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Around the Year with the TRAPP FAMILY
Maria Augusta Trapp
Music Arranged by Franz Wasner
Illustrations by Rosemary Trapp and Nikolaus E. Wolff
COPYRIGHT 1955, BY PANTHEON BOOKS INC.
333 SIXTH AVENUE/NEW YORK 14, N.Y.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NO. M[55]-1016
The quotations on pp. 35, 36, 106 and 107, courtesy of Harcourt, Brace &
Co., New York.
CONTENTS
Introduction
CELEBRATING WITH THE FAMILY IN HEAVEN
Christmas Season
Advent
Christmas (From Christmas Eve To Candlemas Day, February 2)
Carnival (January 6 To Ash Wednesday)
Easter Cycle
Pre-Lent (Septuagesima To Ash Wednesday)
Lent
Passiontide (Passion Sunday To Holy Saturday)
Paschaltide (Easter Night To Saturday After Pentecost)
The Green Meadow
Corpus Christi
The Feast of the Sacred Heart
The Feast of Christ the King
The Feasts of Mary
Pilgrimages
The Angels
The Saints
All Souls' Day
The Land Without a Sunday
CELEBRATING WITH THE FAMILY ON EARTH
As the Evenings Grow Longer
Our Life--A Feast
LIST OF SONGS
Songs for Advent
You Heavens, Dew Drop from Above
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel
Drop Your Dew, Ye Clouds of Heaven
O Saviour, Heaven's Portal Rend
Maria Walks Amid the Thorn
Blessed Mother of the Saviour
Songs for the Christmas Season
Shepherds, Up!
From Heaven High,
O Angels, Come
O Infant, God's Eternal Son
Song for the New Year
Child Jesus so Dear
The Virgin's Lullabye
Antiphon for Candlemas Day
Hail Mary, Queen in Heav'n Enthroned
Songs for Carnival
Turkey in the Straw
The Echo Yodel
The Riddle Song
Aunt Rhody
Songs for the Easter Cycle
Antiphon for Lent
O Head, All Scarred and Bleeding
Open, O Hard and Sinful Heart!
Alleluia
Rejoice, O Rejoice, Heavenly Queen
Three Women at Break of Day
Easter Hymn
Easter Eggs!
To Thee, the Holy Ghost, We Now Pray
Songs of the Virgin Mary
Ave Maria (Mozart)
Ave Maria Dear
Salve Regina
'Tis Said of Our Dear Lady
Stella Matutina
Beautiful, Glorious
A Single Branch Three Roses Bore
Virgin Blessed, Thou Star the Fairest
St. Raphael
An Hour of Song
Welcome, Welcome!
Si Cantemo
The Nightingale
The Musicians
Three Geese Are Sitting Near
Quando Conveniunt (Gossip Canon)
If I Knew
Death and Sleep
The Wise Men
The St. Martin's Canon
New Oysters
Viva la Musica!
Sing Heave and Ho
Come, Follow
Flow Gently, Sweet Afton
The Echo
Dona Nobis Pacem
Why Does Life
Good Night
INTRODUCTION
Once I watched the transplanting of a full-grown tree. It was a big tree
with a wide crown and it had come a far distance. The most amazing thing,
however, was that the tree brought an enormous clump of dirt along,
almost as big as its crown. The gardener explained to me that grown trees
cannot be transplanted as saplings are--the latter are taken out of the
soil by the roots and put into their new place without minding it in the
least.
"The roots of the grown tree wouldn't take to a new environment, so we
have to bring it in its own home-dirt." And the old German gardener used
the word "Heimaterde."
A year later, on a very hot day, I passed through that town again. I
remembered that tree and felt impelled to look it up. When I found it, it
looked as if it had always grown there, holding out its wide branches
protectingly over a group of people who enjoyed its cool shade.
When a whole family group has to be transplanted from one continent to
another, it is very much the same. When Hitler's troops invaded our
homeland, Austria, in 1938, my husband and I felt bound in conscience to
save our children from yielding to the religion and philosophy of this
neo-paganism, and this could only be done by transplanting the whole big
tree. The exciting story of this adventure--for every transplanting of a
grown tree is an adventure--I have told in my first book, "The Story of
the Trapp Family Singers." Here I only want to write about one aspect of
it.
When we finally reached the hospitable shores of this country, we arrived
in New York City, the fourteen of us, possessing a total of four dollars.
Most of us knew no English and we had no relatives or friends on this
vast continent. We were real refugees and we were really poor.
Or so we thought! Soon we were to discover the surprising news that
although we had no money, we were not poor at all. The Heavenly Father,
Who had done the transplanting, had left all the necessary dirt around
the roots. The inner environment of the tree, that part which is hidden
from the eye, had not been touched: our family life, as we were used to
living it around the year, went on undisturbed as before. Every day found
us gathered around the altar in the morning, then trying to find and live
the Will of God as it showed itself in each particular day to each one of
us until we met again together for evening prayer and blessing; then
there would be Sunday, celebrated by manifesting more love of God and
love of neighbor; and the weeks would pass, and the rhythm of the year of
the Church, with all its moods and rich meanings--the happy expectancy of
Advent, the fulfillment of Christmas, the sorrow of Lent and Holy Week,
the glory of Easter and Pentecost--would become a powerful force in our
daily life. In this "school of living" Holy Mother Church teaches her
children how to celebrate. In it one learns how to turn family days such
as birthdays, anniversaries, baptisms, weddings, and even funerals into
feasts celebrated in the Lord.
Storms, sometimes gale-size, may trouble the crown of the tree, but as
long as its roots are firmly imbedded, the healthy tree will weather many
a tempest. And not only that! It will share its own well-being with all
the ones who need its cool shade for protection from the heat of noon.
More and more often, friends who happened to drop in on our Sundays and
feast clays would say afterwards "These lovely old folk customs of
yours--couldn't they be introduced in our homes too? They really are not
necessarily Austrian or Polish or Italian--they are Catholic, which is
universal."
I realize of course that the customs that accompany our life are
predominantly Austrian, and that other countries have developed other
ways of sanctifying life, equally valid. Still, our Austrian ones are an
expression of a deeply Catholic feeling, and they have grown out of times
and from people who found it natural to carry over their beliefs into the
forms of everyday life. I also realize that traditions cannot be simply
imitated. But if some of my readers find in this book hints that will
make Catholic home life more warm and expressive of our religion, and
above all that will bring children and parents closer together, in
adolescence as well as in early youth, I will feel happy in the thought
that the tree has been able to thank its new country, by passing on some
of the strength it brought here with the earth around its roots.
Celebrating with the Family in Heaven
Christmas Season
Advent
The events that come to mind when we say "Christmas," "Easter,"
"Pentecost," are so tremendous that their commemoration cannot be
celebrated in a single day each. Weeks are needed. First, weeks of
preparation, of becoming attuned in body and soul, and then weeks of
celebration. This goes back to an age when people still had time--time to
live, time to enjoy. In our own day, we face the puzzling fact that the
more time-saving gadgets we invent, the more new buttons to push in order
to "save hours of work"--the less time we actually have. We have no more
time to read books; we can only afford digests. We have no time to walk a
quarter of a mile; we have to hop into a car. We have no time to make
things by hand; we buy them ready made in the five-and-ten or in the
supermarket. This atmosphere of "hurry up, let's go" does not provide the
necessary leisure in which to anticipate and celebrate a feast. But as
soon as people stop celebrating they really do not live any more--they
are being lived, as it were. The alarming question arises: what is being
done with all the time that is constantly being saved? We invent more
machines and more gadgets, which will relieve us more and more from the
work formerly done by our hands, our feet, our brain, and which will
carry us in feverishly increasing speed--where? Perhaps to the moon and
other planets, but more probably to our final destruction.
Only the Church throws light onto the gloomy prospects of modern
man--Holy Mother Church--for she belongs, herself, to a realm that has
its past and present in Time, but its future in the World Without End.
It was fall when we arrived in the United States. The first weeks passed
rapidly, filled with new discoveries every day, and soon we came across a
beautiful feast, which we had never celebrated before: Thanksgiving Day,
an exclusively American feast. With great enthusiasm we included it in
the calendar of our family feasts.
Who can describe our astonishment, however, when a few days after our
first Thanksgiving Day we heard from a loudspeaker in a large department
store the unmistakable melody of "Silent Night"! Upon our excited
inquiry, someone said, rather surprised: "What is the matter? Nothing is
the matter. Time for Christmas shopping!"
It took several Christmas seasons before we understood the connection
between Christmas shopping and "Silent Night" and the other carols
blaring from loudspeakers in these pre-Christmas weeks. And even now that
we do understand, it still disturbs us greatly. These weeks before
Christmas, known as the weeks of Advent, are meant to be spent in
expectation and waiting. This is the season for Advent songs--those
age-old hymns of longing and waiting; "Silent Night" should be sung for
the first time on Christmas Eve. We found that hardly anybody knows any
Advent songs. And we were startled by something else soon after
Christmas, Christmas trees and decorations vanish from the show windows
to be replaced by New Year's advertisements. On our concert trips across
the country we also saw that the lighted Christmas trees disappear from
homes and front yards and no one thinks to sing a carol as late as
January 2nd. This was all very strange to us, for we were used to the
old-world Christmas, which was altogether different but which we
determined to celebrate now in our new country.
THE ADVENT WREATH
In the week before the first Sunday in Advent, we began to inquire where
we could obtain the various things necessary to make an Advent wreath
"A what?" was the invariable answer, accompanied by a blank look.
And we learned that nobody seemed to know what an Advent wreath is. (This
was fifteen years ago.) For us it was not a question of whether or not we
would have an Advent wreath. The wreath was a must. Advent would be
unthinkable without it. The question was only how to get it in a country
where nobody seemed to know about it.
Back in Austria we used to go to a toy shop and buy a large hoop, about
three feet in diameter. Then we would tie hay around it, three inches
thick, as a foundation; and around this we would make a beautiful wreath
of balsam twigs. The whole was about three feet in diameter and ten
inches thick. As we tried the different toy shops in Philadelphia, the
sales people only smiled indulgently and made us feel like Rip Van
Winkle. "Around the turn of the century" they had sold the last hoop.
"Necessity is the mother of invention." Martina, who had made the Advent
wreath during our last Advents back home, decided to buy strong wire at a
hardware store and braid it into a round hoop. Then she tied old
newspaper around it, instead of hay, and went out to look for balsam
twigs. We lived in Germantown, a suburb of Philadelphia. Martina looked
at all the evergreens in our friends' gardens, but there was no balsam
fir. So she chose the next best and came home with a laundry basket full
of twigs from a yew tree. In the hardware store, where she had bought the
wire, she also got four tall spikes, which she worked into her newspaper
reel as candleholders, and in the five-and-ten next door she bought a few
yards of strong red ribbon and four candles. The yew twigs made a
somewhat feathery Advent wreath; but, said Martina, "It's round and it's
made of evergreen, and that is all that is necessary." And she was right.
