My Annual Über-Celtic Moment

Today the Church celebrates the feast of Saint Patrick (387-493), the patron saint of Ireland. It is on the Emerald Isle that today is both a national and religious holiday. At one time, the bars would close and the churches would be full out of obligation. Only in recent years has the feast seen a more rebellious spirit, complete with parades and green beer (not to mention green hair). Naturally (if ironically), they have the Americans to thank for this.

And, since the feast usually takes place during Lent, the announcement above shows that some of us can indulge a wee bit more than others.

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Growing up in a postwar Catholic environment, those of us who attended the parish schools in the United States, were taught that there were two kinds of people; those who were Irish, and those who wish they were. My own family appeared to fall into neither category. There were the Irish nuns who favored the Irish kids, including the unforgettable Sister Mary Mel (yes, her real name), who wasn't above calling some miscreant a "jackass." But at least she was colorful. The rest of all things that were allegedly Irish were just so much blarney. I came to dismiss the whole notion of St Paddy's Day -- indeed, the whole notion of being Irish -- as a license for certain people to be more arrogant and obnoxious than they already were.

"Hail glorious Saint Patrick dear saint of our isle
On us thy poor children look down with a smile —"
But I'm not singing hymns and I'm not saying prayers
No, I'm gritting my teeth as I walk down the stairs
And into the street with these louts fiercely drinking
And screeching and lurching, and here's what I'm thinking —
They're using a stereotype, a narrow example,
A fraction, not even a marketing sample
To imitate Ireland, from which they don't come!
So unless that's just stupid, unless it's plain dumb,
All these kids from New Jersey and the five boroughs
And hundreds of cities, all drowning their sorrows,
With bottles and glasses and heads getting broken
(Believe me, just ask the mayor of Hoboken)
All that mindlessness, shouting and getting plain stocious —
That isn't Irish, that's simply atrocious.
I've another word too for it, this one's more stinging
I call it "racism." See, just 'cause you're singing
Some drunken old ballad on Saint Patrick's Day
Does that make you Irish? Oh, no — no way.
Nor does a tee-shirt that asks you to kiss them —
If they never come back I surely won't miss them
Or their beer cans and badges and wild maudlin bawling
And hammered and out of it, bodies all sprawling.

They're not of Joyce or of Yeats, Wilde, or Shaw.
How many Nobel Laureates does Dublin have? Four!
Think of this as you wince through Saint Patrick's guano —
Not every Italian is Tony Soprano.

Eventually I went to college, where I discovered Irish music. I mean the real thing, not the over-romanticized "Christmas-in-Killarney-on-St-Patrick's-in-June" that passed itself off as genuine the whole time. I simply couldn't get enough of it. I used to watch the Saint Patrick's Day parade in Cincinnati, which included the carrying of the statue of the Saint, which the local chapter of the Ancient Order of Hibernians would "steal" in the middle of night, from what was once the German parish in Mount Adams. (Long story.) There was also the local Irish dance school, with boys and girls who never imagined that, three decades later, they could do it for fame and fortune in shows like "Riverdance."

Who knew?

By the end of the 1970s I spent Sunday evenings working at a coffeehouse, and I helped broker a deal that brought Clannad to Cincinnati on their first American tour. I even gave harpist/vocalist Máire Brennan (pronounced MOY-uh) a ride back to where she was staying. Otherwise shy and aloof, I got her to laugh at my jokes. That seemed to matter at the time.

I saw Máire again in 1987, in a music video on VH1, for a song entitled "Something to Believe In." She was also the haunting voice in the Volkswagen commercials. Naturally she's world-famous now, and probably wouldn't return my calls, although she did write me a long and possibly heartfelt note when she autographed my copy of their album. I say "possibly" because it was in Gaelic, so I'll never know for sure, especially since it was among my collection that was stolen from my apartment in Georgetown back in 1994. (Bob, if you're reading this, tell your rich white trash buddies that I'd really like to have it back. And before you get your boxers in a bunch, the neighbors all thought YOU did it!) Máire also came out with a book in 2001 entitled "The Other Side of the Rainbow." She continues to tour and so on, but I knew her when.

(Sigh ...) Anyway, back to the '70s. While the whole world (including my now-beloved Celia on the other side of it) was going bananas over disco, the feast became an annual ritual, of spending most of the accompanying weekend hanging out at Hap's Irish Pub in the Hyde Park section of Cincinnati, or at Arnold's Bar and Grill downtown. Even when I moved to Washington in 1980, I learned Irish dancing (if not quite what appears in the above video), Irish folk tales, and the like. But the upscale bars in the Nation's capital weren't as quaint as the neighborhood pubs in my old hometown. I was under no illusions that this heritage was one that I could claim for my own.

In 1982, that claim became even more elusive. I married a girl whose grandparents came over from Slovakia, and who grew up hearing Slovak around the house. This pretty much killed any enthusiasm for all things Irish around our house.

