To our ancestors, it wasn't so complicated. Around February 1 they went out into the fields and turned over the soil in preparation for planting. They called this time of year Candlemas or Brigid's Day or Imbolc or Iomelc or even Lupercalia.
They certainly didn't consult astrology because most of them were illiterate -- and in medieval Europe only priests knew anything about astrology.
Around February 1 was the time when the first stirrings of life took place in a soil that had been sleeping since Samhane (Halloween). For this reason, it was also known as the Festival of the Quickening ("quick," of course, being the old term for "alive." The term "quick and the dead" simply means "those who are alive and those who are dead." An old joke in San Francisco, where cabbies drive like maniacs, used to say there were only two types of pedestrians -- the quick and the dead.)
PBS broadcast a four-part documentary last week about the Irish in America. Quite matter of factly, the announcer told how the Irish "broke the fields on St. Brigid's Day and planted the potatoes on St. Patrick's Day." He was only reporting the simple facts. What he didn't say was that the two "saints' days" were chosen originally because of the people's planting methods, not because two "saints" happened to have been born on those days.
The February-first festival has so many different names because it is actually derived from many different traditions in different parts of the world. Let me briefly outline the many names for the day and explain some of the traditions.
Imbolc, the more common name, is of Celtic derivation and means, literally, "in the belly." Most likely, it originally referred to the lambing process (which to the Celts took place at this time of year). It referred to lambs "in the belly" of the ewe.) To modern pagans, however, it refers to the first green plants of spring which are stirring "in the belly" of the earth mother.
Oimelc, literally meaning "ewe's milk," also recognized this time of year as the Celtic lambing season.
Brigid's Day was the common name for this festival over most of the British Isles. Brigid (pronounced "breed" by the early Celts) was the name given to the Goddess in her maiden aspect.
This "day of quickening" was seen to be the earliest sign of birth of plantlife in the earth's belly, and thus it was the earth goddess as a young child or young girl.
Brigid was the primary goddess of the Irish, of course, and when the Church found the people of Ireland honoring the Goddess Brigid at this time of year they invented a fictitious "St. Bridget," and named February 2 after her! Every woman who is married, by the way, is given the honorary title of the Maiden Goddess -- Bride!
Candlemas, which like Brigid's Day, has been usurped by the Church, was the time when candles were lit for the earth in her "maiden" phase. Taking place at perhaps the coldest time of the year (and hence also known as "midwinter's day," this festival was also a good time for candlemaking. Since everyone in newly Christianized Europe lit candles on February 2 anyway, the Church declared it a time for "blessing candles."
Lupercalia. In Roman times, the first two weeks of February were a period of joyful, torch-lit parades in honor of the goddess Juno Februata and of the rural god Lupercus (the same as the Greek god Pan). It was a time for people to express their love and to make romantic commitments for the coming year. (I'll be talking about Valentine's Day -- the modern equivalent, in two weeks.)
Traditionally, Imbolc was a time of finding joy in the middle of winter. Fires would be lit, in honor of the coming spring. One old custom is the placing of a single candle in every window of the house, to brighten up the night for passers-by.
Other traditions of this holiday include making "Brigit's crosses" of straw. These crosses, symbolizing the reborn sun (the sun's rays make a cross), are placed around the home for protection during the coming year.
Often, ritual circles would be conducted at Imbolc with one woman traditionally wearing a crown of candles -- as a symbol both of the goddess as maiden and of the sun whose return will guarantee another spring.
Another tradition at Candlemas was the forecasting of weather. An old British rhyme stated: "If Candlemas Day be bright and clear, there'll be two winters in the year." If that sounds familiar, remember we now know February 2 as "Groundhog Day," with the same basic message!
To our ancestors, the progress of the year was a sacred thing. Certain seasons were important for performing certain actions: breaking the soil on Brigid's Day, planting seeds on Patrick's Day, fertilizing the soil on Easter Day and harvesting corn (grain) on Lammas, for example.
But also important was the process of identifying oneself with the changing seasons and recognizing oneself as a participant in the annual process of creativity.
Let me explain that a bit. Modern religions isolate people from nature. They tend to be alienating. People are taught that the earth is the enemy, that what is physical is evil, and that only the spirit world -- the world of an extrinsic deity -- is good and important.
In such a system, humans must focus their energies on attempting to get some outside god to intervene with nature in humans' behalf. We pray to God for good crops. We light novenas for good weather. We relinquish to external deities our responsibilities in regard to the earth.
When I was a child we lived for a time in Idaho and worked a farm there. A neighbor of ours was a devout Christian and always went to church and prayed and had supreme faith in his God. He would go to church when all the other farmers were out cultivating their fields for spring planting. He spent his time praying in the evenings, when other farmers were out seeding their fields.
And he always had marginal crops or outright crop failures. He had given the responsibility for success to the deity and had given up on personal responsibility.
One of my favorite stories is about a farmer who took over an abandoned field that for 20 years had been allowed to lie fallow. It was choked with weeds and filled with brambles and roots and small trees.
Tirelessly he cleared the land, tilled it and planted it. He kept it watered all summer long and weeded it carefully. In the fall, it produced a bountiful crop.
A preacher walking by noticed such a beautiful field and exclaimed, "What a wonderful harvest the Good Lord has provided for you!"
"Humph!," the farmer scoffed, "the Good Lord had this field all to himself for 20 years and you should have seen the mess he made of it."
A religion where power is given to an external deity (extrinsic power) alienates people from themselves.
The ancient pagan religion was an intrinsic one. Power is seen as arising from within the individual, not from outside the individual. This makes human beings partners with nature in the creative process. We are each of us responsible not only for ourselves but also for that local portion of the universe in which we live.
Responsibility is the driving force behind all ancient festivals, and the Festival of Quickening is no exception. This time of year in the British Isles would have been a miserably cold season. A good time to stay inside and isolate oneself from one's neighbors and from the earth. But to a people tied closely to nature and to the community, each person had a responsibility to take a hand in making certain there was a coming springtime.
They would go out into the fields and begin clearing the land for crops. They would light candles in their windows to spread some cheer to their neighbors. They would spend some time making candles for the remainder of the winter. They would visit their neighbors and have a midwinter's party.
Perhaps lighting a candle would let the earth know we were ready for springtime to return. Perhaps breaking the soil would help "wake up" the sleeping maiden. Perhaps caring for the lamb in the belly of the ewe would awaken the sleeping Brigid in the belly of the mother earth. The symbolic participation of people in the processes of nature was also important as a means by which humans recognized the seasonal powers of earth.
But most important were the actions taken to bring about change itself -- the acts of being responsible for the creative processes within the earth.
Humans don't just sit back and wait for food to be brought to us -- like some animal in a cage (though many men traditionally have taken that role, mistaking the position of caged ape for a sign of personal power). We take an active part in the process by tilling the soil and caring for domestic livestock. Civilization itself was built upon that ability of human beings to accept a measure of responsibility for their own world.
The changing seasons remind us of our dependence on nature for all our needs, but they also remind us of the necessity of taking responsibility for our own actions and for our role in the process of creation.
Blessed be!