An Advent wreath is round as a symbol of God's mercy of which every
season of Advent is a new reminder; and it has to be made of evergreens
to symbolize God's "everlastingness."
This was the only Advent we celebrated at home because the manager who
arranged the concerts for us had discovered that our tenth child would
soon arrive and had canceled the concerts for the month of December. In
the next few years a much smaller Advent wreath would be made by our
children and fastened to the ceiling of the big blue bus in which we
toured the country. We always started out by looking for balsam fir, but
not until years later, when we were to have our own farm in Vermont,
would we have a balsam Advent wreath again. Meanwhile we had to take what
we could find in the way of evergreens in Georgia it was holly; in
Virginia, boxwood; in Florida, pine. The least desirable of all was
spruce, which we used the year we traveled through Wisconsin, because
spruce loses its needles quickest. But as long as it was an evergreen....
In order to get ready for the celebration of the beginning of Advent, one
more thing has to be added a tall, thick candle, the Advent candle, as a
symbol of Him Whom we call "the Light of the World." During these weeks
of Advent it will be the only light for the family evening prayer. Its
feeble light is the symbol and reminder of mankind's state of spiritual
darkness during Advent.
On the first of January a new calendar year begins. On the first Sunday
of Advent the new year of the Church begins. Therefore, the Saturday
preceding the first Advent Sunday has something of the character of a New
Year's Eve. One of the old customs is to choose a patron saint for the
new year of the Church. The family meets on Saturday evening, and with
the help of the missal and a book called "The Martyrology," which lists
thousands of saints as they are celebrated throughout the year, they
choose as many new saints as there are members of the household. We
always choose them according to a special theme. One year, for instance,
we had all the different Church Fathers; another year we chose only
martyrs; then again, only saints of the new world....During the war we
chose one saint of every country at war.
The newly chosen names are handed over to the calligrapher of the family
(first it was Johanna; after she married, Rosemary took over). She writes
the names of the saints in gothic lettering on little cards. Then she
writes the name of every member of the household on an individual card
and hands the two sets over to the mother. Now everything is ready.
In the afternoon of the first Sunday of Advent, around vesper time, the
whole family--and this always means "family" in the larger sense of the
word, including all the members of the household--meets in the living
room. The Advent wreath hangs suspended from the ceiling on four red
ribbons; the Advent candle stands in the middle of the table or on a
little stand on the side. Solemnly the father lights one candle on the
Advent wreath, and, for the first time, the big Advent candle. Then he
reads the Gospel of the first Sunday of Advent. After this the special
song of Advent is intoned for the first time, the ancient "Ye heavens,
dew drop from above, and rain ye clouds the Just One...."
It cannot be said often enough that during these weeks before Christmas,
songs and hymns of Advent should be sung. No Christmas carols!
Consciously we should work toward restoring the true character of waiting
and longing to these precious weeks before Christmas. Just before
Midnight Mass, on December 24th, is the moment to sing for the first time
"Silent Night, Holy Night," for this is the song for this very night. It
may be repeated afterwards as many times as we please, but it should not
be sung before that holy night.
Since we have found that Advent hymns have been largely forgotten, we
want to include here the ones we most often sing; and we also want to
explain how we collected our songs. First, there were a certain number,
the traditional ones, which were still sung in homes and in church during
the weeks of Advent. Then we looked for collections in libraries; we
inquired among friends and acquaintances; we wrote to people we had met
on our travels in foreign countries. Each song that has come to us in
this way is particularly dear to us--a personal friend rather than a
chance acquaintance.
YOU HEAVENS, DEW DROP FROM ABOVE
Text, Isaias 45,8; melody, first (Dorian) mode. This is the medieval
Advent call--sing three times, each time a tone higher.
Ye Heavens, dew drop from above and rain ye clouds the just one.
O COME, O COME, EMMANUEL
The text of this hymn is based on the seven Great Antiphons (O-Antiphons)
which are said before and after the Magnificat at Vespers from December
17 to 23. The metrical Latin form dates from the early 18th century.
English translation J. M. Neale (1818-1866), and "The Hymnal of the
Protestant Episcopal Church in U.S.A." (stanzas 2 and 4), by permission
of "The Church Pension Fund." Melody, first (Dorian) mode.
1. O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
Refrain: Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel!
Shall come to thee, O Israel!
2. O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,
Who ordrest all things mightily;
To us the path of knowledge show,
And teach us in her ways to go.--Refrain
3. O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heav'nly home;
Make safe the way that leads to thee,
And close the path to misery.--Refrain
4. O come, Desire of Nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind;
Bid thou our sad divisions cease,
And be thyself our King of Peace.--Refrain
DROP YOUR DEW, YE CLOUDS OF HEAVEN
Text, Michael Denis, 1774; melody, 18th century Austrian, probably
Michael Haydn, 1737-1806.
1. Drop your dew, ye clouds of heaven,
Rain the Just One now to save!
With that cry the night was riven
From the world, a yawning grave.
On the earth by God forsaken
Sin and death their toll had taken.
Tightly shut was heaven's gate,
For salvation all must wait.
2. To redeem our sad condition
Was the Father's loving Will,
And the Son took the glad mission
His decision to fulfill.
Gabriel to earth descended,
Brought the answer long attended
"See the Handmaid of the Lord,
Do according to thy word."
3. Let us walk with right intention,
Not in drunkenness and greed,
Quarrels, envies and contention
Banished far from us indeed.
Fully now to imitate Him
As with longing we await Him
Is the duty of these days,
As the great Apostle says.
O SAVIOUR, HEAVEN'S PORTAL REND
Text and melody, 17th century German. This forceful melody in the first
(Dorian) mode should be sung in unison.
1. O Saviour, heaven's portals rend,
Come down, from heav'n, to earth descend!
Open celestial gate and door;
Never to lock nor fasten more.
2. O brilliant Sun, O lovely Star,
We dare behold Thee from afar.
O Sun arise, without Thy light
We languish all in darkest night.
3. Drop dew, ye heavens from above,
Come in the dew, O God of love!
Ye clouds now break, rain down the King,
His peace to Jacob's house to bring.
MARIA WALKS AMID THE THORN
German folksong known since the 16th century; probably much older.
Translation, Henry S. Drinker.
1. Maria walks amid the thorn,
Kyrie eleison,
Which seven years no leaf has borne,
She walks amid the wood of thorn,
Jesus and Maria.
2. What 'neath her heart does Mary bear?
Kyrie eleison.
A little child does Mary bear,
Beneath her heart He nestles there.
Jesus and Maria.
3. And as the two are passing near,
Kyrie eleison,
Lo! roses on the thorns appear,
Lo! roses on the thorns appear.
Jesus and Maria.
BLESSED MOTHER OF THE SAVIOUR
Text by Hermann the Cripple, 1013-1054, monk at Reichenau in the Lake of
Constance. Melody in the fifth (Lydian) mode. This is the liturgical
Antiphon in honor of the Blessed Virgin for the season of Advent and
Christmas.
Blessed Mother of the Savior,
thou art the gate leading us to heaven,
and Star of the Sea, aid thy falling people,
help all those who seek to rise again.
Thou who art the Mother, all nature wondering,
to thy Lord, thy own Creator: Virgin before, Virgin forever,
from Gabriel's mouth thou didst hear that blessed Ave,
on us poor sinners take pity.
After our first gathering around the Advent light, and the singing of the
first Advent hymn, an air of expectancy spreads over the family group;
now comes the moment when the mother goes around with a bowl in which are
the little cards with the names of the new saints. Everybody draws a card
and puts it in his missal. This saint will be invoked every morning after
morning prayer. Everyone is supposed to look up and study the life story
of his new friend, and some time during the coming year he will tell the
family all about it. As there are so many of us, we come to know about
different saints every year. Sometimes this calls for considerable
research on the part of the unfortunate one who has drawn St. Eustachius,
for instance, or St. Bibiana. But the custom has become very dear to us,
and every year it seems as if the family circle were enlarged by all
those new brothers and sisters entering in and becoming known and loved
by all.
And then comes another exciting moment. Once more the mother appears with
the bowl, which she passes around. This time the pieces of paper contain
the names of the members of the family and are neatly rolled up, because
the drawing has to be done in great secrecy. The person whose name one
has drawn is now in one's special care. From this day until Christmas,
one has to do as many little favors for him or her as one can. One has to
provide at least one surprise every single day--but without ever being
found out. This creates a wonderful atmosphere of joyful suspense,
kindness, and thoughtfulness. Perhaps you will find that somebody has
made your bed or shined your shoes or has informed you, in a disguised
handwriting on a holy card, that "a rosary has been said for you today"
or a number of sacrifices have been offered up. This new relationship is
called "Christkindl" (Christ Child) in the old country, where children
believe that the Christmas tree and the gifts under it are brought down
by the Christ Child himself.
The beautiful thing about this particular custom is that the relationship
is a reciprocal one. The person whose name I have drawn and who is under
my care becomes for me the helpless little Christ Child in the manger;
and as I am performing these many little acts of love and consideration
for someone in the family I am really doing them for the Infant of
Bethlehem, according to the word, "And he that shall receive one such
little child in my name, receiveth me." That is why this particular
person turns into "my Christkindl." At the same time I am the
"Christkindl" also for the one I am caring for because I want to imitate
the Holy Child and render all those little services in the same spirit as
He did in that small house of Nazareth, when as a child He served His
Mother and His foster father with a similar love and devotion.
Many times throughout these weeks can be heard such exclamations as, "I
have a wonderful Christkindl this year!" or, "Goodness, I forgot to do
something for my Christkindl and it is already suppertime!" It is a
delightful custom, which creates much of the true Christmas spirit and
ought to be spread far and wide.
And there is still one very important thing to do for Advent. According
to Austrian custom, every member of the family writes a letter to the
Holy Child mentioning his resolutions for the weeks of Advent and listing
all his wishes for gifts. This "Christkindl Brief" (letter to the Holy
Child) is put on the window sill, from whence the Guardian Angel will
take it up to heaven to read it aloud to the Holy Child.
To make small children (and older ones, too) aware of the happy
expectancy of Advent, there is a special Advent calendar which clever
hands can make at home. It might be a house with windows for each day of
Advent; every morning the child opens another window, behind which
appears a star, an angel, or some other picture appropriate to the
season. On the 23rd, all windows are open, but the big entrance door
still is closed. That is opened on Christmas Eve, when it reveals the
Holy Child in the manger, or a Christmas tree. All kinds of variations on
this theme are possible, such as the Jacob's Ladder shown on our
illustration, which leads step by step to the day of Christ's birth. All
such little aids make Christmas more wonderful and "special" to a child,
and preparing them adds to our own Christmas joy.