You see, I learned a piece of American Catholic history that the mostly Irish-American church historians didn't exactly wear on their sleeves. By the time eastern Europeans came to America in the late 19th and early 20th century, the Irish were already the big fish in the little blue-collar pond, and didn't mind letting the "Hunkies" in the coal towns and factory neighborhoods know it. Going up the food chain, it got worse. Catholics of Eastern Rites -- with customs and liturgy similar to the Orthodox, but in communion with Rome -- had married priests. The mostly-Irish bishops assumed they were either schismatics, or worse. Their wives couldn't be treated in Catholic hospitals, and their children were barred from Catholic schools. Confused as these bishops were, they concluded that the faithful would be even more confused by the presence of married Catholic priests. Thus, by the 1920s, The (Irish-)American bishops pressured Rome to bar the (legitimately) married priests from coming to America, let alone ministering.

It has been shown that most of the growth of Eastern Orthodoxy in North America can be attributed to the damned ignorance of the (Irish-)American bishops of the time. (Hey, guys, nice work!)

This latency towards all things Irish got a reprieve when the marriage tanked in 1990. Then one night -- it was about 1998, as I remember -- I was interviewed for a writing job by a priest who edited a major Catholic periodical. A native of Dublin, he reminded me of what really mattered:

“Patrick was not Irish, and on his Feast Day, we do not celebrate being Irish; we celebrate being Catholic.”

I knew that the Alexanders came from a small town near Verdun, in the Lorraine province of northeastern France. But in recent years we learned that, before the 18th century, the Alexandre line was expatriated from Scotland, a result of the Rebellion when England overtook them. I was also to learn that the man known by the Roman name of Maganus Sucatus (Maewyn Succat in Gaelic) was of a Roman family, born in Kilpatrick, near Dumbarton, in that part of Great Britain that is now Scotland. Sooooo ... if not being Irish were not enough, Patricius (in modern English, Patrick) -- as he was known in later years, being of the Roman "patrician" class, and a "patriarch" to his spiritual charges -- might just as easily be claimed by the Scots as one of their own.
For years, one highlight of the day would be the Annual Irish Poetry Reading. That was when I'd call my folks in Ohio on this day every year, and with their speakerphone on, recite the following piece by Benjamin Hapgood Burt in a very bad Irish brogue:

One evening in October, when I was one-third sober,
    An' taking home a "load" with manly pride;
My poor feet began to stutter, so I lay down in the gutter,
    And a pig came up an' lay down by my side;
Then we sang "It's all fair weather when good fellows get together,"
    Till a lady passing by was heard to say:
"You can tell a man who 'boozes' by the company he chooses"
    And the pig got up and slowly walked away.

Since then, both have entered into eternity, most likely with better things to do.

Today, those who are Irish, who wish they were, or who don't give a rat's arse either way, will dine on Irish lamb stew. When I can ever find it amidst my stuff, I use this occasion to wear a button with the words of William Butler Yeats: “I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree.” Usually, I listen to Celtic music the entire day, and at an opportune time and place, I dine on corned beef and cabbage. This is admittedly an American innovation for the Irish, as poor immigrants from the "auld sod" found corned beef (a substitute used by their Jewish neighbors in place of bacon) to be much cheaper than lamb.

Beginning this year, I got lucky, because right down the street from me, they opened an Irish pub. It seems that three Thai restaurant within a half mile of each other was one too many, and the one closest to me was replaced with the watering hole of my dreams. The Celtic House is situated on the corner of Columbia Pike and South Barton Street, right at the end of the latter street, which would be my street, a mere ten-minute walk away. Sometime today I'm making a point of being there, as if my fond memories of discovering real Irish culture have come full circle. True, it's not as small and crowded as Hap's, not nearly as weather-beaten as Arnold's, and they won't be selling raffle tickets for NORAID under the table, but I can ignore that long enough to enjoy a lamb stew.

I'll also probably watch Mel Gibson in Braveheart later tonight, while enjoying a Guiness float (which is like a root beer float, only ... well, you know). Who cares if William Wallace was Scottish? No one cares if Patrick isn't Irish, do they? After all, "The Apostle of Ireland" is properly claimed by Catholics everywhere, whether a bunch of micks care to admit it or not.

“Agus fagaimid siud mar ata se.”

Random Thoughts After The Carnival

It is clear in the work of the German romanticist painter Carl Spitzweg (1808–85) entitled Ash Wednesday, that the time of Carnival has come to an end. That's right, dear minions, the party is over. And, in the words of Smokey Robinson: "Just like Pagliacci did, I try to keep my sadness hid ..."

Wait, that's a different clown. I digress.

Today, the Western church begins the season of Lent, known in Latin as Quadragesima ("forty days"). And yes, if you don't count the Sundays, the days starting with this day, going on six and a half weeks through Holy Saturday, it really does last for forty days, as is demonstrated by the convenient chart below (which you can tell was made in Europe because the week starts with Monday, which we all know is wrong ... but, that's another story).

Lent is one of the two major penitential seasons of the Church Year in the West, the other being Advent (which, while not totally penitential, is still kinda sorta penitential). The rules for the Dioceses of the United States of America are, that every person fourteen years or older must abstain from meat (and items made with meat) on Ash Wednesday, Good Friday, and all the Fridays of Lent.

Of course, they really should abstain from meat on Fridays year round, or devise "an alternate form of penance." (Yeah, like that's gonna happen.)

In addition, every person between the age of eighteen and fifty-nine must fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. That means having only one full meal on those days, with each of the other two meals being a "light collation" (or in Yiddish, a "nosh"), which together do not add up to the full meal.

