyrics, so if anyone has them, I’d be very interested. However, this excerpt captures the central theme of good luck bestowed upon the families who pay tribute to the dead wren for a prosperous new year ahead. The men eventually lay the wren on a small funeral pyre, tossing it into the air when lit. Releasing the wren’s spirit back to the old year let the line between years reopen as communities moved back towards summer.
Historians theorise this sacred seasonal rite survived generations as both entertainment and a symbolic ritual allowing communities to leave the past behind for brighter times ahead. The wren's burial grants closure, while heralding in the solstice’s shifting sunlight.
How about Yule logs and evergreens in the home? They must be ancient, surely? Again, this is uncertain. The concept of a Yule log may originally stem from Nordic pre-Christian winter solstice rituals involving fire and evergreens, but specifics on any similar British regional customs lack historical evidence. The first documented use of ‘Yule log’ emerges in English verse and carols from the early 1600s referring to welcoming in light and warmth. This has since evolved into decorative evergreen logs and, eventually, the marzipan or chocolate roll cakes decorated to resemble Yule logs which are familiar today.
During the Victorian era in England, the Yule log became conflated with Christmas among the aristocracy. Lords of the manor ignited enormous logs, continuing fires over the 12 days of Christmas while servants decorated homes with smaller Yule logs as warming symbols through winter.
Regional British folk customs persisted too - like Scottish practices from medieval times through the 1800s of extinguishing then re-lighting a large cinnamon-scented oak log chunk on Christmas with barrel taps hammered into the sides for wassail drinks. While the idea of Yule predates Britain in ancient Germanic mythology, many Victorian Christmas conventions popularised the symbolic Yule log we envision today, as families worldwide mimic aristocratic British festivities from the reign of Queen Victoria.
Regarding the history of using evergreen plants as winter decorations in Britain, a clear origin remains frustratingly elusive. Claims of pre-Christian druids using holly, ivy, and evergreen boughs in winter solstice rituals lack any substantive evidence. Speculation abounds from medieval records onward, but solid historical confirmation is scarce. A few reliable records exist of medieval parish churches in England and Wales decorating with evergreens like holly, rosemary, bay, and ivy by the 15th-16th century, particularly for Christmas. Holly and ivy represented the nativity story, while rosemary and bay symbolized Mary or the resurrection.
For the Victorians, using evergreen foliage indoors lost any Christian significance as the wealthy brought forest greens into homes purely as decoration for holiday events. The origins of the ‘Christmas tree’ likely evolved in the late Medieval period, invented by Christians to celebrate Christmas. Evidence suggests it originated in the Upper Rhine regions of France and western Germany. The first documented reference to a ‘Christmas tree’ appears in the 1400s when a Guild of Bakers reported seeing a fir tree decorated with apples, wafers, gingerbread, and garlands in a hospital.
The German husband of Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, brought the tradition of the Christmas tree to Windsor Castle in 1841, sparking Britain’s obsession with the practice. Some scholars suggest that some aspects of the Christmas tree might have connections to Roman and Norse customs. Roman pagans were described by classical authors as decorating their homes with greenery during Saturnalia, a festival celebrating Saturn, and Norse peoples had traditions involving evergreens during the Yule festival. While mixed with older symbolic meaning, the earliest concrete origins of evergreens in winter solstice customs across socio-economic British families date from the late Medieval and Victorian period from scholarly perspectives. Earlier non-Christian connections remain grounded more in myth than hard evidence. Tracing backward from the modern tradition leads to hazy and uncertain pictures painted by history.
While the symbolic darkness and emerging light marking the winter solstice historically spawned traditions worldwide, evidence substantiating exactly how Neolithic and Iron Age Britons may have celebrated remains circumstantial at best. Multi-cultural migrations through the ages undoubtedly filtered a blend of solstice-connected rituals into modern British seasonal customs through the medieval era into today. Their precise origins and evolutions, however, remain essentially mysterious.
Regardless of what is known of the winter solstice or not, we, as modern pagans, enjoy our connection to this time of year. It feels significant and a necessary part of the ritual cycle. You might be wondering what my personal thoughts are around the winter solstice and what it represents for me? In the cosmological model I work with, Samhain marks the entry into the dark, feminine half of the year. Between Samhain and the winter solstice, we experience something I refer to as the ‘death/sleep phase’. Everything has either died back or is in a state of hibernation. It is almost like a void which holds nothing but potential; a womb perhaps, awaiting fertilisation so that life can re-generate. For me, that’s exactly what the return of the sun represents: the masculine principle, the light, penetrating the land and ‘fertilising’ it, so that seeds can begin to germinate. Father sun stays with the mother for a couple of days (as he stands still in the sky) and then continues his journey, leaving her pregnant with potential.
Not long after the solstice, life seems to explode into action as the very first spring plants begin to appear, and the bellies of the ewes swell as they prepare to give birth around Imbolc. Thus, for me, the solstice represents hope, renewal, fertilisation, and the re-assurance of the continuation of life. And so, as 2023 draws to a close, I leave you with this blessing:
May this sacred time of turning inward prepare us to shine our brightest lights in the coming seasons ahead. Wishing you all a joyful Yule, a merry Christmas, happy holidays, or however you choose to celebrate the season, and all the very best for 2024!