{Advent Calendar: Take piece of cardboard; cut out clouds, leaving them
attached at one point so that they can fold out. Cut spaces in ladder as
on insert so that they can fold down. Take transparent paper same size as
cardboard. Paint and draw pictures of stars, angels, toys, etc. on spots
behind clouds and ladder steps. For top cloud, put Christmas tree or
Christ Child in crib. Paste this on back of calendar. Each day another
cloud or ladder step should be opened, until Christmas Eve is reached on
top of ladder.}
ST. BARBARA'S DAY
There is a group of fourteen saints known as the "Fourteen Auxiliary
Saints." In Austria they are sometimes pictured together in an old
chapel, or over a side altar of a church; each one has an attribute by
which he may be recognized--St. George will be shown with a dragon, or
St. Blaise with two candles crossed. One of these Auxiliary Saints is St.
Barbara, whose feast is celebrated on December 4th. She can be recognized
by her tower (in which she was kept prisoner) and the ciborium surmounted
by the Sacred Host. St. Barbara is invoked against lightning and sudden
death. She is the patron saint of miners and artillery men and she is
also invoked by young unmarried girls to pick the right husband for them.
On the fourth of December, unmarried members of the household are
supposed to go out into the orchard and cut twigs from the cherry trees
and put them into water. There is an old belief that whoever's cherry
twig blossoms on Christmas Day can expect to get married in the following
year. As most of us are always on tour at this time of the year, someone
at home will be commissioned to "cut the cherry twigs." These will be put
in a vase in a dark corner, each one with a name tag, and on Christmas
Day they will be eagerly examined; and even if they are good for nothing
else, they provide a nice table decoration for the Christmas dinner.
ST. NICHOLAS' DAY
Although St. Nicholas is not in the illustrious company of the Fourteen
Auxiliary Saints, he has been one of the most popular saints in the East
and in the West for many hundreds of years. He is the patron of seafarers
and also of scholars, bankers, and--thieves. But most of all, he is the
very special saint of children. Devotion to St. Nicholas is found in
every European country. In the north, in Scandinavia and in northern
Germany, he is known as Santa Claus. I do not know what happened to him
on his way from Europe to America. While he is still pictured in the old
world as an ascetic-looking bishop with cope, mitre, and crozier, since
crossing the ocean he has turned into a fat, jolly, red-nosed, elderly
gentleman in a snowsuit and a red cap. From Lapland he has brought his
reindeer. Unfortunately, he has changed the date of his appearance. In
the old country he comes on the evening before his feast day (the feast
of St. Nicholas, on December 6th), accompanied by the "Krampus," an ugly,
chain-rattling little devil, who has to deal with the children who have
been naughty. St. Nicholas is much too kind to do the punishing and
scolding himself.
It all goes back to the days when St. Nicholas was Bishop of Myra, where
he once discreetly threw alms in through a window as a dowry for three
young girls, who would otherwise have been sold into slavery, according
to the custom of the day. For this good deed God rewarded him by giving
him permission to walk the streets of earth on the eve of his feast,
bringing gifts to all good children.
While in some places the children only put their shoes on the window sill
on the eve of St. Nicholas' Day and find them filled with candies,
cookies, oranges, and dried fruit the next morning (but only the good
ones; the bad ones find a switch), in other parts St. Nicholas comes in
person. He always did in our house. On the eve of December 5th the whole
family would gather in the living room with great expectancy. By the time
the much-expected knock at the door could be heard, one could almost hear
the anxious heartbeat of the little ones. The holy bishop, in his
pontifical vestments, accompanied by Krampus, would enter the room while
everybody stood up reverently. St. Nicholas always carried a thick book
in which the Guardian Angels make their entries throughout the year.
That's why the saint has such an astonishing knowledge about everybody.
He calls each member of the household forward, rewarding the good and
admonishing the less good. The good children will get a package of
sweets, whereas Krampus aims at the legs of the children who did not
deserve one. After everyone has received his due, the holy bishop
addresses a few words of general admonition to the whole family, acting
as a precursor to the One Who is to come, drawing their thoughts toward
Christmas, asking them to prepare their hearts for the coming of the Holy
Child. After giving his blessing, he takes his leave, accompanied
reverently by the mother, who opens the door for him. Soon afterwards the
father, who, oddly enough, usually misses this august visit, will come
home, and he has to hear everything about it from the youngest in the
house.
Of course it did not occur to us, even in the first and second years in
America, that St. Nicholas' Day should pass without the dear saint's
appearing in our family circle. In the old home this beloved bishop's
attire was stored away in the attic to be used every year on the evening
before his feast, but now we had to work with cardboard and paper for the
mitre, a bed sheet for an alb, a golden damask curtain borrowed from
friends for a cope, and a broomstick artistically transformed into a
bishop's staff. But at the right moment St. Nicholas opened the door.
That taught us that it really does not require money, but only
imagination and good will, to revive or introduce these lovely old
customs.
"St. Nicholas smells of Christmas, don't you think, Mother?" one of my
little girls said once, meaning that on December 5th the whole house was
filled with the same good smell as it would be in the days just before
Christmas. For this day there is a special kind of cookie called
"Speculatius". The dough is rolled very thin and then cut in the shape of
St. Nicholas, and these little figures are then decorated with icing in
different colors and candied fruit. And just as we are sharing with the
reader our ancient songs and customs, I believe we should also share
those ancient recipes that have come down to us through the centuries. So
here is the recipe for "Speculatius" (St. Nicholas). It comes from
Holland.
Speculatius
1 cup butter 4 tsp. cinnamon
1 cup lard 1/2 tsp. nutmeg
2 cups brown sugar 1/2 tsp. cloves
1/2 cup sour cream 4-1/2 cups sifted flour
1/2 tsp. soda 1/2 cup chopped nuts
Cream the butter, lard, and sugar. Add sour cream alternately with sifted
dry ingredients. Stir in nuts. Knead the dough into rolls. Wrap the rolls
in waxed paper and chill in the refrigerator overnight. Roll the dough
very thin and cut it into shapes. Bake in moderate oven 10 to 15 minutes.
Another family recipe must not be forgotten here. As we are a rather
cosmopolitan family, with one branch of English relatives and with my
husband's people coming from northern Germany, and sprinkled with cousins
from France and Italy and Switzerland, not to mention personal culinary
memories of my husband's early years in the Balkans and our own far-flung
journeys, we have quite a number of recipes. This one is a venerated old
"must"--a real British plum pudding. It has to be started on the first
Sunday of Advent, which in England is still known to this day as "Stir-Up
Sunday." There is an old belief that the more you stir a pudding the
better it will be, and that each member of the household must come for a
good stir. Plum pudding is painstaking to make, and time-consuming, but
when it finally appears on the table, aflame with burning brandy,
everyone agrees that it was worth the trouble and it wouldn't be
Christmas without it.
Plum Pudding
1 lb. suet 1 fresh orange peel
3 cups brown sugar 1/4 lb. candied orange peel
2 cups stale bread crumbs 1/4 lb. candied grapefruit peel
6 eggs 1-1/2 lb. raisins
juice of ten oranges 1/2 lb. currants
4 cups sifted flour 1/2 lb. citron
1 tsp. ginger 1/4 lb. blanched almonds
1 tsp. salt 2 medium-size raw potatoes
1 tsp. cinnamon 2 medium-size raw apples
1 tsp. nutmeg 2 medium-size raw carrots
1 fresh lemon peel
Grind the suet and bread. Moisten with beaten eggs and orange juice. Add
sifted dry ingredients. Grind fresh and candied peel with the raw
vegetables. Add these to the batter. Stir in raisins, currants, citron,
and almonds. If the pudding is dry or lumpy, add fruit juice. Pack in
buttered tins and steam.
"And steam" is taken literally in our house, even now in the days of the
pressure cooker. It takes a whole day, eight to ten hours, but then the
pudding keeps indefinitely, or, rather, it improves with time. As I write
this we have just begun the holy season of Advent.
Yesterday there was in my mail a somewhat bulky, large envelope and when
I picked it up, something rattled. I found a Christmas card from our good
friends the Sisters of Social Service, and a little brown envelope
containing seeds (that, of course, explained the rattling). "Christmas
wheat," it said. When I read the explanation, I was happy to know that
here was a group who wanted to share a folk custom from their old
home--the Sisters of Social Service were founded in Hungary--with their
friends in America. With the permission of the Sisters, I pass on the
story of this lovely custom, feeling sure that many of us will wish to
adopt it.
THE MEANING OF THE CHRISTMAS WHEAT
It is an ancient Hungarian custom to offer to the Infant in the manger
the green sprouts of wheat.
Agriculture is the mainstay of the Hungarian nation and wheat is the
symbol of sustenance and prosperity for this nation. It is therefore the
most suitable gift for the newborn Saviour.
But it also has a meaning for everyone. The "new wheat" symbolizes the
"new bread" in the natural order and also the "New Bread of Life" in the
supernatural order; for it is from wheat that the altar bread is made
which becomes the Holy Eucharist, the bread of our souls.
The wheat seeds are planted on the day of St. Lucy, the virgin martyr,
December 13th. Kept in a moderately warm room and watered daily, the
plant reaches its full growth by Christmas. The little daily care given
to it is flavored with the joy of expectation for the approaching
Christmas and spreads the spirit of cheerfulness as the tender plant
reminds us of our spiritual rebirth through the mysteries of Christmas.
To plant the seeds, take a flower pot four or five inches in height and
fill it with plain garden sod. Spread the seeds on the top and press
gently, so that the seeds are covered with sod. Do not push them too deep.
Watered daily at the manger and paying its simple homage to the newborn
Saviour, the plant will last until about January 6th.
"O all ye things that spring up in the earth, bless the Lord." (Canticle
of the Three Children)
THE CHRISTMAS CRIB
If asked about the origin of these old folk customs, one sometimes finds
it hard to answer. They have come down to us through the centuries out of
the gray past. Some are so old that they go back to pre-Christian times,
having been baptized together with the people and turned from pagan into
Christian customs. But once in a while we know how one or the other
custom originated. The Christmas crib as we have it today goes back to
St. Francis of Assisi. Not that he was the one who made the first creche.