Oh, and no in-between meal snacks either. This presumes, of course, that there is a discernible end to the main meal and the beginning of the light collation. Personally, I never understood how that works. It's like someone rings a bell that says: "Okay, kids, the meal is over, the no-eating-between-meals begins!"

Duh!

People go to church on this day, even though it's not a holyday of obligation, if for no other reason, to be marked with ashes on their foreheads. The priest or deacon will say these (or similar?) words:

Memento, homo, quia pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris.

(Remember, man, that thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return.)

Of course, not all those you see on the streets so marked are Catholic. The practice has long been popular with Anglicans and Lutherans, and has also become common among "Methodists, Moravians, Nazarenes, Independent Catholics, as well as by many from the Reformed faith."

Thank you, Wikipedia.

Walk the streets of your city or town, and people (like Bert Beier of Fox News) make no attempt to hide the mark of the season. Once I went to Saint John's Episcopal Church, located just north of the White House in DC (hence its being known as "The Church of the Presidents"), only because it was a lot closer to the office. Of course, for a genuinely practicing Catholic, that isn't quite the same.

Maybe what nobody knows won't hurt them, don't you think?

Or don't you?
 

Candlemas Day (or, Why Punxatawney Phil is a Catholic)

“When the days were completed for their purification according to the law of Moses, Mary and Joseph took Jesus up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, just as it is written in the law of the Lord, Every male that opens the womb shall be consecrated to the Lord, and to offer the sacrifice of a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons, in accordance with the dictate in the law of the Lord.” (Luke 2:22-24)

Today, both the Eastern and Western churches observe the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary (known as "Candlemas" in the West), and traditionally cited as the fortieth day of Christmas. (Yes, I counted them the other day, and with Christmas itself as Day 1, this is Day 40.) In the Catholic tradition, the Christmas Cycle officially ends with this day, and preparation for Lent can begin, which includes the "Carnival" season in much of South America. But today, and throughout the world, the faithful will process in and around their churches bearing lighted candles, which are blessed for the coming year.

The origin of this feast is described in detail, in this excerpt from the classic work of Dom Prosper Guéranger, OSB, entitled The Liturgical Year.

The mystery of today's ceremony has frequently been explained by liturgists, dating from the 7th century. According to Ivo of Chartres, the wax, which is formed from the juice of flowers by the bee, always considered as the emblem of virginity, signifies the virginal flesh of the Divine Infant, who diminished not, either by His conception or His birth, the spotless purity of His Blessed Mother. The same holy bishop would have us see, in the flame of our Candle, a symbol of Jesus who came to enlighten our darkness. St Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, speaking on the same mystery, bids us consider three things in the blessed Candle: the wax, the wick, and the flame. The wax, he says, which is the production of the virginal bee, is the Flesh of our Lord; the wick, which is within, is His Soul; the flame, which burns on top, is His divinity.

This year's formality is provided courtesy of the NBC affiliate in Cleveland, Ohio.

Six more weeks of winter. Oh joy. (sigh!)

In Catholic Europe, especially in Germany where the practice originated, this feat of prediction was ascribed to German badgers. But since badgers are not found in the eastern United States, German immigrants to this country were obliged to depend for meteorological guidance on a species of marmot called by the Indians 'weejak' or woodchuck, also known as ... the groundhog.

Finally, we end with the appropriate carol. Yes, there is a carol for ending the "forty days of Christmas." The lyrics are by Robert Herrick (1591-1674), employing a Basque melody adapted by Edgar Pittman (1865-1943). This recording is courtesy of John Roberts and Tony Barrand, two of the foursome known as "Nowell Sing We Clear."

"We tend to think of Christmas decorations around the house being a fairly modern invention, like the Christmas tree brought to the UK by Prince Albert, but in earlier times houses were decorated for many months of the year with sprays of leaves and branches, and those decorations changed through the seasons, following the church's year. This lovely seasonal carol was written to celebrate Candlemas Eve by the great 17th Century poet and priest Robert Herrick ... and is taken from his book Ceremonies for Candlemas Eve published in 1648 while England was under the rule of Oliver Cromwell."

And with that, on to Carnival!

"Viva Pit Senyor!" - The Feast of Santo Niño

Our exploration of the continued remembrance of Christmastide as a forty-day feast continues, in ways that continue to surprise many of us.

Most practicing Catholics in North America (we can only hope) are familiar with the image of the "Infant of Prague." While the devotion to the Child Jesus originated in Spain in the 16th century, it soon made its way to the Czech region of Bohemia, the historic capital city of which is Prague, hence the popular reference. But in much of the Spanish world, including the Philippines, he is known as "Santo Niño" and the feast commemorating the Christ Child (as he is referred to from infancy to the age of twelve) is celebrated on the third Sunday of January.

Rehearsal in Qatar, 2013.

All throughout South America and other parts of the Hispanic world, celebrations that are akin to our own Mardi Gras ("Fat Tuesday," the day before Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent) take place. Among the greatest are the various celebrations of Santo Niño throughout the Philippihes, not only in the capital city of Manila, but especially in Cebu, the major city of the central region of Visayas, and the epicenter of the national celebration.

Sinulog in Singapore 2017 Rehearsals, directed by Edynne Baclay.

