As the confetti settles and the calendar flips, a familiar feeling descends upon us. It’s January—a month of stark duality. We find ourselves simultaneously looking over our shoulders at the year gone by and gazing with hopeful anticipation toward the road ahead. This unique blend of reflection and resolution, of endings and beginnings, is no accident. It’s a cultural inheritance, woven into the very fabric of the month’s name, gifted to us by a peculiar, two-faced Roman god: Janus.
While many Roman deities were direct imports or adaptations from the Greek pantheon (think Jupiter as Zeus or Mars as Ares), Janus was uniquely Roman. He held a place of profound importance in their daily and spiritual lives. He was the god of beginnings, gates, transitions, time, doorways, passages, and endings. If you were starting a journey, a business, or even a war, you would invoke Janus first.
His most striking feature, and the key to our story, was his physical form. Janus was depicted with two faces, set back-to-back. One face, often bearded and aged, looked to the past. The other, youthful and clean-shaven, looked to the future. He didn’t just represent transitions; he embodied them. He was the literal and metaphorical guardian of the threshold, seeing both what was and what would be.
His significance was so great that the doors of his main temple in Rome were a public spectacle. In times of peace, the gates of the Ianus Geminus were closed. In times of war, they were flung open, symbolically allowing the god to march out with the Roman armies. To the Romans, Janus wasn’t a minor figure; he was the cosmic doorkeeper who held the keys to change.
The linguistic connection between the god and the month is beautifully direct. The Latin name for the month was Mensis Ianuarius, which translates simply to “the Month of Janus.” The Romans saw this month as the perfect time to honor the god who presided over all beginnings.
As Latin evolved and spread, the name traveled with it.
The letter ‘J’ itself has a fascinating history here. In Classical Latin, the ‘I’ sound could be both a vowel (like in “igloo”) and a consonant (like the ‘y’ in “year”). Ianuarius would have been pronounced something like “Yan-oo-ar-ee-us.” It wasn’t until later in the evolution of European languages that the ‘J’ was developed as a distinct letter to represent the “juh” sound we know today, solidifying the spelling and pronunciation of “January.”
Here’s a historical wrinkle that makes the connection even more perfect. For a long time, January wasn’t the first month of the year. The earliest Roman calendar was a messy, ten-month affair that began in March (Martius, for Mars) and ended in December. The dead of winter, a period of about 60 days, was simply an unnamed, uncounted gap.
According to tradition, around 713 BCE, the second king of Rome, Numa Pompilius, undertook a major calendar reform. He added two months to the end of the year to properly align it with the lunar cycle: Ianuarius and Februarius (named for the purification festival, Februa).
Even then, the new year officially began on March 1st. It wasn’t until 153 BCE that the start of the civil year was moved to January 1st. The reason was practical: newly elected consuls took office on this day, and they needed to be in place to plan military campaigns before the fighting season began in spring. This administrative shift cemented January’s position as the true “doorway” to the new year, making its dedication to Janus all the more fitting.
Every time we participate in New Year’s rituals, we are unknowingly channeling the spirit of Janus. The month is a psychological threshold that forces us to perform the god’s two-faced function:
January is the month where the past and future meet in a powerful, tangible way. It’s a time of transition, a clean slate that still bears the imprint of what came before.
The influence of Janus doesn’t stop with the calendar. His role as a doorkeeper gave us another common English word. The Latin word for “door” or “passageway” was ianua, a term directly related to the god’s name. A doorkeeper in ancient Rome was called an ianitor.
Sound familiar? It should. Over time, ianitor entered English as our modern word janitor. Though the meaning has shifted from a grand “gatekeeper” to a custodian, the linguistic root remains as a testament to the god of doorways.
So, as you move through this month of beginnings, take a moment to appreciate the rich history embedded in its name. January isn’t just a label for the first 31 days of the year; it’s a concept. It’s a reminder, carried through millennia of linguistic change, that every new beginning is built upon the foundation of an ending. It invites us to be like Janus—to honor our past while stepping boldly into our future.
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