This devotion is almost as old as the Church. We are told that the very
place of Christ's birth and the manger in which He lay "wrapped in
swaddling clothes" were already venerated in Bethlehem in the first
centuries of the Christian era. Later devout people substituted a silver
manger for the original one and built a basilica over it; and, with the
centuries, the veneration of the Holy Child Iying in the manger spread
all over the Christian countries. More and more ceremonies sprang up
around this devotion, until in medieval times they had grown into a real
theatre performance--drama, opera, and ballet combined. Finally, Pope
Honorius had to put a stop to this, for it had grown into an abuse. A
generation later St. Francis of Assisi got permission for his famous
Christmas celebration in the woods of Greccio near Assisi, on Christmas
Eve, 1223. His first biographer, Thomas of Celano, tells us how it
happened:
"It should be recorded and held in reverent memory what Blessed Francis
did near the town of Greccio, on the feast day of the Nativity of our
Lord Jesus Christ, three years before his glorious death. In that town
lived a certain man by the name of John (Messer Giovanni Velitta) who
stood in high esteem, and whose life was even better than his reputation.
Blessed Francis loved him with a special affection because, being very
noble and much honored, he despised the nobility of the flesh and strove
after the nobility of the soul.
"Blessed Francis often saw this man. He now called him about two weeks
before Christmas and said to him "If you desire that we should celebrate
this year's Christmas together at Greccio, go quickly and prepare what I
tell you; for I want to enact the memory of the Infant who was born at
Bethlehem and how He was deprived of all the comforts babies enjoy; how
He was bedded in the manger on hay between an ass and an ox. For once I
want to see all this with my own eyes." When that good and faithful man
had heard this, he departed quickly and prepared in the above-mentioned
place everything that the Saint had told him.
"The joyful day approached. The Brethren [the Friars who had gathered
around St. Francis] were called from many communities. The men and women
of the neighborhood, as best they could, prepared candles and torches to
brighten the night. Finally the Saint of God arrived, found everything
prepared, saw it and rejoiced. The crib was made ready, hay was brought,
the ox and ass were led to the spot....Greccio became a new Bethlehem.
The night was made radiant like the day, filling men and animals with
joy. The crowds drew near and rejoiced in the novelty of the celebration.
Their voices resounded from the woods, and the rocky cliffs echoed the
jubilant outburst. As they sang in praise of God the whole night rang
with exultation. The Saint of God stood before the crib, overcome with
devotion and wondrous joy. A solemn Mass was sung at the crib.
"The Saint, dressed in deacon's vestments, for a deacon he was, sang the
Gospel. Then he preached a delightful sermon to the people who stood
around him, speaking about the nativity of the poor King and the humble
town of Bethlehem....And whenever he mentioned the Child of Bethlehem or
the Name of Jesus, he seemed to lick his lips as if he would happily
taste and swallow the sweetness of that word." (Celano. "Life and
Miracles of St. Francis," as quoted in Francis X. Weiser, "The Christmas
Book," pp. 106 f., New York, Harcourt, Brace & Co.)
That is the beginning of the creche as we know it in our own day. St.
Francis' idea of bringing Bethlehem into one's own town spread quickly
all over the Christian world, and when there was a Christmas crib in
every church, the families began to re-enact the birth of Christ in their
homes too. With loving imagination, more or less elaborately, the little
town of Bethlehem would be reconstructed. There would be the cave with
the manger, "because there was no room at the inn," and the figures would
be carved in wood or modeled in clay or worked after the fashion of
puppets. They also might be drawn and painted and then glued on wood.
In some countries whole valleys would take up the carving of these
figures--as in Tyrolia and southern Bavaria. Some of these creches are
works of great art. On the long winter evenings, during the weeks of
Advent, the people are working on them. First, the scenery is set up
again, and then the figures are placed, each year seeing some new
additions, until such a crib fills almost a whole room with its hundreds
of figures.
Outside the town of Bethlehem, Connecticut, the nuns of the Benedictine
Priory, "Regina Laudis," have devoted a whole building to their huge
Christmas crib, a Neapolitan work that was given to them as a gift. This
beautiful crib could become an American shrine, the center for a
pilgrimage during the Christmas season.
Just as the Reformation did away with statues and pictures of saints in
Protestant churches, it also deprived many Protestant homes of the
creche. A few of the German sects, however, kept up this custom even
after the Reformation, and brought it to America. When the Moravians, for
example, founded the town of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, on a Christmas Eve,
they had preserved the custom of the creche.
{Top left: How to make the manger. Cut heavy paper to size, fold along
dotted lines and glue together; cut other pieces from wood and mount
together as in right picture.
{Center left: Cut enough strips of paper and fold into round sleeves to
fit over wire stem of palm on right; do not attach top wires until stem
is covered; make crown of palm from wire and tie on stem; cut leaves from
folded green paper as shown in drawing; cut fringes; unfold slightly and
mount on branches of palm tree. See final palm in crib scene.
{Bottom: Model wire puppet for crib figures.
{Cut figurine heads from blocks of plaster of Paris or mold them in wax.
Dress them with cloth.
{Cut sheep from plaster of Paris or wood, paint them.
{Cave: Use cardboard to get general shape and build around with stone and
moss. Carve animals same way as sheep.
{Angel: Make same way as other figures, attach cardboard wings on which
you glue gold foil. Make streamer from light board. Stitch on to hands of
angel.}
At home in Austria we wanted a creche which we could make mostly by
ourselves. That is why we did not buy one of the ready-made models, but
went out into the woods with the children before the first snowfall and
carried home stones, moss, bark, lichen, and pine cones. A large
table-top, three by five feet, was placed over two carpenter's sawhorses
and draped with green cloth. This was the foundation on which every year
a slightly different scene would be erected by artistic young hands--the
stony hill with the cave, the field, covered with moss, with shepherds in
the foreground. For the figures we bought only the heads and hands,
beautifully modeled in wax at a little store in Salzburg that sold
handmade and artistically decorated candles and "Lebkuchen". At home we
made the foundation of the figures with wire and then dressed them with
loving care, and it is incredible what ingenious hands can produce with a
needle and thread and remnants of dress material. Every evening during
Advent some time was devoted to the creche. At the end of the first week
the landscape was completed; the second week was animal week, at the end
of which many little sheep were grazing on the meadow and the ox was
standing in the cave. In the third week the shepherds appeared, watching
their sheep in little groups; while in the fourth week Mary and Joseph
could be seen approaching from afar with the little ass, advancing
steadily every day. Finally, on Christmas Eve, they reached the cave. The
ass joined the ox behind the empty manger. Mary was kneeling down in
expectation (that's the beauty of the wire under the blue dress the
figures can kneel, stand, or sit), while Saint Joseph hung up a lantern
above the manger and everyone seemed to hold his breath, waiting until
just before Midnight Mass. Then the youngest member of the family would
put the little Baby into the manger and joy would reach its height. After
Midnight Mass, the figure of the big angel would appear, suspended on a
long wire above the shepherds, announcing, "Glory to God in the Highest."
There is no telling how much love and joy goes into the making of such a
crib year after year.
Again I must go back to our first year in this country. Of course,
Christmas without a crib under the tree would for us have been Christmas
with something essential missing. The beloved figures of our Christmas
crib, however, were among the things we had left behind. But now the
older children's Christmas present to me in that memorable first year
turned out to be a large, elaborate Christmas crib with the figures and
the little town of Bethlehem, self-designed, cut out of cardboard and
hand-painted. Our neighbors in Germantown had kindly invited the children
to help themselves in their gardens to the necessary bark, moss, and
stones.
In addition to the large Christmas crib in the living room, we had one
more custom in our family as long as the children were little. We used to
place in the nursery a large wooden crib which could hold an almost
life-size Infant Jesus. On the first Sunday in Advent it would be empty,
but a big bag full of straw would rest beside it. Every evening, after
the family evening prayers, each child could take as many pieces of straw
from the bag as it had performed sacrifices and good deeds during the day
"in order to please the Infant Jesus"--in other words, out of love of
God. This is a precious opportunity for a mother to teach her little ones
the true nature of a sacrifice brought voluntarily for the love of God.
Meal times furnish excellent occasions for self-denial. To take an extra
helping of an unpopular vegetable or to pass up a delicious dessert may
be a real sacrifice for a child. So Hedwig ate a whole plateful of very
healthy but unloved beets, while Martina followed the chocolate cake with
longing eyes, saying, "No, thank you," however. Toys gave another
opportunity for self-denial. I could hardly believe my eyes when I found
Hedwig's favorite doll, "Happy," in Martina's lap, and Martina's little
family of dwarfs--Father Dwarf, Mother Dwarf, and Baby Dwarf--in
Johanna's corner, while Johanna had put her otherwise jealously guarded
doll house into the middle of the room for everybody to use. These may be
acts of heroism; we have only to think of the parable of the widow's
mite--in the eyes of God she had given more than any other, for the
others gave from their abundance, while she had given all she had.
What a race among the youngsters from evening to evening until the crib
was finally filled to the brim! When, on Christmas Eve, little
Martina--for a long time the youngest among the children--was allowed to
put the Holy Child on His bed of straw, the Infant seemed to smile at the
children, grateful for the soft bed prepared with so much love. It is
curious how such a childhood habit stays with you through life. You may
be grown up, even white-haired, but all during Advent you will feel the
same urge to "collect more straws for the crib."
SEEKING SHELTER
In the old country we had in our house an oil painting showing St. Joseph
leading the Blessed Mother, who was with Child and looked fatigued and
tired, as they were asking shelter at the inn. Through the crack of the
door one could see the ugly, rough face of the innkeeper, and it was
rather easy to guess what he had just said. This picture played a big
role during the last part of Advent in the custom called "Herbergsuchen"
(seeking shelter). By lot, nine members of the household were chosen to
be host to this holy couple, to make up for the hard words, each one in
turn offering room and shelter for one day. The children, especially,
vied with each other, decorating little altars with candles and fir
branches and trying to outdo each other in loving care for the august
visitors. The one who was the host for the day could have the picture in
his room and spend as much time with his holy guests as he wanted and
school permitted. He could, for instance, take his meals together with
them upstairs. How inspiring this is for the imagination of the very
young--sharing even their meals with the poor Holy Mother, who "doesn't
look so tired any more and seems to like it here." Every night, before
evening prayers, the whole family would gather outside the room where the
picture had stayed for the day, and in solemn procession it would be
carried through the house accompanied by the singing of Advent songs,
until it reached the next resting place. Each evening there would be
enacted the scene before the closed door of the inn. We used to sing the
old Austrian "Herbergsucherlied," the song called "Wer Kopfet an":
Who's knocking at my door?
Two people poor and low.
What are you asking for?
That you may mercy show.
We are, O Sir, in sorry plight,
O grant us shelter here tonight.
You ask in vain.
We beg a place to rest.
It's "no" again!
You will be greatly blessed.
I told you no!
You cannot stay.
Get out of here and go your way.