In 1521, Ferdinand Magellan came to Cebú and gave the image as a present to Humamay, chief consort of the local monarch, Raja Humabon, when she, together with her husband and a number of his subjects, were baptized into the Catholic faith. Tradition holds that Humamay -- who received the Christian name Juana after Joan of Castile -- danced for joy upon receiving the Santo Niño, providing a legendary origin for the fervent religious dancing during the Sinulog held in honor of the Christ Child. (from Wikipedia)

Sinulog Dance 2012 by Tribu Sugbu Dancers, Rockville MD, 2012.

While remembered primarily as a religious holiday, the celebration, or Sinulog, is known for its street festivals, as the young woman who is crowned queen of the festival leads the parade, dancing and carrying the image of the Christ Child in honor of him. The name "sinulog" comes from the Cebuano (Visayan) word "sulog," which translates roughly as "water current movement," a reference to the backward/forward movement of the Sinulog dance in which festival goers participate. The dance itself, performed as a group, is relatively simple, but various cities and dance troupes will invariably cultivate elaborately choreographed versions of the same. As they do, they sing the popular folk song "Viva Pit Senyor" which translates as "Long Live the Lord" (or more popularly as "Long Live the Christ Child"). The dancers will usually carry images of the Holy Child, holding them over their heads as they move together, praising the young Christ Jesus in song.

Highlights of Sinulog 2022 in Cebu, Philippines.

Jesus teach me how to pray
Suffer not my thought to stray
Send destruction far away
Sweet Holy Child

Let me not be rude or wild
Make me humble meek and mild
Pure as angels undefiled
Sweet Holy Child

When I work or when I pray
Be thou with me through the day
Teach me what to do and say
Sweet Holy Child

Make me love thy mother's blest
Safe beneath they care to rest
As a bird within its nest
Sweet Holy Child.

The climax of the event takes place at the Pilgrim Center of the Basilica Minore del Santo Niño de Cebu, as in these two clips from 2020 (one from the cheap seats, the other near the sanctuary). Just when you thought Catholics didn't know how to party, you learn that they do in the "Land of the Morning."

More information about the main event in Cebu can be found at the official website.

It should be obvious by now, that our response to the "Christmas-Season-Lasts-Forty-Days" tirade continues.
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Plowing Through Monday

Today is the traditional start of the agricultural year in England, and so is known as Plough Monday, or, the day after Plough Sunday (you remember from yesterday, right?) which is the Sunday following the traditional observance of Epiphany on the sixth of January. This was the Monday when everyone would end the Christmas revelry and get back to work.

In his 1777 book Observations on Popular Antiquities, the English antiquarian and clergyman John Brand (1744–1806) gives an account of the formalities:

The FOOL PLOUGH goes about: a pageant consisting of a number of sword dancers dragging a plough, with music; one, sometimes two, in very strange attire; the Bessy, in the grotesque habit of an old woman, and the Fool, almost covered with skins, a hairy cap on, and the tail of some animal hanging from his back. The office of one of these characters, in which he is very assiduous, is to go about rattling a box amongst the spectators of the dance, in which he receives their little donations.

Well, okay, maybe not directly ending and getting back to work. Personally, I'd rather be molly dancing.

What is that, you ask?

VIDEO: A 2016 performance of "Black Sheet" by the Ouse Washes Molly Dancers. Following a bit of narrative, the dancing actually starts at 2:07.

“Molly dancing” traditionally only appeared during the depths of winter and is regarded by many people as the East Anglian form of Morris dancing. It is characterized by blackened faces, heavy boots (usually hobnailed) and the presence of a "Lord" and a "Lady", two of the men specially attired respectively as a gentleman and his consort, who lead the dances. Blackening faces was a form of disguise since the dancers could not afford to be recognized. (No, not for that other reason. Remain calm.) Some of those people from whom they had demanded money with menaces would have been their employers. Molly dancing is by nature robust and, some would say, aggressive. These qualities are emphasized by the sound of the hobnailed boots worn by the dancers, which were the normal form of footwear for farm workers in the East of England right up until the second half of the twentieth century. (Information courtesy of Alex Sanders.)

On a promising note, and according to the Olde Farmer's Almanac: “In the evening, each farmer provided a Plough Monday supper for his workers, with plentiful beef and ale for all.”

They could do worse, as our response to the "Christmas-Season-Lasts-Forty-Days" tirade continues.

Plowing Through Sunday

The forty days associated with Christmas and Epiphany continue. The coming of the Savior in the course of the liturgical year is further made manifest. So too is the relationship between the sacred and the secular.

The Sunday after Epiphany, that which falls between the 7th and the 13th of January, is commemorated in England as Plough Sunday, when the beginning of the agricultural year is celebrated. Farmers will arrive at the parish church in their tractors, which are blessed along with the seeds for planting, as found in the official worship book of the Church of England. The day is also remembered by Morris dancing after church services, where a homily for the occasion is often proclaimed.

And so, our response to the "Christmas-Season-Lasts-Forty-Days" tirade continues.

Christus Mansionem Benedicat!

VIDEO: A 1995 recording of "March of the Kings" ("Marche Des Rois") by Nowell Sing We Clear (Tony Barrand, Fred Breunig, Andy Davis and John Roberts) on Golden Hind Records.

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At the Mass for the Day, the faithful are given chalk that has been blessed by the priest, as well as special holy water known as "Epiphany water." The blessing for it, which takes place only for this occasion, is to be found in the traditional Rituale Romanum, and includes a prayer of exorcism. The blessed chalk and the holy water are then taken home, to be used that evening.

