Midwinter - Traditional Yule
By Shade McCurdy
Only a short time ago, when Sól traveled her lowest path across the sky, many of our folk celebrated Yuletide. I wrote an article at that time which inquired as to why some people celebrate the holiday at different times, which has been a contested topic in our heathen circles.
As I mentioned in the previous article, Ynglingasaga relates that Óðinn commanded the Swedes to hold “a blót in the middle of winter for a good crop.”
Óláfs Saga Helga reinforces this, telling of how Ólvir of Egg and others were gathered in Tronders to hold “great sacrifices at midwinter.” And that “They sacrificed for frith and good winter weather.” When questioned by Olaf II, Ólvir denied the sacrifices, saying that the people only had a Jólaveizla, or a “Yule Feast.”
Our saga literature references Jólablót, Sónarblót, Þorrablót, and Miðsvetrarblót which are all said to have taken place at or around midwinter—presumably as part of the original Yuletide festivities.
So when was midwinter?
Our heathen ancestors divided the year into two seasons—summer and winter. By the lunisolar reckoning, the winter lasted six moons. Midwinter Night—or Hökunótt, “Hewing/Chopping Night”—referred to the night of the full moon which followed the first new moon after the winter solstice. Hökunótt falls on February 1st of this year.
It was during King Hákon’s Christianization efforts of Norway that Yule observances were moved from Hökunótt to coincide with Christmas. Likely because the outright banning of the heathen holiday would have been met with greater resistance than an incremental process. This is similar to the nominal conversion of Iceland in 1000CE, where certain private heathen customs were still tolerated for a couple of centuries.
But let us ponder the significance of the original timing, which is determined by the co-mingling of both solar and lunar cycles.
At midwinter, the fierce forces of frost have been felt in full. For a relevant example, many of us have just weathered a big blizzard which blanketed the country in many inches of ice and snow. Under these kinds of conditions, travel becomes difficult, if not downright dangerous.
In many ways, this time tests our resilience. We are not merely at the start of winter, but truly in the thick of it, relying on our preparedness and endurance to see us through to the abundance of summer once more. In the past, wisely portioning reserves from the last harvest could be the difference between life and death. At the turning of midwinter, there is some encouragement that we have made it through the coldest of its clutches, and warmer days will soon be upon us.
As such, midwinter marks a return of the sun to her former and future power. Where we recently recognized the moment of her lowest ride at the solstice, now Sól’s return is evident, and we may rejoice in her gradual ascension back to the peak of the sky! So too has her brother, Máni, measured the completion of this celestial cycle—having vanished and returned brightly anew.
Even if we have recently celebrated with family, given gifts, and honored our gods and ancestors—let us take this opportunity to extend the frith once more and guarantee the bounty of next summer’s harvest.
Hail the Gods!
Hail Jólnir!
Happy Hökunótt!