When we were in Mexico, we learned that there they have a similar custom,
called the Posada. On the nine evenings before Christmas they play the
"Herbergsuchen" from house to house. They invite the local priest, who
joins the procession, saying prayers. Eight nights the holy couple is
refused shelter and on the ninth evening, Christmas Eve, they are let
into a house where everything is prepared most lovingly--a large cradle
is waiting, and while a statue of the Infant is put on the straw, the
cradle is being rocked and a famous lullaby is being chanted, "A la
Rurruru."
As the weeks of Advent are now our busiest concert season, we have had to
give up this custom of "Herbergsuchen"--but only in one way. Every
evening of these holy weeks of Advent we sing our Christmas program in a
different town. While doing so, we hope we may prepare a warm place for
the homeless holy couple in many hearts among our audiences.
CHRISTMAS GIFTS
In ancient Rome, people used to exchange gifts on New Year's Day.
According to their means, these might be jewelry, pieces of gold and
silver, or just home-made pastry, cookies, and candies. But they were a
means of saying "Happy New Year." (In French Canada this custom has been
preserved to the present day.)
This is one of the instances where Holy Mother Church took an already
existing custom and "baptized" it. When the Apostles brought the Gospel
to Rome, the people learned of the Three Wise Men who came from the
Orient to present gifts to the newborn King of the Jews. From then on,
the old custom was only slightly changed. The exchanging of presents
remained, but now it was done in imitation of the Three Holy Kings.
It should be understood that everyone in the family has a present for
everybody else; these presents should be precious, though not in terms of
money, as they should not be bought, but home-made. This is quite a task
in a large family, but fingers become skilled in handicrafts of many
kinds block prints, wood carvings, leather work, needle work, lettering
with beautiful illuminations, and clay work. All these, and one's
imagination, are called upon to create many beautiful, useful things,
which could not be bought for money because they are made not only with
the hands but also with the heart.
But it is not of the immediate family alone that we have to think when we
make gifts. The true Christmas spirit results in a desire, if only it
were possible, to extinguish all suffering, all hunger and need of any
kind, all over the world. Inspired by this desire, everyone prepares for
some poor or unfortunate member of the community some real substantial
Christmas joy. The parcels that have to go a long distance, or even
overseas, are made in the first week of Advent, and the boxes are lined
with fir branches from our own woods. "Geben ist seliger als nehmen" ("To
give is more blessed than to receive"), says an old proverb, and these
are the weeks of the year to prove how true it is. The very essence of
Christmas is to give, give, give--since at the very first Christmas the
Heavenly Father gave His only begotten Son to us.
THE OCTAVE OF CHRISTMAS
The great feasts of the Church--Christmas, Easter, Pentecost,
Epiphany--are privileged to have an octave. That means that the feast is
not over at the end of the first evening, but is celebrated for a whole
week. Octaves follow the feast like the train on a beautiful wedding
dress. Christmas alone is also preceded by an octave. By the seventeenth
of December, a week before the great day, not only the children are
impatient the Church herself has become so eager for Christmas that she
makes an impassioned appeal to the Messias to come, and to come quickly.
From that day on, in the so-called Greater Antiphons at Vespers (from the
initial letters they are called the "O-Antiphons") prayer and expectation
rise in an ever-growing crescendo. The whole of Advent is characterized
by the boundless desire for the coming of Christ expressed in the
liturgy, and one can almost feel the increasing impatience in the
antiphons for Vespers of the several Sundays "The Lord comes from afar"
(first Sunday); "the Lord will come" (second and third Sundays); "the
Lord is near" (fourth Sunday). Throughout the whole season there is a
growing emphasis on the Lord's coming--our remembrance of His first
coming, our glowing desire for His second coming at this present
Christmas, and our great expectation of His final coming in the latter
days.
These days of holy impatience should be marked also in the family. The
"O-Antiphons" might be written out on a piece of white cardboard, and
each day for the main family meal they might be put in the center of the
table, and afterwards added to the family's evening prayer.
An old custom comes down from the monasteries of medieval times, where
the monks used to get extra treats during this octave before Christmas.
For example, on December 19th, when the Church calls on Christ, "O Radix
Jesse" ("O Root of Jesse"), Brother Gardener brought his choicest
vegetables and fruits, with specially beautiful roots among them; or on
December 20th, when the Antiphon says, "O Key of David...." Brother
Cellarer used his key for the wine cellar and brought out the best wine.
Finally, on December 23rd, it was the turn of the Abbot, who came with
special gifts to the brothers. This beautiful custom could be restored in
families, the members of the house taking turns in providing a surprise
at the evening meal, leaving the last day for the father, the day before
that for the mother, the day before that for the oldest child, and so on.
There is also the tradition, going back to Honorius of Autun, that
connects the "O-Antiphons" with the seven Gifts of the Holy Ghost with
which the Holy Child was filled at the moment of His birth.
ST. THOMAS' DAY
Finally, St. Thomas' Day, December 21st, arrives. Throughout the Austrian
Alps this is the day when the "Kletzenbrot" has to be baked.
"Kletzenbrot" is the Tyrolean word for dried pears, but this bread
contains a mixture of dried fruit. There will be one large loaf made for
the family breakfast on Christmas morning, and an individual small loaf
for every member of the household. This "Kletzenbrot" keeps forever, and
it is as wholesome as it is delicious. Try it!
Kletzenbrot
2 cups whole wheat flour 1 cup chopped nuts
1 cup white flour 1 cup chopped prunes
2/3 cup brown sugar 1 cup chopped figs
3 tsp. baking powder 1 cup chopped dates
2 tsp. baking soda 1/2 cup raisins
1/4 tsp. salt 1/2 cup currants
2 cups buttermilk
Mix sifted dry ingredients in a bowl. Add buttermilk slowly and stir to a
smooth dough. Mix in the nuts, raisins, and the rest. Bake in a hot oven
for about an hour.
But not only "Kletzenbrot" is being baked--on St. Thomas' Day Christmas
baking begins, and from now on the house will be filled with a cloud of
delicious smells. Some of this Christmas baking--the choicest delicacies
in the realm of cookies and candies--will be hung on the Christmas tree,
which is altogether different from an American one. Of the many varieties
we always preferred the cookies known as "Lebkuchen" (or
"Lebzelten").("Lebkuchen" means "bread of life," and the name seems to be
more than a coincidence when one thinks of it as the traditional bread
baked for the birthday of the One Who said, "I have come that you may
have life and that you may have it more abundantly." To Austrians, there
are some cookies so connected with Christmas that they are an absolute
"must." Of these, "Lebkuchen" is Number One.
They get better with age, and they are responsible for the unique scent
known in our family as "Christmas smell."
Recipes for the various cookies are often jealously guarded in individual
families, each one having its own tradition. From the dozens and dozens
of delicacies, I shall choose those we consider the eight best, in honor
of the eight days of the octave of Christmas--one for each day.
{Cookie cutters: Use sturdy shears and cut one inch strips from tin cans;
bend into shapes as indicated and fold over joints or solder.}
Lebkuchen
4 eggs, beaten 1 lb. sugar
3/4 lb. almonds, ground 1/8 to 1/4 lb. citron
1 tsp. cinnamon 1/2 lb. honey
1/2 tsp. cloves 3 tbsp. rum or wine
1/3 oz. powdered carbonate 1-1/2 lbs. flour, scant
of potassium
Dissolve powdered carbonate of potassium in the rum or wine. Sift the
spices with the flour. Add the citron. Beat the eggs, add the sugar and
the remaining ingredients. Roll on board 1/4 inch thick and cut into
2-by-3-inch squares. Lay on greased tins; let stand in cool place over
night. Bake at 325 degrees F. for 25 minutes and frost with plain icing.
And here is a cheaper recipe, which we used during the war years:
Lebkuchen
4 whole eggs 1 tsp. cinnamon
1 lb. brown sugar 2 oz. citron, cut fine
2 cups flour 1/4 lb. almonds or pecans
Beat eggs and sugar until fluffy. Mix flour and cinnamon with finely
chopped nuts and citron; combine the two mixtures. Bake in two greased
10-by-15-inch pans in a moderate oven, 375 degrees F., for 25 minutes.
Frost with plain icing.
Another typical cookie for the Christmas tree is called "Spanish Wind."
Spanish Wind
3 egg whites
3/4 cup confectioners' sugar
1 tbsp. cornstarch
Beat whites until stiff. Add 3/4 cup confectioners' sugar gradually; beat
mixture until marshmallowy. Mix the cornstarch and remaining sugar and
fold gently into the egg-white mixture. Put through pastry tube onto
greased pan lined with waxed paper in the form of small wreaths. Bake in
a slow oven, 275 degrees F., for 45 minutes.
Blanch almonds, dry over night, grind very fine. Sift sugar over them,
mix and knead to a stiff paste with the egg whites, or more egg, if
needed. Roll with hands on board sprinkled with confectioners' sugar. Cut
into pieces size of a walnut. Roll each piece 1/2 inch thick, form into
rings, crescents, hearts, bow knots and pretzel shapes, and bake until
slightly browned, in a moderately slow oven, 325 degrees F.
Most of these cookies are fastened with red string to the Christmas tree.
In addition, there have to be trays and trays of small pastry ready to be
eaten at random, like the following five recipes, each of which is a
delicacy:
Rum Balls
1/2 lb. vanilla wafers 1/2 cup light corn syrup
2 tsp. cocoa 1/4 cup rum or brandy
1 cup pecans, finely chopped Confectioners' sugar
Grind wafers very fine. Add nuts, cocoa, syrup, and rum. Stir until well
blended. Dust hands with confectioners' sugar and roll mixture into balls
the size of a walnut. Let stand for about an hour to dry partially. Then
roll in confectioners' sugar.
Nut Busserln
1 egg, beaten 1 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup sugar 5 tbsp. flour
Beat egg and sugar until very light; stir in chopped nuts, then add
flour. Drop by teaspoonful on greased cookie sheet and bake in a moderate
oven, 375 degrees F., about 10 minutes.
Beat the white of egg until stiff. Stir in the sugar well. Fold the
shredded cocoanut in last. Drop mixture from tip of spoon 1/2 inch apart
on greased cookie sheets. Bake in a slow oven, 250 degrees F., for 45
minutes. Remove from pan when slightly cool.
Beat egg whites until stiff, add sugar and grated nuts. Flavor with
vanilla or rum. Form into rolls 3/4 inch in diameter. Chill for 45
minutes. Cut into 1/2 inch slices. Bake on greased tin in moderate oven,
350 degrees F., about 15 minutes. While still warm, ice with
confectioners' sugar moistened with enough rum to spread.