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The Blessing of the Entrance to the House (“Chalking the Door”)

The one who is the Officiant begins with the Sign of the Cross, as the others respond ...

Pax + huic dómui.
(Peace + be unto this house.)

Et ómnibus habitántibus in ea.
(And to all who dwell therein.)

...and then continue with Psalm 71(72) "Deus, judicium":

Give the King your justice, O God,
and your righteousness to the King's son;

That he may rule your people righteously
and the poor with justice.

That the mountains may bring prosperity to the people,
and the little hills bring righteousness.

He shall defend the needy among the people;
he shall rescue the poor and crush the oppressor.

He shall live as long as the sun and moon endure,
from one generation to another.

He shall come down like rain upon the mown field,
like showers that water the earth.

In his time shall the righteous flourish;
there shall be abundance of peace
till the moon shall be no more.

He shall rule from sea to sea,
and from the River to the ends of the earth.

His foes shall bow down before him,
and his enemies lick the dust.

The kings of Tarshish and of the isles shall pay tribute,
and the kings of Arabia and Saba offer gifts.

All kings shall bow down before him,
and all the nations do him service.

For he shall deliver the poor who cries out in distress,
and the oppressed who has no helper.

He shall have pity on the lowly and poor;
he shall preserve the lives of the needy.

He shall redeem their lives from oppression and violence,
and dear shall their blood be in his sight.

Long may he live!
and may there be given to him gold from Arabia;

May prayer be made for him always,
and may they bless him all the day long.

May there be abundance of grain on the earth,
growing thick even on the hilltops;

May its fruit flourish like Lebanon,
and its grain like grass upon the earth.

May his Name remain for ever
and be established as long as the sun endures;

May all the nations bless themselves in him
and call him blessed.

Blessed be the Lord GOD, the God of Israel,
who alone does wondrous deeds!

And blessed be his glorious Name forever!
and may all the earth be filled with his glory.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son,
and to the Holy Spirit,

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end. Amen.

Then the Officiant says the following prayer:

Domine, exaudi orationem meam.
(O Lord, hear my prayer.)

Et clamor meus ad te veniat.
(And let my cry come unto you.)

Oremus ...
(Let us pray ...)

Lord God of Heaven and Earth, who hast revealed thine only-begotten Son to every nation by the guidance of a star: Bless this house and all who inhabit it. Fill them with the light of Christ, that their love for others may truly reflect thy love. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Officiant or another takes a piece of blessed chalk and, stepping up on a chair or ladder if necessary, writes over the entrance to the house.

“Christus ...” (“May Christ ...”)

          C

“Mansionem ...” (“this dwelling ...”)

          C      M

“Benedicat.” (“... bless.”)

          C      M      B

“In the coming year ...”

20      C      M      B

“... and in the years to come.”

20      C      M      B      23

“In the name of the Father ...”

20  +  C      M      B      23

“and of the Son ...”

20  +  C  +  M      B      23

“... and of the Holy Spirit.”

20  +  C  +  M  +  B      23

Everyone responds: “Amen.”

20  +  C  +  M  +  B  +  23

Benedicamus Domino!
(Let us bless the Lord!)

Deo gratias!
(Thanks be to God!)

The doorway is sprinkled with Holy Water blessed for the Epiphany. The inscription is to be removed on the Feast of Pentecost.

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For those who require "the short form," there is this one from the Church of Saint Mary in Clifton Heights, New York. On those nights when the weather is particularly inclement, one can simply read from the Gospel of John while inscribing over the door ...

In the beginning was the Word, (inscribe 2)

and the Word was with God, (inscribe 0)

and the Word was God. (inscribe +)

He was in the beginning with God. (inscribe C)

All things came to be through him, (inscribe +)

and without him nothing came to be. (inscribe M)

And the Word became flesh (inscribe +)

and made his dwelling among us, (inscribe B)

and we saw his glory, (inscribe +)

the glory as of the Father’s only Son, (inscribe 2)

full of grace and truth. (inscribe 3)

… then with the Holy Water, making the sign of the cross three times over the entrance, proclaiming “Christus ... Mansionem ... Benedicat” and calling it a night.

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This day is remembered throughout the world by various names. In many parts of Europe, Epiphany retains its distinction as "Little Christmas." Among the Greek Orthodox, the waters of the harbor are blessed by the local priest. In Spanish-speaking countries, it is known as “Dia de los Tres Reyes” (“Day of the Three Kings”). There are parades on the main street, such as this one in Madrid, Spain.

Although we know the "kings" were not actually royalty at all, but scholars in astronomy and other sciences who came from Persia, tradition has associated Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar -- their names as rendered in various apocryphal gospel accounts -- as representing the Orient, Europe, and Africa, the three great land masses of the known world in the first millennium.

As with the eve of Saint Nicholas Day in parts of western Europe, children in the Hispanic world are known to leave their shoes out and receive candy and other treats by the next morning. In Spain, children traditionally received presents on this day, rather than on Christmas, although recent years have seen both Christmas and Epiphany as a time for gift-giving.

I just love parades.

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This day is also the occasion for the solemn pronouncement of movable feasts for the coming year, using the chant from the Pontificale Romanum. Other resources for the occasion can be found at Fisheaters.

