Dec 05 2014
Krampus, St. Nicholas, The Gift Bearers

Light & Darkness: Eve of St. Nicholas

Klausjagen-Küssnacht2011

I have long suspected that Americans just don’t have as much fun as folks in other countries. It’s that Puritan Work Ethic. We work and work and work and this is what the Puritans wanted us to do and we’re still doing it. The Puritans worked even on Christmas; they hated the idea of Christmas so much, they actually banned it. But that’s a story for another time. Or maybe not. We’ll let the Puritans be: both them and their austere ways.

Amongst more jovial people, there is a lot more celebration, and tonight is a wonderful example of that, wonderful as in wonder-full, full of wonder. It’s the Eve of St. Nicholas, a night belonging to mystery, for St. Nicholas is the first of the traditional wintertime gift bearers. He is the older cousin to the American Santa Claus. St. Nicholas the gift bearer comes from an historical person: St. Nicholas, Bishop of Myra in the fourth century, who became known far and wide for his acts of generosity… not the least of which was his hiding bags of coins in the shoes of poor girls who were without dowries. The legend grew from there and now St. Nicholas is sacred to countries throughout Europe.

Tonight’s gift bearer is not all happy and light, though; he has a dark side, as we all do. Actually, a dark companion. Perhaps this comes out of the humanity St. Nicholas is rooted in. His dark companion goes by many names depending on the country, but he is most commonly known as Black Peter or as Krampus, a sort of half human, half goat figure whose job it is to punish badly behaved children.

And while Santa Claus tries his best to operate under secrecy and dark of night, St. Nicholas and Krampus are often found parading through cities and villages on this night. One of the parades for St. Nicholas’ Eve include the Klausjagen parade, or “Nicholas chase,” pictured above. It’s part of an annual festival in Küssnacht, Switzerland, this eve of St. Nicholas’ Day. Many marchers in the parade will be wearing Iffelen––enormous, ornate hats that are made of paper and wood, meant to evoke the mitre hat of a bishop but also the stained glass windows of churches. They are lit from within by candles, and are upwards of seven feet tall.

Now that’s a sight to see. Surely there is good ale to be had, too, and perhaps some delicious cookies just for St. Nicholas’ Day. There’s plenty of time for work. A little celebration will probably do you good, no matter what those stern Puritanical ancestors thought. Anyway, St. Nicholas probably thinks so, and I bet even Krampus does, too. Krampus knows it’s all about balance.

 

Image: A photograph of the Klausjagen parade, December 5, 2011, by Matthias Zepper (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.

 

Dec 02 2014
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Book of Days Calendar

Your December Book of Days

Dec14Tree

And now it is December, last of the Ember Months. In the Northern Hemisphere it is the month of the Winter Solstice, Midwinter by traditional reckoning of time. At some point during the course of this season, I suspect I will find myself gathered into a dark church and if all goes well, one of the songs we will sing together, as a congregation, will be “In the Bleak Midwinter.” I love this song. Especially the first verse:

In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter
Long ago.

The words are based on a poem by Christina Rosetti and they are perfect as they are. And while all this cold hardness may be happening outside, inside it’s a different story. These are the days of our greatest annual celebrations. The harvest is in, the bounty is evident. The night is long and dark but the fire is warm and we are gathered together in that warmth of home. The celebrations we keep are ancient ones that go back farther than anyone can remember, but we keep them well, remembering those who kept them before us and hoping those who follow will take them up, as well, and pass them along to those who follow them. Dickens’ Ghosts of Christmases Past, Present and Future visit each of us in their way.

The monthly Convivio Book of Days calendar is a printable PDF document, and if you do choose to print it and pin it to your bulletin board, this month you get to spend time with some good folks I know. The cover stars on your December Book of Days calendar are my mom, Millie (she makes Millie’s Potholders in our catalog) and my cousin Larry, standing at Aunt Mary’s and Uncle Phil’s Christmas tree, 1952. That would have been in Brooklyn, New York, and it’s a safe bet that there was good food on the table that night, things we make only once a year, at Christmastime. The same good things we make now; the same good things those who came before were making, too. This is one of the best things about this time of year: the bleak midwinter brings out the best in us.

 

Nov 30 2014
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Advent

Go Amazed into the Maze

Maze

Thanksgiving has passed and for those of us who take things slowly, tonight marks the First Sunday of Advent, a time of preparation, and we begin our procession toward the joy of Christmas. Without Advent, Christmas very easily becomes that thing that people do not like: “A big commercial racket,” as Lucy Van Pelt says each year in A Charlie Brown Christmas. It very easily becomes too sweet, a bit sickening, and people tire of it quickly. This is the problem with Christmas.

Christmas is about joy, but it is Advent that sets the stage for that joy. It eases us into the celebration. And it does so brilliantly, by acknowledging that these are dark times, times that require a boost like Christmas, and the darkness is as much literal as it is figurative, for the nights now are growing longer and longer in the Northern Hemisphere, and they will continue to do so all the way to the Winter Solstice, which this year is on the 21st of December. Advent takes that darkness, becomes a part of it and casts light upon it. Tonight, this First Sunday of Advent, we will light one purple candle in our circle of four candles. On the Second Sunday of Advent, December 7, we light that same candle and another purple candle. The following week, the Third Sunday of Advent, we light two purples and one rose candle. And on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, the night of the solstice, just before Christmas, all four candles in the ring are illuminated. As the darkness of night increases, so does the light issuing from our ring of candles.

When I was a boy, we’d light the Advent ring, often late at night, with the whole family gathered, but quickly folks would go their own ways. There is always much to do, after all. But Grandma and I would sit there longer each Sunday, in the darkness with the candles glowing, maybe with a Christmas album playing on the record player until it reached the end of the record, be it Side A or Side B, and at the end, the arm of the phonograph would lift the needle and the music would stop and that’s usually when we’d get up and blow out the candles. A quiet ritual, but how special. And I still remember that clearly, clear as that candle glow.

Tonight as I write this for you, the music is coming from the CD player (even that is outdated now, isn’t it?) and it is a recording called Hymnody of Earth by Malcolm Dalglish. Choir, hammered dulcimer, frame drum, songs inspired by the poetry of Wendell Berry. Nothing particularly “adventy” about these songs, although there is one song for the solstice and its longest night. There is a song, though, called “Thrush Song.” It ends with, “I go amazed / Into the maze of a design / That mind can follow but not know, / Apparent, plain, and yet unknown, / The outline lost in earth and sky.”

Whether your approach to Advent is a religious one, awaiting the birth of the child, or a secular one, awaiting the return of light, I think the words of Mr. Berry are fitting. This is the beauty, the value, of Advent. We go amazed into the maze, we go together, and out of the darkness comes something really special.

 

Image: A maze of lights in the darkness, last Christmas, out the front door. Can you discern the kitty ears? Haden was looking out the window when I took that photo.

 

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