Pfeffernuesse
2 cups corn syrup 1 tsp. soda
2 cups dark molasses 2 tsps. cinnamon
1 cup shortening 1/4 lb. citron, cut fine
1/2 lb. brown sugar 1/4 lb. almonds, chopped fine
10 cups flour 1 lemon, rind and juice
Warm syrup, add shortening and lemon juice and the remaining ingredients
in order given, soda mixed with flour. Roll into little balls, brush with
white of egg, place on greased pan far apart, and bake until brown, 350
degrees F. Roll in confectioners' sugar.
And then of course there must be quantities of just plain cookies. Here
is our recipe:
Plain Cookies
1/2 cup shortening 1/4 tsp. cream of tartar
1 egg 1-1/2 cups flour
1 cup sugar pinch of salt
1/2 tsp. baking powder 1 tsp. vanilla
Sift flour, baking powder, and cream of tartar. Cream shortening. Add
sugar gradually, beating until fluffy. Add egg. Beat well. Then gradually
add the flour mixture and flavoring. Roll into small balls. Set 1 inch
apart on greased cookie sheet. Flatten. Sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon.
Bake at 400 degrees F. about 10 to 12 minutes.
All through the 21st, 22nd, and 23rd, there is feverish activity in the
kitchen. Tin after tin filled with cookies comes out of the oven, plates
are piled high, "Kletzenbrot" and "Knorpeltorte" are finished, and
kitchen and pantry look like a pastry shop. It is a sweet torture to
smell these good aromatic perfumes and not to be allowed to taste even
one, since in our house we abstain from cookies during Advent.
By midnight on the 23rd all must be finished. The dawn of the 24th finds
a sober kitchen with all the goodies stored away and nothing left but the
ingredients for a very frugal breakfast and lunch. Christmas Eve is one
of the strictest fast days of the year. We have only a cup of coffee and
a piece of dry bread for breakfast. For lunch, a bowl of fish salad
stands on everyone's plate, and the only beverage is a glass of water.
This is a special traditional fish salad, and here is the recipe:
Fish Salad
1-1/2 cups cooked fish, flaked 2 hard-boiled egg yolks
1-1/2 cups shrimp 1/2 cup whipped heavy cream
3 tsp. onion, grated 1/3 cup mayonnaise
1 cup thinly sliced celery 2 tsp. lemon juice
Combine fish, shrimp, onion and celery, season with salt and pepper.
Sieve the egg yolks, mix with whipped cream, mayonnaise, and lemon juice.
Combine the fish mixture with dressing. Serve in individual bowls lined
with lettuce, garnish with a dash of paprika and a few capers. (This
makes about eight servings.)
And with this lunch on Christmas Eve we have come to the end of the holy
season of Advent. In the afternoon we begin the Vigil of Christmas.
CHRISTMAS
From Christmas Eve To Candlemas Day/ February 2
CHRISTMAS EVE
On Christmas Eve in the morning the Church sang, "This day you shall know
that the Lord is coming, and tomorrow you shall see His glory," and "Be
ye lifted up, O eternal gates, and the King of glory shall enter in," and
"The glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh together shall
see, that the mouth of the Lord hath spoken."
These promises will be fulfilled during Midnight Mass.
It must be in order that the grown-ups may devote themselves with a quiet
mind, unhindered by any commotion, to these great mysteries of the Holy
Night, that in most Catholic countries the giving of gifts has been
advanced to Christmas Eve. And so Christmas Eve is the day for our
children. When the little ones get up in the morning, they find the door
of the living room closed, and no one is allowed to go in, much less to
peek through the keyhole; because the Christ Child will come and bring
the Christmas tree and all the gifts. Only mother and father may assist
Him.
Christmas Eve is Confession day. Once more we listen to the voice of St.
John the Baptist, who admonishes us to prepare the way of the Lord and to
do penance. When the Holy Child is entrusted into our hearts at midnight
in our Christmas Communion, He shall find the place clean and swept and
warm with love.
There is a certain hush all through the house. People are tip-toeing and
whispering; at the same time there is an atmosphere of extreme activity.
Mother and father spend the day behind the closed doors, "helping the
Christ Child." In our house the large Christmas tree, twelve feet high,
always a beautiful, thick balsam fir, requires a lot of time to be
decorated "the old way." During the preceding nights, the older children
have wrapped up candies in tinfoil or in tissue paper with fringed edges
and have then tied red thread to candies as well as to hundreds of
cookies. They are hung on the tree first. On the lower branches we hang
also small apples and tangerines. Then come Christmas-tree decorations
from our home studios--angels and stars worked in silver or brass, which
will glitter later in the light of the candles. Yes, candles--because
there will be six dozen small candleholders with real candles fastened to
the branches. (On either side of the tree there will be a camouflaged
bucket with water and a mop with a long handle "just in case." So far we
have never needed it.) Next, dozens of packages of tinsel are emptied on
twigs and branches; and the last touch is silver chains spinning in
spider-web fashion, criss-crossed from branch to branch. The final effect
is like a fairy tale.
Every so often the mother is interrupted by a discreet knock at the
closed door and as she comes to open she can just hear steps running
away. Everything and anything is a big secret today. As she opens the
door just a little, she sees either a laundry basket or a cardboard box
filled with many packages, each one with its name tag. So every one of
the children comes with his gifts, for every one has prepared something
for everybody else.
In a large household such as ours--when we are without guests we are
eighteen--that means a great deal of arranging and rearranging until
finally everything seems to be in its place. The last thing is to put the
Christmas crib right next to the tree--the crib in the cold, dark cave
where Mary and Joseph have arrived last night after evening prayers.
{Decorations for Christmas Tree: Top two rows are various cookie samples
for the tree; third row, apple and tangerine; next six items can be cut
from heavy tin foil or aluminum foil, which is available in various
colors. Use knitting needle to scratch details into figures. Bottom right
samples of candy wrappings. Use colored tissue paper, tie with colored
string.}
When, finally, everything in the "Christmas Room" (as the living room is
called these days) is ready, the rest of the afternoon is devoted to
tidying up the house. Not only the workshops and rooms, but also every
drawer and closet is put in order. Then we all dress in our feast-day
best. When it gets dusky outside, we meet in the chapel. (Before we had
our chapel, we used to meet in a big bedroom upstairs.) Besides the vigil
light, there is only the little flame of the Advent candle burning. We
say the rosary, and afterwards we sing every one of our Advent hymns and
at the end a song to the Blessed Mother. When we are in the middle of it,
one can hear clearly the ringing of a little silver bell. A suppressed
sigh can be heard coming from the little ones. This is their hour,
because the bell announces that the Christ Child has come. Now we all go
downstairs, and the double doors of the living room are wide open. A big
Christmas tree stands there all ablaze in the light of many candles.
Tables covered with white cloths are heaped with beautifully wrapped
packages--gifts put there by love. First the youngest in the family steps
forward and recites the Nativity story according to St. Luke. Then we
sing for the first time "Silent Night"--three verses in German and in
English. (For the first time at home, that is. We have sung it many times
in our Christmas programs during the last weeks, always anticipating this
moment when it would be sung at home.) And then everyone wishes everyone
else, not a "Merry," but a "Blessed Christmas" "Gesegnete Weihnachten."
After this the mother leads everybody to his or her Place and, for the
next hour, the room is filled with happy exclamations.
Then the bell rings for an early supper. This, again, is traditional: carp
with potato salad and, as dessert, "Knorpeltorte."
The first one who gets up is the father. When he is fully dressed in his
heavy winter coat, he takes a lantern containing a burning candle and
stands all by himself in the hall and starts singing an old Christmas
carol that is only sung once a year. We never sing it earlier, and we
never repeat it afterwards.
SHEPHERDS, UP!
Austrian Carol, traditional.
Shepherds, up, your watch to take!
Your time of sleep is ending,
For the Good Shepherd is awake,
His earthly flock attending.
Refrain: Haste to the manger, to Mary, so mild,
Come and adore Him, the heavenly Child! (Repeat refrain)
As all through the house the bedroom doors are opening, the family one by
one come down and join the father in the song. Everyone comes ready to go
and everyone carries his lantern. There we stand now and sing verse after
verse--each verse a tone higher--until all of us have gathered. And then
we go out into ice and snow--because in Austria as well as in Vermont,
there is always a white Christmas (or almost always)--to the little
village church for Midnight Mass.
Stowe in Vermont being every bit as cold as Austria (and sometimes much
colder), this trip always reminds us very much of Christmas in the old
home. There it was about a ten-minute walk to the little church of Aigen
bei Salzburg, a village surrounded by mountains. We always used to linger
a little bit in front of the church, listening to the strains of "Silent
Night" and "Oh, du Frohliche," played on horns from the church steeple,
and watching the many little sparks coming down the mountains--the people
carrying torches and lanterns. It looked as if stars were walking down
the mountainside--a lovely picture.
Now in our new home, "Cor Unum," in Stowe, Vermont, we do it this way As
the church is three miles away, we do not walk there; but once in a while
it happens that the road leading up our hill is coated with ice. Then, on
the way home from Midnight Mass we leave the cars at the foot of the hill
and walk up. This is a real treat. Parts of the road go through the
woods, and as we climb up the hill, the snow squeaking at every step, the
stars seem to glitter much brighter than any other night, and the cold,
crisp winter air seems to be saturated with that peace which has been
particular to the Christmas season ever since the first Christmas when
the angel announced it "...and peace on earth to men of good will."
At home there awaits us another treat. Supper has been early, and
everyone is hungry by now, so first there are hot boiled frankfurters
with dark rye bread, and then the famous Christmas punch, served with
Christmas "Stollen." This is the way we make the punch:
Christmas Punch
1 sliced pineapple 1 lb. sugar
1 bottle claret grated rind of 1 lemon
1 bottle red wine grated rind of 1 orange
1/2 bottle rum 4 whole oranges cut in pieces
juice of 4 lemons 1 stick cinnamon, broken up
juice of 4 oranges 1 vanilla bean
1 pint water 1/2 cup maraschino cherries
Boil spices thoroughly with the water. Remove them and pour the water
into large earthenware pot. Add lemon and orange and rind, as well as
pineapple and sugar (fruit and sugar prepared in a separate dish). Then
add wine and rum, cover and heat. Add champagne before serving.
This is strictly for the grownups. The children in the family get another
punch:
Christmas Punch for Children
1 qt. grape juice 1 stick cinnamon
2 qts. water juice of 2 lemons
2 cups sugar juice of 2 oranges
1/2 tsp. whole cloves rind of above lemons and oranges
Boil sugar, water, lemon rind, and spices until flavored. Mix with the
rest of the ingredients, boil five minutes, and serve hot in punch
glasses.
