If we could ask one of the old world pagans who he revered as his greatest gods,
He would be sure to name among them the sun god,
Calling him Apollo if he were a Greek,
If an Egyptian,
Horus or Osiris,
If of Norway,
Saul,
If of Peru,
Or Chica.
But the sun is the center of the physical universe,
So all primitive people made it the hub about which their religion revolved,
Nearly always believing it a living person who they could say prayers and offer sacrifices,
Who directed their lives and destinies,
And could even snatch men from earthly existence to twelve for a time with him,
As he throws the water from lakes and seas.
In believing this they followed an instinct of all early people,
A desire to make persons of the great powers of nature,
Such as the world of growing things,
Mountains and water,
The sun,
Moon and stars,
And a wish for these gods they had made to take an interest in and be part of their daily life.
The next step was making stories about them,
To account for what was seen,
So arose myths and legends.
The sun has always marked out work time and rest,
Divided the year into winter,
Idleness,
Seed time,
Growth,
And harvest.
It has always been responsible for all the beauty and goodness of the earth.
It is itself splendid to look upon.
It goes away and stays longer and longer,
Leaving the land in cold and gloom.
It returns bringing the long fair days,
Resurrection of spring.
A Japanese legend tells how the hidden sun was lured out by an image made of a copper plate with saplings radiating from it like sunbeams,
And a fire kindled,
Dancing and prayers,
And round the earth in North America the Cherokee believed they brought the sun back upon its northward path by the same means of rousing its curiosity,
So that it would come out to see its counterpart and find out what was going on.
All the more important church festivals are survivals of old rites to the sun.
Yuletide,
The pagan Christmas,
Celebrated the sun's turning north,
And the old Midsummer holiday is still kept in Ireland,
And on the continent as St.
John's Day,
By the lighting of bonfires and a dance about them from east to west as the sun appears to moo.
The pagan Halloween at the end of summer was a time of grief for the decline of the sun's glory,
As well as a harvest festival of thanksgiving to him for having ripened the grain and fruit.
As we formerly had husking bees,
When the ears had been garnered,
And now keep our own thanksgiving by eating of our winter store in praise of God,
Who gives us our increase.
Pomona,
The Roman goddess of fruit,
Lends us the harvest element of Halloween,
The Celtic day of the summer's end,
Was a time when spirits,
Mostly evil,
Were abroad.
The gods who Christ had throned joined the ill-omened throng,
The church festivals of all saints and all souls,
Coming at the same time of year,
The first of November,
Contributed the idea of the return of the dead,
And the Teutonic May Eve assemblage of witches brought its axe,
And their tended beast helped celebrate the night of October 31st.