Christmastide: Twelfth Night

When I was growing up back in Ohio, the village of Milford had its own way of disposing of old Christmas trees. They would be collected and taken to some field at the edge of town, stacked in a big pile, and "Twelfth Night" would be celebrated with the lighting of a bonfire dubbed the "yule log."

This might seem remarkable when you consider that Milford is a town first settled by (and more than two centuries later, is still more or less dominated by) Methodists, as opposed to us "Catlickers." Of course, my parents -- may God rest their souls -- didn't go for that sort of ribaldry, so I never actually saw the so-called yule log ceremony, but I would always read about it that week in the local rag known as The Milford Advertiser.

(Here we note that Protestants in the northern states did not celebrate Christmas until well into the 19th century. It was even outlawed by the northern colonies in the early years of European settlement. The southern colonies, on the other hand ...)

These days, I imagine people would have a hard time penciling it in between trips to soccer practice and PTA meetings. In fact, since leaving the Buckeye State to seek my fortune elsewhere, I learned that the town has yielded to other priorities, as in this little gem I read a few years ago, from the county's Office of Environmental Quality:

“Many recycled trees are sent through a wood chipper and are used as mulch.”

They have got to be kidding. Is nothing sacred anymore? Why celebrate the glory of the season when you spend the rest of the year spreading it on your lawn and walking all over it?

Meanwhile, here at Chez Alexandre, we will celebrate Epiphany on the traditional day all along. Tomorrow the lights that are traditionally left on all during Christmastide, will finally be shut off in the evening and taken down. They will be put back in storage along with the decorations, waiting for the season to return.

Last of all, the dying tree is sent to its final resting place, in the years that we actually have a live tree, which is the case this year.

Joy, health, love and peace
Be all here in this place
By your leave we will sing
Concerning our King.

Our King is well dressed
In silks of the best
In ribbons so rare
No King can compare.

We have traveled many miles
Over hedges and stiles
In search of our King
Unto you we bring.

We have powder and shot
To conquer the lot
We have cannon and ball
To conquer them all.

Old Christmas
    is past
Twelvetide
    is the last
And we bid
    you adieu
Great joy
    to the new.

See all twelve days commemorated at the "xmas12days2022-2023" label.

Christmastide: Day 12 (St Telesphorus/St John Neumann)

“On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, twelve drummers drumming ...”

The 2022 Christmas Price Index sees the Twelve Drummers marching to a very similar beat as in 2021. A tight labor market drove their price up slightly this year (up 2.6 percent to $3,266.93).

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Contrary to popular opinion (including that of people who should know better), the sixth day of January is not the twelfth day of Christmas. The day before, the fifth of January, is the twelfth day of Christmas. The following day, the sixth of January, is the first day of Epiphanytide.

(Don't believe me? Get the calendar. Do the math. You're welcome.)

To Everything There Is (More Than A) Season

Another misconception, one growing in recent years among traditional Catholics, is that Christmas literally lasts for forty days, leading up to the Feast of the Presentation, or Candlemas Day. No, Christmas does not last for forty days. Well, not exactly.

Let's back up a minute and go over the distinctions. I'll use big letters so no one misses anything. (Whatever I can do to help.)

The TEMPORAL CYCLE of the traditional Church year has two sections; CHRISTMAS and EASTER. The CHRISTMAS SECTION has three seasons. The first season is the ADVENT SEASON. The second season is the CHRISTMAS SEASON, which runs from 25 December (the day of the "Christ Mass" itself) to the end of the Octave of the Epiphany on 13 January (the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord). The third season is the EPIPHANY SEASON, which runs from 14 January (the day after the Feast of the Baptism) to the Saturday (or Eve) of Septuagesima (the pre-Lenten season). The number of days varies based upon when the Paschal Sunday falls, based on the Sunday after the first full moon after the Vernal Equinox. Nevertheless, it is with Septuagesima Sunday that the EASTER SECTION of the temporal cycle begins. (We'll deal with that whole thing later. Probably.)

Cycle. Section. Season. Got all that? Good, there's more.

So, what of the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary (also known in the West as the Feast of the Presentation of Our Lord Jesus Christ), or Candlemas Day, forty days after Christmas? In his commentaries found in the Saint Andrew Daily Missal, Dom Gaspar refers to it thus:

There is, however, a "satellite feast" of the Christmas Season, the Purification, occurring invariably 40 days after Christmas (Feb 2), sometimes in the Time after Epiphany [that is, the "Epiphany Season"]. For that reason, it has been placed in the Sanctoral Cycle, although its object brings it into close connexion [sic] with the Christmas section of the Sanctoral Cycle.

Well, that wasn't much help, was it?

Or was it?

The above being said, how the time for Christmas observance is calculated still tends to vary. In 1969, the reformed Roman calander composed by men with nothing better to do expanded the season by a variable number of days, from Christmas Day itself, up to and including the Sunday after Epiphany or the sixth of January. However, in the 1960 Code of Rubrics that were placed in force before all hell broke loose defines Christmastide as running from First Vespers of Christmas to None (midafternoon prayer) of the fifth of January inclusive. However, it became a custom during the Middle Ages for the forty-day observance of Christmas. Even to this day, the Christian cultures of western Europe and Latin America still maintain the forty-day observance.