And here is the recipe for the Christmas "Stollen":
Stollen
4 cups flour 1/2 tsp. nutmeg
2 cups lukewarm milk 1 lb. butter, softened
1 tsp. salt 3/4 lb. raisins
2 cakes compressed yeast or 1/4 cup rum
2 packages dry granular 1/2 lb. chopped almonds
yeast grated rind of 1 lemon
1 cup sugar 1/2 cup each orange peel and
4 whole eggs citron, cut fine
Mix the yeast and milk, and stir in 1 cup flour. Let rise. Cream butter
with sugar, add eggs, one at a time, and beat well. Add lemon rind and
salt; combine the two mixtures, add flour, nutmeg, and knead until smooth
and elastic. Sprinkle flour over the dried fruits. Mix and add to the
dough with nuts and rum. Let rise until double its bulk. Toss on floured
board. Divide into three or more loaves. Roll out slightly, spread top
with melted butter, press down the center, and fold over double. Brush
melted butter over top, let rise until doubled, and bake in a moderate
oven, 350 degrees F., about 45 minutes. When slightly cool, cover with
plain icing.
This get-together after Midnight Mass in the Christmas Room, which is
filled with that indescribable "Christmas smell"--compounded of wax
candles, "Lebkuchen" and balsam fir--has such a very special quality that
even the word "gemutlich" becomes inadequate. It is hard to tear oneself
away from the Christmas tree and the presents. The children, big and
small alike, take the favorite present along to bed.
FROM HEAVEN HIGH, O ANGELS, COME
Text and melody, 17th century. The two parts written on the second stave
may be sung (soprano and alto, or alto and tenor) or played on any
instruments.
1. From heaven high, O angels, come,
Eya, eya, susani, susani, susani.
Come music, song, come pipe and drum,
Alleluia, alleluia. Of Jesus sing and Maria.
2. Let every instrument join in,
Eya, eya, susani, susani, susani.
Bring lute and harp and violin,
Alleluia, alleluia. Of Jesus sing and Maria.
3. Send forth your voices louder yet,
Eya, eya, susani, susani, susani.
With organ and with flageolet,
Alleluia, alleluia. Of Jesus sing and Maria.
4. How heavenly must the music be,
Eya, eya, susani, susani, susani.
Because a heavenly Child is He,
Alleluia, alleluia. Of Jesus sing and Maria.
5. To men on earth all peace may be,
Eya, eya, susani, susani, susani.
And praise to God eternally,
Alleluia, alleluia. Of Jesus sing and Maria.
O INFANT, GOD'S ETERNAL SON
Well known since 1623.
1. O Infant, God's eternal Son,
O manger, truly Solomon's throne.
O stable, beauteous paradise,
O straw like roses without price.
Child in oxen stall,
Make us holy all.
Infant in the hay,
Make us gay!
2. O Child, Thou art beyond compare,
Thy face as bright as roses fair,
Thou art all fair from head to feet,
And more than rarest honey sweet.
Child in oxen stall,
Make us holy all.
Infant in the hay,
Make us gay.
3. Thy tiny form is ivory white,
With glowing sapphire all alight,
The sapphire Thy divinity,
The ivory, sweet humanity.
Child in oxen stall,
Make us holy all.
Infant in the hay,
Make us gay!
4. Within Thy breast a light divine
With love toward every heart doth shine,
No joy of heaven can e'er replace
The joy of those who see Thy Face.
Child in oxen stall,
Make us holy all.
Infant in the hay,
Make us gay!
CHRISTMAS DAY
It is not a very long night, however. The morning finds us in chapel
again. After the "Angel Mass" at midnight, we return to the manger,
together with the simple guardians of the sheep, to the "Shepherds'
Mass," which should be said at dawn, to be followed at broad daylight by
a Solemn High Mass. It is as if the great mystery of the Incarnation
could not be contemplated enough in just one Holy Mass. The threefold
coming of Christ, for which we have been praying and waiting for weeks,
we like to celebrate in a threefold way. Already the little children get
a sense of the immense importance and mystery of the day when they are
summoned to church three times instead of once.
Afterwards, one is "holily tired," as one of our little girls once said,
and ready for Christmas dinner, which brings the traditional goose done
"just so."
Dessert for Christmas dinner is the plum pudding, carried in ablaze with
the lights turned out.
In the evening of Christmas Day we gather in the Christmas Room, light
the tree again, and sing Christmas carols to our hearts' delight.
FROM CHRISTMAS TO NEW YEAR
When we lived in Austria, the three greatest feasts of the year were
distinguished by two church holidays each Easter Sunday and Easter
Monday, Pentecost Sunday and Pentecost Monday, and St. Stephen's Day
after Christmas Day. We know that the war did away with these second
Church holidays, but they still exist in our memory and we always keep
them in our house. In Austria the peasants used to celebrate St.
Stephen's Day in a special way, because St. Stephen is the patron saint
for horses, watching over their health. After the Solemn High Mass the
pastor would come in surplice and stole and wait in front of the church
door with holy water and sprinkler. The horses of the village,
beautifully decorated with ribbons in their manes and tails, would now
parade before him in solemn procession and he would bless every single
one of them. He would also bless oats and hay, which each farmer had
brought along for that purpose; the horses would be fed with the blessed
feed, to protect them against sickness and accidents.
According to tradition, St. John the Apostle was once presented by his
enemies with a cup of poisoned wine intended to kill him. When the
Apostle made the sign of the cross over the wine, however, the cup split
in half and the poisoned wine was-spilled. In memory of this, the Church
has a special blessing, the "Benedictio Sancti Johannes." On the 27th,
the feast of St. John, the people bring wine along to church and before
Holy Mass the priest blesses it. At the main meal at home the wine is
poured into as many glasses as there are people. Just before the meal
begins, everybody stands up, holding his glass, while the father and
mother begin the St. John's Day ceremony. The father touches the mother's
glass with his glass, looks her in the eyes and says, "I drink to you the
love of St. John." The mother answers, "I thank you for the love of St.
John," and they both take a sip. Then the mother turns to the oldest
child and repeats, "I drink to you the love of St. John," and the child
answers, "I thank you for the love of St. John." Again they take a sip
and the child turns to the next oldest, and so it goes around the table
until the last one turns to the father and the family circle is closed.
Some of the blessed wine is kept for days of sickness or of great
celebration. If someone in the family is about to take a journey, a few
drops of the blessed wine are added to each wine glass and the whole
family again drinks "the love of St. John." Immediately after the wedding
ceremony, the newly-wed couple also drink to each other "the love of St.
John."
The day following St. John's Day is a great day for the children. This
goes back to a medieval custom in monastery schools: On December 28th,
the day dedicated to the Holy Innocents, the boys used to elect one from
their midst as bishop--"the Episcopus Puerorum." This boy-bishop would
take over the direction of the abbey for this one day. Dressed in
pontifical vestments, surrounded by his schoolmates, he would sit in the
place of the abbot and the others in the choir stalls of the monks,
whereas abbot and monks moved over to the places of the pupils. This
custom is still alive in many convents and monasteries, where the young
ones in the novitiate have the ruling of the house for this particular
day. It also is preserved in many families, where the little ones take
the seats of the father and mother and try to play a few little tricks on
the grownups as long as they are in authority.
December 31st, the last day of the old year, or New Year's Eve, finds the
whole family in the Christmas Room again. In the morning there was a
Thanksgiving Mass, solemnly starting the day. Looking back over the past
three hundred and sixty-five days with their bright and their dark hours,
we gave thanks for both the bright and the dark to Him Who knows what is
best for us. In some parts of the old country the people observe a strict
fast and abstinence during this day (which in earlier times was observed
solemnly throughout Christendom) as a token of its serious,
thought-provoking character.
NEW YEAR'S EVE
In our day, however, New Year's Eve is dedicated to fun and merrymaking.
Part of the fun consists in getting a glimpse of what the new year is
going to bring. All kinds of old superstitions are still alive, and
although no one believes in them, everyone joins in the fun. One sure way
of finding out what you are going to do in the new year is by
"lead-pouring." The party gathers around the fireplace, where, in an iron
ladle, pieces of old lead pipe are molten. (Any notion-counter carries
lead buttons, if pipes are unavailable!) You hold the ladle over the open
fire and, when the lead is liquid, you pour it into a bucket filled with
cold water. The lead will stiffen in all kinds of strange shapes. There
are several soothsayers in the family who have acquired a knack for
deciphering the lead language. With incredible skill they will inform you
that your piece of lead really has the shape of a sailing boat (or
locomotive, or the side view of a car), which indicates that you are
going to make a journey soon. (How astonishing--with a concert tour
always just around the corner!) Then there are distinct signs of a letter
which is already in the mail, full of surprises (how very likely--if your
daily mail brings thirty to forty letters). Then, and now you are really
warming up to it, there's money coming! Then you are warned: There is
somebody who doesn't like you (not really--how is that possible?); on the
other hand, you are lucky because somebody loves you very much, although
he keeps it hidden. Finally the young soothsayer concludes his analysis
of your New Year with these consoling words: You can be satisfied, as
there is much to look forward to!
When all the lead is poured and everyone has a good inkling of what to
expect in the coming year, we play games.
"Let's play the handkerchief game!" someone will suggest.
There we all sit in a large circle on the floor. A clean handkerchief is
tied up in knots so that it takes the shape of a ball and can be thrown
easily through the air. Hedwig volunteers to go out. Now we start
throwing the handkerchief across the circle. We have to keep it going
until Hedwig comes in. At the moment of her entrance, the one who has
just caught it will have to hide it, and Hedwig will have to guess where
the handkerchief is. She gives three warning knocks at the door, but as
we know that immediately after the third she will burst through the door,
we are getting increasingly nervous between the second and third
warnings. Sometimes it leads to hilarious situations. The moment Hedwig
steps into the room, everyone's features relax into complete, harmless
innocence. Everyone's face spells: "Handkerchief? I don't know what you
are talking about, Hedwig!" Hedwig has three guesses. If she hasn't found
out after the third one, she has to go out again. But this rarely
happens. Some people blush helpfully, others look like bad conscience
personified, wiggling nervously on the handkerchief they are trying to
hide by sitting on it. Everyone--guests, grownups, and children--has to
be in on the game. And of course, the one who has been discovered hiding
the handkerchief has to go out next.
From long years of experience I know that one should stop every game when
it is at its height. Never let it wear thin. So I suggest "Jump at
Quotations" and I'm always met with eager consent. Last New Year's Eve
the children took three quotations from my little speeches on the stage:
"Are you a tenor or a bass?" "And I am the mother!" "The family who plays
together and prays together usually stays together."
