Full Moon Video # 12 (one day before the full moon but it’s a Christmas song!)
This completes my year-long Full Moon Video series, though more videos and songs are in the works and will be released when completed.
I was raised in the Lutheran church, the liberal branch. My best friend Susan was Catholic. We were in the same Bluebird group, went to the same elementary school. Sometimes I’d go to mass with her, and sometimes she’d come with me and my family to our church. I became fascinated with the incense, the bizarre saints, and the way they took communion, all sipping from the same big fancy cup proffered by a priest instead of the tiny hygienic glass vials we Lutherans drank from, one for each of us. I had communion (grape juice for kids) at the Catholic church before my own church because you didn’t have to be “confirmed” in adolescence to have communion. Mrs. Evans said it was ok. They had real bread that tasted nutty and sweet, not the papery little Lutheran wafers.
And then there was the holy water you dipped your hand into from a carved marble bowl before entering the sanctuary, and the constant genuflecting (crossing yourself). All so weird. But also sort of cool.
And even more strange, kneeling on those little benches you could pull down from the pew in front of you during the mass. Up and down, up and down, throughout the service. All these dignified adults in their Sunday best! I wondered why it was called going to “mass” instead of “church?” This was the 1960s, so long before the internet could tell me. I wondered if I was supposed to be trying to do all this stuff since I wasn’t a Catholic, but I followed along the best I could. Except genuflecting, that was too embarrassing to even try except at home when nobody else but Susan was around to tutor me. Top of head, down to heart, left shoulder, right shoulder. Took a bit of practice to do it rapidly like the Catholics.
In my kid mind, being Catholic went with driving a Cheverolet, and being Lutheran went with driving a Ford. I didn’t really think the difference was a big deal, just a kind of family loyalty to a brand. They said a lot of the same things at Mass that we did, like the Lord’s Prayer and the Apostles Creed. And the Bible of course.
But one Sunday when I went with Susan to Catechism (what the Catholics called Sunday school) I got my first history lesson about protestants and Catholics. The teacher asked us if we could name a “great Christian.” My hand shot up and I confidently answered “Martin Luther.” Did not go over well to mention the guy who renounced the Catholic Church and started his own religion. I was not trying to be cheeky or start a new Reformation, that’s just what I had been taught. Luther was kind of the #1 Great Christian in my Lutheran Sunday School. I didn’t really connect the dots in the story about Martin Luther being against the selling of indulgences with Susan’s church. My mother later explained to me why that wasn’t such a great thing to contribute.
But more than the differences between us and all the exotic rituals, I was fascinated with Mary, the mother of God. Catholics prayed to her as if she was a goddess, using a beautiful piece of jewelry called a rosary. “Hail Mary, full of grace.” We Lutherans didn’t have any jewelry to accessorize our religion, and for us Mary was more of a supporting actress in the story rather than a star in her own right. We only had the triple-male Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. (Very confusing, especially the Holy Ghost. I got him mixed up with “the Ghost of old Broadwater” who my father sometimes invoked with a deep wavery voice to tease and fake-scare us.) I thought Mary was vastly more interesting and relatable than the “God in three persons.”
And of course, she was female, like me.
There was a gift shop connected with Susan’s church, and one year I bought a delicate white porcelain statue of Mary. Incredibly (because I have broken or lost so much stuff in my many moves) I still have her over half a century later. At some point my husband painted Mary gold to match our gold-painted bathroom. She sits on a high alter-like shelf with a Buddha, a goddess candle, a cool little chalice, a stone turtle, and a tiny gold incense burner we got as a souvenir when we walked the Camino de Santiago with my mother a few years back. For obvious reasons, there’s also a Hindu goddess named Saraswati who plays a stringed instrument.
When I was around twelve, I realized that institutionalized religion was not for me. I find my spirituality in the cycles and seasons of nature. The holy for me is outside in the trees and rivers and mountains, in the stars and the moon and the sun. For me, the Winter Solstice is the most sacred and transformational time of year. After a long dark time, we find a miracle in the dead of winter when we feel low, when things look most bleak. The need to light a candle and pray to get through the winter is both real and metaphorical. The sun’s dance lengthens after this day, and we feel the promise of spring and new growth again. Every year the longest night brings an opportunity for deeper reflection, for accepting what is, for being grateful for the precious gifts of love and life. I love this time of year so much.
But Christianity is part of my upbringing and my culture, and it is full of resonant, beautiful truths and stories I still cherish. I love and respect my Christian family members and friends. I love the Christmas story too, a religious frame of the same story of the sun’s return: the star in the East, the holy child being born in the dead of winter, a miracle. Joy. Every year we’d put together the creche with the Baby Jesus, the Shepherds, the three Wise Men, and the sheep, one of them propped against the manger because her leg was broken. When I was eight, I even got to play Mary in the Christmas play. It was only a blue towel I wore on my head, but I was honored to represent her.
In 1994 when living in San Diego, I was asked to contribute to a Christmas album. I wanted to put my life-long fascination with Mary into song. “I Felt the Wings” resulted, a four-part a cappella song that is both a Christmas song and a Winter Solstice song.
The Winter Solstice is the day I personally celebrate, and I needed the song to reflect the deepening and new insights and creativity that happens for me every year at this time. But because this song was for a Christmas album, I used the powerful story of the Annunciation, when Mary meets the Angel who tells her she will bear a very special child, the son of God.
“And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favor with God.”
For me, it is not the literal truth of this meeting that is most important, but the spiritual truth of saying “yes” to life, even when we are very afraid, even when things seem impossibly dark, completely hopeless. Mary must accept her destiny and release her fear. That “yes” is the essence of creativity, of fertility, whether in the realm of ideas, art, or new beings.
I used a cassette 4-track to create the four parts, and we recorded three of the parts live with my friends Mary Dolan and Joy Eden Harrison out in a forest service cabin in Pine Valley, CA. I added the fourth (highest) vocal after the live session. Remastered in 2023 by Brian Castillo.
This year I am sharing this post with a new video on Christmas rather than the Solstice. The video features some of the many beautiful paintings of the Annunciation, the moment when Mary meets the Angel.
We have so many of these paintings today because the Catholic church or other wealthy medieval and Renaissance Catholics commissioned them. And because, like me, many artists over the centuries have been inspired by Mary. I’m grateful for their lasting beauty, telling a story that is both Christian and universal.
Merry Christmas and Happy Solstice to all. Within the darkest night, may you find hope, joy, and love.
I Felt the Wings
I felt the wings
Of the angel flying in the empty air
Who are you now?
Is the wind upon my face of life or death?
Be not afraid
For I bring you tidings of great joy
The darkest night
Like a fearsome beast will hold you in its mouth
Be not afraid
For the light within you
Shall be born again
I am descending
I am descending
Angel embrace me
Angel take over me
I truly enjoyed the song and video. Your words were beautiful . I’m such a fan of your writing. Have you considered writing a book or a collection of stories? Merry Christmas, long time friend ! Debbie… Sending Love !
The blessing last evening to be foolish and believe that the light can overcome the dark seems so right. I guess i am not used to being told to be both angry and foolish, But it is a good way to begin this new year.