The result would appear to be a distinction between that which is codified as law, and that which falls under the category of customary law, or to put it another way, the folkways of a people of Faith. It is as such, then, that we continue to celebrate the coming of God-With-Us, but not in the same way as in the first twelve days. That is why we have Carnivale in Brazil, Mardi Gras (the weekend and culminating on the Tuesday before the start of Lent) in New Orleans and beyond, and in the Philippines, the Feast of Santo Niño on the third Sunday of January. (More on that last one later as well.)

And once again ... you're welcome.

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Meanwhile ...

Today, the reformed Roman calendar also honors Saint John Nepomucene Neumann, a native of Bohemia and Redemptorist priest who was appointed Bishop of Philadelphia in the mid-19th century, and who was a key figure in spreading the Faith to an ever-expanding United States of America.

In the traditional Roman calendar, Mother Church remembers Pope Saint Telesphorus, elected Bishop of Rome in 126, and martyred ten years later. The tradition of celebrating Mass on Christmas at Midnight, the celebration of Easter on Sundays, the keeping of a seven-week Lent before Easter, and the singing of the Gloria, all are attributed by tradition to his pontificate, even as the historical accuracy of these claims remains in doubt.

Tonight, a season ends, and here at Chez Alexandre, we start the day by taking the ornaments down from the tree, and elsewhere in the house. Tomorrow, a new season begins. Stay tuned ...

See all twelve days in progress at the "xmas12days2022-2023" label.

Christmastide: Day 11 (St Elizabeth Ann Seton)

“On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eleven pipers piping ...”

Live music is once again tuned up after its pandemic lull. The Eleven Pipers grew in cost by a modest 2.6 percent – reflecting rising compensation in 2022 (to $3,021.40).

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The end of Christmastide draws near, but is still with us. And yet, as the workweek returns to normal, the party is effectively over. Trees have been taken down to sit on the curb, and commercials for "holiday sales" have already faded away. Meanwhile ...

Today is the feast of Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton, the foundress of the Sisters of Charity of Saint Joseph, the mother of the Nation's parochial school system, and patroness of Catholic schools. Raised to the altar by Pope Paul VI in 1975, she was the first native-born American to be so honored.

From the original motherhouse in Emmitsburg, Maryland, a branch house was established out west, its occupants known today as the Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati, based at Mount Saint Joseph-on-the-Ohio, on the city's once-predominantly-Catholic west side. This order did much, not only to build the parochial school system in this part of the Midwest through their teaching apostolate, but its health care system as well, through the establishment of Good Samaritan Hospital in 1852.

Concerning the role of women Religious and the health care apostolate, much has changed in recent years, to say the least. In light of certain health care legislation signed into law in the United States, and the capitulation by certain "leaders" of women religious orders, in forcing others to cooperate in acts against the Gospel of Life, let us pause for a moment to consider the irony.

And hope for a restoration of common sense, not to mention the Gospel of Life, to the issue.

See all twelve days in progress at the "xmas12days2022-2023" label.

Christmastide: Day 10 (St Geneviève)

“On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, ten lords a-leaping ...”

If fancy gift giving is your thing, nothing tops these lords of the dance. The Ten Lords-a-Leaping top this year’s index with a $13,980 price tag (an increase of 24.2 percent) – the most expensive gift in this year’s index.

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Today, the churches of both the East and the West remember the French shepherd girl Saint Geneviève, who lived in the mid- and late-fifth century. Her sanctity was noted at a very early age by Saint Germanus, bishop of Auxerre, who consecrated her to God at the age of seven. Genevieve is the patroness of the city of Paris, which has been saved through her intercession more than once, the first time from her contemporary, Attila the Hun.

Geneviève loved to pray in church alone at night. On one such occasion, a gust of wind came into the church and blew out her candle, leaving her in darkness. She attributed this act of nature to the Evil One himself, that he was trying to frighten her. Thus she is often depicted holding a candle. Other images show an irritated devil standing nearby.

In the two decades of this weblog's existence, her commemoration has been a very popular one. Don't ask me why.

See all twelve days in progress at the "xmas12days2022-2023" label.

Christmastide: Day 9 (The Holy Name of Jesus)

“On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, nine ladies dancing ...”

Leading the lineup of performers in 2022, the Nine Ladies Dancing twirled out of the pandemic to the tune of a 10 percent raise (to $8,308.12).

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The traditional Roman calendar associates this day with the Holy Name of Jesus.* It used to be associated with the day before, with the Feast of the Circumcision. (Even in the present day, the Gospel reading for both feasts is identical.) Then in 1913, Pope Pius X moved it to the Sunday between the second and the fifth January inclusive, and in years when no such Sunday existed, to be observed on the second of January (as it is this year). Don't ask me why.

The circumcision of a newborn male under Jewish law must take place eight days after the child's birth, at which time he is given his name. Small wonder, then, that the Gospel readings for both feasts in the traditional Roman calendar are the same. The Anglicans and Lutherans celebrate both on the first of January, as did the Roman church for quite some time -- you know, being the eighth day and all.

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And speaking of names ...

