Seasons Greeting – a reflection on hope and peace

We are mere days from Christmas. Hubby and I have just taken the first of many Christmas saunas, 45 minutes spent in a warm enclosed space while outside the winter night deepens into hues of dark blue and an owl hoots in the distance. A much-needed break in these last few days leading up to Christmas, days normally spent scurrying around with endless to-do lists. Not so this year, because for the first time in 36 years, I’m not in charge of Christmas—my daughter is.

People have asked me if I mind her taking over—apparently many older women cling on to being Mrs Christmas for their entire family. Not so me. I am delighted—plus, I think it is important to respect my daughter’s desire to create her own Christmas traditions now that she has a family of her own.

I will, however, contribute in kind to the celebrations, and as my work schedule in December has been very hectic, there has been some stress. Sometimes, I get the impression all those to-do lists, all that stress, makes us lose sight of the truly important Christmas message—that of hope.

One does not have to be Christian to interpret the birth of that innocent child two thousand years ago as a small, if blazing, ray of hope. For a better world, for a brighter, more inclusive future.

At present, this world of ours sure needs a major, major injection of hope—and of the other main ingredient in the Christmas message: peace. “Peace unto mankind” the angels sang, but mankind isn’t listening, is it? It isn’t only the open conflicts, it is also the increasingly divisive society, a society where cliques retire behind their own interpretation of truth and are hostile to all who don’t agree with them.

Societies need the open discourse, the sharing of divergent opinions to develop. I think most of us agree in principle with the notion of a fully inclusive society, one in which everyone, no matter ethnicity or beliefs, are welcome. But sometimes the leap between principle and reality is long, because it can be hard to overcome ingrained biases—and social media algorithms.

When social media first popped up, it opened up the world. Suddenly, people in Sweden could “talk” to people in the US, and it was all quite, quite mind-boggling. At last, people from all walks of life would be able to share their thoughts with others, and reasonably this would lead to a more open society. Did it? Nope. Instead, social media has become extremely divisive—and has been used to manipulate voters in several elections.

“Truths” on social media have to be handled with a gigantic pinch of salt. Sad.

For me personally, social media has led to several fantastic friendships. Most of my new friends (except they’re not new, not anymore, not when we’ve known each other over a decade) share my values—which does not translate into agreeing about everything.

One of my friends on FB is a friend I more or less constantly argue with, because we stand at opposite ends of the political spectrum and have totally different opinions about almost everything. But we do agree on one point: both of us grow by listening to each other. As my friend once said, “it is important to step out of the echo chamber.” And it is, because only spending time with those who agree with you, reasonably leaves you very deaf to all those who don’t agree—and may have valid reasons for doing so.

My challenge to myself in 2025 is therefore to always approach discussions with people I vehemently disagree with by taking a mental walk in their shoes—before throwing myself in a heated argument.

Back to Christmas: long before we celebrated the birth of the Christ child, we celebrated the winter solstice (which was yesterday). After months of shrinking days and encroaching darkness, the winter solstice also offers hope—hope for the return of the light and warmth that is so essential to human life.

That this was a very important event is evidenced by places like the passage tomb in Newgrange, Ireland. Those long-gone neolithic people built this huge monument with such precision that only once a year—at the winter solstice—do the beams of the rising sun illuminate the entire chamber, flooding it with light and the promise of a new solar cycle. It boggles my mind: how could these “primitive” people so exactly calculate angles and the position of the sun? They must have been great at abstract maths!

In the Nordic tradition, midwinter was celebrated with sacrifice—and a feast. Autumn was often harsh, a sequence of weeks eating cabbage and porridge. But to celebrate midwinter, the pig was slaughtered, and while some of it was sacrificed, a lot was eaten—after all, the gods did not want the trotters… I believe the Swedish smorgasbord tradition (smorgasbord being one of the words us Swedes have gifted to the world at large), tables groaning under the weight of ham and meatballs, ribs and sausage, salmon and herring, bread and cheese, has its roots in that ancient midwinter feasting.

Midwinter was a precarious time: the only surviving edible in the fields was, potentially, kale (and leeks. Maybe). If the harvest had been good, cellars would be full of wheat and oats, onions and dried peas and beans. If the harvest had been bad . . . well, belts would be tightened already in November as worried women started rationing what they had, knowing full well that the really, really bad time was March and April.

Up here in the north, it was during March and April that people died of starvation. The winter stores were depleted, there was as yet nothing edible growing on the fields, and should the winter be longer than normal, not even the nettles would show up in time to save the weak and hungry. As an aside, nettles make the most delicious soup.

But today, March and April are far away. Besides, most of us don’t depend on our own harvests to keep us alive—not in our parts of the world. And yet, among us live those who do not have enough, who are homeless and hungry—a bit like that newborn babe, laid to rest in a straw-filled manger under the watchful eyes of his mother. High above, a new star shone bright, and the soaring voices of angels proclaimed that the Saviour was born, ushering in a new age, an age of hope—and peace.

Hope. Peace. Two things this world of ours needs in spades. Most of us can’t do much about the world—but we can give ourselves and our families some days of celebrations generously laced with both. And then, lovely peeps, we will ALL have to do what we can–however small–to ensure 2025 will be a better year for this lovely, fragile and unique world of ours than 2024. The world needs it—we need it!