Reflections on Shab-e Yalda and Christmas Eve

Longest Nights, Brightest Hopes

The passage of United Nations resolution (A/79/458/Add.3) on December 17, 2024, addressing the human rights situation in Iran, delivers a sobering indictment of systemic violations. The resolution enumerates the stark realities faced by Iranians today: an alarming increase in executions, often for non-serious offenses; disproportionate targeting of ethnic and religious minorities, including Baluchis and Kurds; and the relentless suppression of women through compulsory veiling laws and gender-based violence. The crackdown on freedoms—of speech, assembly, and expression—coupled with the violent repression of protests paints a grim picture of a nation struggling under the weight of tyranny.

This reality stands in stark contrast to the Iran of ancient times, a land that celebrated resilience, hope, and the enduring human spirit through traditions like Shab-e Yalda. On the longest night of the year, Persian families would gather to light candles, share poetry, and feast on symbolic fruits. It was a time to ward off the encroaching darkness and reaffirm the promise of light and renewal.

Shab-e Yalda, rooted in the cycles of nature, offered a profound message of hope. The flickering light of a single candle symbolized defiance against despair, a beacon reminding all that even the longest night would give way to dawn. The crimson seeds of pomegranates promised rebirth, while watermelons preserved from summer’s abundance reflected the continuity of life. In homes across Persia, the verses of Hafez brought solace and reflection, connecting the temporal with the eternal. This tradition was more than a celebration; it was an affirmation of the human capacity to endure and find renewal, even in the bleakest of winters.

This juxtaposition—between the vibrant hope of Shab-e Yalda and the oppressive present captured in the UN resolution—invites reflection. What has been lost in the passage of time, and what might be reclaimed? The endurance and hope symbolized by Yalda offer a stark contrast to the pervasive darkness described in the resolution, yet they also point to a shared human yearning for renewal, justice, and light.

To understand the universal nature of this yearning, we must journey westward to the dawn of the first century, to another time and place gripped by oppression. The Roman Empire, vast and unyielding, stood as the unparalleled superpower of its era. Under the guise of Pax Romana, the empire maintained stability through force and fear, its legions ever-present to quell dissent. In provinces like Judea, the weight of Roman rule was crushing. Heavy taxes drained local economies, public executions displayed imperial cruelty, and a rigid social hierarchy condemned the majority to lives of servitude and despair.

For the people of Judea, their suffering was compounded by their deep religious convictions. As a people bound by a covenant with God, they yearned for deliverance, clinging to the promises of prophets who foretold the coming of a Messiah. This figure, envisioned variously as a warrior-king, a high priest, or a spiritual redeemer, represented the hope of liberation from both political and spiritual oppression. Among the most nuanced interpretations was the prophecy of a suffering servant, described in Isaiah, who would bear the iniquities of humanity and bring about a moral and spiritual transformation.

This longing for a savior mirrored the anticipation of dawn during Shab-e Yalda—a yearning for light to pierce the darkness, for renewal to emerge from desolation. The parallels between these narratives—one rooted in the cycles of nature, the other in the cycles of human history—invite us to reflect on the profound synchronicity of hope as a universal human experience.

And then, in the stillness of a winter night, a child was born in Bethlehem. His birth, unnoticed by the empire, carried the weight of generations’ longing and prophecy. Jesus of Nazareth would grow to embody a message of love, humility, and spiritual renewal that challenged the very foundations of Roman society. His teachings called for a transformation of the human heart—a radical reimagining of justice, compassion, and the value of every individual.

The story of Jesus’ birth is one of light piercing the darkness, of hope emerging in the bleakest of winters. It is a narrative that resonates deeply with the themes of Shab-e Yalda, where the longest night is but a prelude to the returning dawn. Both stories speak to the universal human experience of enduring hardship with the faith that renewal will come.

It is tempting to see in the convergence of these narratives a divine orchestration, a mystical resonance that transcends cultures and centuries. Shab-e Yalda and the birth of Jesus each offer a vision of light overcoming darkness, of hope sustaining humanity through its longest nights. Yet, the power of these stories lies not in their historical intersections but in their shared capacity to inspire. They remind us that even in the face of oppression, whether under the yoke of an empire or within the confines of Ayatollah Khamenei’s brutal regime, the human spirit yearns for renewal and light.

This brings us back to the present, to the chilling realities outlined in the UN resolution. The violations described—from the persecution of minorities to the systemic suppression of freedoms—underscore the darkness that grips modern Iran. In such a time, the question arises: when will the Messiah emerge? When will the light of justice and renewal pierce the oppressive night? This question is not merely rhetorical; it is a call to action, a reminder that hope, like the candles of Yalda, must be kept alive, even when the night feels unending.

As we gather tonight, whether to celebrate Shab-e Yalda, the birth of Jesus Christ, or to light a candle for the advent season, let us reflect on this shared human longing for hope and renewal. In the darkest moments, the promise of dawn remains—a fragile but unyielding beacon that unites us across time, place, and tradition. In the warmth of community and the light of faith, we find the strength to endure and the courage to hope for a brighter future, one where the Messiah—in whatever form—brings light to a world in need, especially to Iran under its oppressive clerical rule.