I once heard a comedian pose this important theological question: “If Jesus was Jewish, why did He have an Hispanic name?” That occasion aside, it gives us an occasion of our own, to consider that the name "Jesus" was not an uncommon one in His day. Brian Palmer writes for Slate:

Many people shared the name. Christ's given name, commonly Romanized as Yeshua, was quite common in first-century Galilee. ("Jesus" comes from the transliteration of Yeshua into Greek and then English.) Archaeologists have unearthed the tombs of 71 Yeshuas from the period of Jesus' death. The name also appears 30 times in the Old Testament in reference to four separate characters -- including a descendant of Aaron who helped to distribute offerings of grain (2 Chronicles 31:15) and a man who accompanied former captives of Nebuchadnezzar back to Jerusalem (Ezra 2:2) ...

How would Christ have been addressed by those around him?

He certainly would not have been addressed as "Mister Christ." After all, "Christ" was not a name, but an honorific, a title if you will, from the Greek Khristós for "anointed one." The Hebrew word was Moshiach or "Messiah." He would have been known by His given name, and the name of His father -- “Yeshua bar Yehosef” or “Jesus Son of Joseph.” In later centuries, or in present-day Iceland, we might easily surmise His being addressed as “Jesus Josephson,” Or, given the nature of the family business, He might have been known as “Jesus Carpenter.”

We also know that He eventually left Nazareth in Galilee, the town of His childhood, for other parts of that country, as well as Samaria and Judea. In those places, He would have been just as likely addressed as “Yeshua Nasraya” or “Jesus of Nazareth.” The Gospel accounts tell us of the inscription on the Cross, which gave both His name and His offense, in three languages: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” (actually, “Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum” in Latin, “Ihsoûs ó Nazoraîos ó Basileùs tôn ’Ioudaìov” in Greek, and “Yeshua HaNazarei v Melech HaYehudim”, or more precisely, "ישו מנצרת מלך היהודים" in Hebrew). After all, a guy from a hick town like Nazareth would have been rather conspicuous in a high-falutin' place like Jerusalem, especially outside of the High Holydays.

The Scriptures also record him being addressed as “Jesus Son of David.” A man would also have been known for his extended family; that is, his tribe or house, as in “Yeshua ben David” or “Jesus of the House of David.” But even though family lineage was everything in Jewish society, such an address might not have been as common in everyday use.

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Devotion to the Holy Name has also been the inspiration for the National Association of the Holy Name Society. HNS chapters have been the basis for men's clubs in Catholic parishes for generations. Their mission includes the corporal works of mercy (feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, comforting the afflicted, that sort of thing), and acts of reparation for the misuse of the holy name.

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On that note, we have a couple of Holy Name stories.

First is an account from an old veteran Scouter, an American living in Mexico.

"While visiting my present Mexican hometown several years ago, I got an urgent message to call collect to an unfamiliar number in Chicago. Turned out it was the FBI, hoping I could help them; did I know anyone in México named 'Chuy,' a common nickname for anyone, male or female, carrying the name Jesús. When I told the agent yes, explained that there were seven in the village where I was staying, including the sheriff, he responded, 'Oh, you mean there's more than one?'"

And of course, I have one of my own.

Once I had a confessor who gave me very good advice, for those occasions when I would, shall we say, use a very short form of the Jesus Prayer in an inappropriate context. He advised me that I say immediately afterward, “Blessed be His holy name.” It's no substitute for the Sacrament of Penance, but it's a rather handy form of reparation.

Whatever works.

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* At one time combined with the Feast of the Circumcision on 1 January, before the 1913 calendar reforms of Pope Pius X, thus the revisionist conspiracy is even worse than many are led to believe. Adding to the mystery, is that the controversial liturgist Annabale Bugnini was only born the previous year, calling his own part in said conspiracy into question.

See all twelve days in progress at the "xmas12days2022-2023" label.

Christmastide: Day 8 (Circumcision/St Basil)

“On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eight maids a-milking ...”

Where were you on July 24, 2009? The Eight Maids-a-Milking were fresh off of their last pay raise. The Federal Minimum Wage hasn't changed since that date and neither has the cost of this gift. (at $58.00).

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The world knows it as New Year's Day. The Church knows it by several other names.

First and foremost, it is the “Octave-day” or eighth day of Christmastide (or "Twelvetide," if you will). Such was its name in the earliest liturgical books, thus remembered as the day of Circumcision, when a son of Israel was marked according to the Law. (It hurts just thinking about it.)

In both forms of the Roman Rite, the brief account from Luke is proclaimed:

At that time, after eight days were accomplished, that the Child should be circumcised: His Name was called Jesus, which was called by the angel before He was conceived in the womb. (Luke 2:21)

In the reformed Missal, the day is primarily known as the Solemnity of Mary the Mother of God. While appearing as a break in tradition, it is a reminder of the Marian emphasis of the Feast, as found even in the orations of the usus antiquior. It was the tradition in Rome that the Pope would go to one of the many churches in the city, whichever was the "Station" for that particular feast -- in the case of this one, the Basilica of Saint Mary Major.

But wait, there is one more ...

In the East, today is known not only for the Circumcision, but as the Feast of Saint Basil the Great, bishop of Caesarea in the fourth century, and one of the great Fathers of the Eastern Church. Today is when the Greeks would traditionally exchange gifts. For many years, when I couldn't meet with Paul for Christmas (and as he was raised in the Byzantine Rite of his mother), I would make an occasion of this day.

With all that arcane information, you still have to admit that four names for one day are a lot. And to think the year is just getting started.

See all twelve days in progress at the "xmas12days2022-2023" label.