The teams are placed at opposite sides of the room. Each team gets the
same quotation. One word of the quotation gets pinned to the back of each
player. At "Go" one may read the word on the back of every other member
of one's team, but not that on one's own back. Rule: No oral
communication! The winning team is the one that first gets itself lined
up in correct order. (Have the words in large-size printing so the
"audience" can enjoy the fun too!)
And then there is the treasure hunt. Everyone gets a list of objects that
have been placed in plain sight in the Christmas Room. After it has been
explained to the guests that the object of the game is to locate all of
the "treasures" as quickly as possible and note them down on one's own
list, and after the rule has been stressed that nothing can be touched,
the signal to "Go" is given. This was last year's list, which by chance I
kept:
a cherry (on top of lampshade)
an olive (on a branch of the Christmas tree)
dry noodles (woven into wicker chair)
soap (on piano key)
an egg (in a light socket, instead of a bulb)
lump of sugar (on ceiling light)
toothbrush (over picture frame)
clothes pin (on lampshade)
picture of "Mother Trapp" (pasted on book jacket)
2-cent stamp (on pink book jacket, in bookshelf)
onion (on window sill)
"Cheerios" (in carving of chest)
In the margin of my list I had scribbled, "Funny, how blind people are!"
The time given to find the treasures was twenty minutes. And out of
fifty-four participants, only three found every item!
The next game has to be tried in order to be appreciated. It is called a
"Smiling Contest." There are two teams, two judges, two tape measures.
Each judge has a tape measure, pencil, and paper. One person from each
team comes forward. A judge then measures the width of his smile and
records it (one judge per team). The next pair come forward and are
measured in turn, until every smile has been measured. The judges then
add up the total yards of smiles for each team. The higher total wins,
and it is interesting to see who has the biggest smile, too. The funny
effect is in the two simultaneous smiles, each trying to outdo the other!
Then voices are heard "Let's sing some more carols!" Invariably Father
Wasner's voice will interrupt right here "First we are going to sing the
New Year's song!" And there we go "From heaven through the clouds on
high."
The very character of the evening lends itself to gay Christmas songs.
There are many in Austrian dialect dealing with the astonished shepherds
who cannot believe their eyes during Holy Night.
As eleven o'clock nears, someone will suggest, "Let's sing a few
lullabies." They always seem to be the very heart of our carol-singing.
Several are in Tyrolean dialect. Here we give some of our favorites.
Close to eleven o'clock, Agathe and Maria will disappear into the
kitchen, soon to return with trays of "Sylvester Punch." (In Austria the
last day of the year is dedicated to the Holy Pope, St. Sylvester, who
baptized Constantine the Great, thereby bringing about the dawning not
only of the New Year but of a new era; for this reason, the night before
the New Year is called "Sylvesterabend" (Eve of St. Sylvester).
Sylvester Punch
Red burgundy (count one bottle for six people)
Equal amount of hot tea
12 cloves
rind of 1 lemon
2 tbsp. sugar to each bottle of wine
2 cinnamon sticks to each bottle of wine
Pour the liquid into an enamel pot, add the cloves, the thinly pared rind
of 1 lemon, the sugar, and the cinnamon. Heat over a low flame but do not
allow to boil. At the last moment add the tea. Serve hot.
If there are many children and very young people, it is good to know
different fruit punch combinations. Here is a basic recipe, with
variations:
1/2 cup lemon juice grated rind of 1 lemon
1 cup orange juice 1 qt. water
grated rind of 1/2 orange 1 cup sugar
Cook sugar and water for five minutes. Cool. Add juices and the grated
rind and any of the following combinations:
It is great fun to try out new variations every year. One starts with
lemonade or orangeade and soon the children will go on to pineapple-ade,
raspberry-ade....In our family we have something called "Hedwig-ade"
because it is Hedwig's own secret.
SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR
Leonhard Lechner, 1553-1606. Translation by Hester Root. The original
composition is for five parts. They are here reduced to two parts.
From heaven through the clouds on high
A glad New Year is winging,
Great joy and graces bringing.
The dying year must now depart,
Forlorn and sad!
Another year e'er long we'll start,
Another year e'er long we'll start,
All bright and glad, all bright and glad,
All bright and glad, all bright and glad,
All bright and glad!
The dear Lord to us measure
According to His pleasure
Most of that year, most of that year,
In quiet peace,
Then joys that never, never cease,
then joys that never, never cease,
then joys that never, never cease!
CHILD JESUS SO DEAR
Text of first verse, Hymn Book, Cologne, 1623; of second and third verse,
Hymn Book, Strassburg, 1697. Melody more recent.
1. Child Jesus so dear, Thy manger is bare,
O Jesus so dear, so hard and so bare.
--Refrain: Ah, take Thy ease and Thy crying now cease,
Sleep and grant us eternal peace, eternal peace!
2. Winds, silence now keep and let the Child sleep!
All breezes away, that slumber he may.--Refrain
3. No movement is heard, no creature has stirred,
His eyelids now close in tender repose.--Refrain
THE VIRGIN'S LULLABYE
Tyrolean. The text should be sung by an alto voice, the soprano hums the
obbligato, which can also be played by a violin, flute, or recorder.
Very Slow And Meditatively
1. Thy dear cheeks, my Child are rosy red,
My love for Thee is strong as death.
And in Thy cheeks a-glow are dimples fine,
Thou art and shalt be ever mine.
Brightly shine Thine eyes and they are heav'nly blue,
There's none more sweet the whole world through.
Thy dear cheeks, my Child, are rosy red,
My love for Thee is strong as death.
2. Thy dear lips, my Child, are honey sweet,
When Thee I kiss, when Thee I greet.
And Thy darling hands are snowy white,
They are my joy, my heart's delight.
Thy two feet are tiny, they are soft,
They shall me guide to heaven aloft.
Guardian angels round Thy bed so bright,
I sing to Thee a sweet "Good Night."
After the punch is brought in, we form a circle and everybody raises his
glass. Then we say, in a chorus, "Happy New Year." From there we go up to
the chapel, because for the last half hour of the old year and the first
of the new year everyone wants to stand alone with his God. There is much
to think back on, much to be sorry for, and how we wish we could relive
parts of the old year, because we would do it differently now....But
this has to be commended to the mercy of God with a heartfelt act of
contrition. On the other hand, there is so much to be grateful for in the
spiritual and the physical order of our life. This Holy Hour around
midnight, starting at half past eleven and lasting to twelve-thirty, is
so timed that Father Wasner lifts the monstrance in Benediction at the
moment the clock strikes twelve.
Before we had a chapel, we held the same Holy Hour right there at the
Christmas crib, and when the clock struck twelve we got up from our knees
and sang "Holy God We Praise Thy Name," remaining a little while
afterwards, each one according to his need. The last moments of the old
year and the first moments of the new year are sanctified by Our Lord's
blessing.
From this Holy Hour everyone goes quietly to bed.
NEW YEAR'S DAY
Although the night was rather short, nobody wants to stay in bed long on
New Year's Day because there is an old belief that everything you do on
the first of January is an indication of how you will behave throughout
the next year. If you are late on New Year's morning, that's bad. You
will be late most of the days to come. So every child tries to be his
most charming best....
In the liturgy the beginning of the new year is not commemorated. The
Mass texts of New Year's Day are a combination of three different
thoughts: the circumcision of the Infant Jesus, the octave of Christmas,
and some texts taken from the Votive Mass of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
Thus there is a great likelihood that the priest once said three Masses
on this day.
New Year's dinner is a big occasion. This is the day of the suckling pig,
the little pig being one of the good luck symbols. The family table is
decorated with little pigs made of marzipan, chocolate, maple sugar,
fudge, or cookie dough. Besides the pig, there is also the four-leaf
clover, and, in Austria, the chimney sweep. As the recipe for the roast
suckling pig might not be generally known, here it is:
Roast Suckling Pig
Clean the pig carefully. Insert a piece of wood into its mouth to keep it
open while roasting.
You may use sage and onion dressing, which would taste more American, but
we always use the old Austrian apple stuffing. (We have heard of people
there who used to stuff their pigs with sausages, but that is awfully
rich.)
Now stuff the pig, truss and skewer it. Make four parallel incisions
about four inches long on each side of the backbone. Place it on a rack,
sprinkle it with salt and some pepper, brush thoroughly with melted
butter, and dust with flour.
Roast for 15 minutes at 480 degrees. Then reduce to 350. Continue
roasting, allowing 30 minutes to the pound. If you wish to have the skin
soft, baste every 15 minutes with hot stock. If you want it crisp (we
think it is much better that way), baste with melted butter. When the
roast is ready, remove to a hot serving platter. Now remove the piece of
wood from the mouth, replace with a bright red apple, and insert
cranberries for eyes. Finally crown with a wreath of bay leaves. Be
careful to wrap the ears and the tail during the roasting in buttered
paper, which you remove only the last half hour. Otherwise they easily
burn.
The dessert, after the roast pig, is green peppermint ice cream in the
shape of a four-leaf clover.
THE FEAST OF THE HOLY NAME OF JESUS
On the Sunday after New Year's Day the Church celebrates the feast of the
Holy Name of Jesus.
"But, Mother, this is Our Lord's feast day!" And Lorli, aged five, looked
as if she had made a big discovery.
"We have to celebrate it--but how? Do you think Our Lord would like His
monogram used as a table decoration?" asked Martina, who had just in that
year copied beautifully the "I.H.S." in genuine gold-leaf on a deep
cornflower-blue background.
And so it was done. The monogram of the name of Jesus was put as
centerpiece on the table, surrounded by flowers. We happened to have
company on that day and somebody asked, pointing to the golden letters,
"What is that?" And so we told the story:
Around 1400 there lived in Italy a holy Franciscan monk by the name of
Bernardin. From the name of his home town, he became famous as Bernardin
of Siena, and famous he became for his great eloquence. He was the most
renowned preacher of his days and he always had a great love and
admiration for the Holy Name of Jesus. Soon his fame had spread all over
Italy, and people came from far distances to hear Bernardin preach. All
the churches were too small to accommodate the crowds. In Siena he had to
use the big piazza. There was one great vice prevalent in his town at
that time: card-playing. Every night the men spent all their time and
money gambling, and the women did not know how to keep the fathers of the
family at home and how to prevent the household money from being gambled
away; so they went to St. Bernardin and asked him to do something about
it.
On the next Sunday, when the piazza was jammed with people as usual,
Bernardin got up in his improvised pulpit and preached with so much
fervor against card-playing that the people were deeply affected. At the
end of his sermon he asked them to bring their packs of playing cards and
put them on a pile in the middle of the piazza, and they really did so,
until there was a large pyramid of playing cards. The Saint lit a candle
from the vigil light of the altar and set fire to the pile. As he turned
around, a man approached him, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Padre,"
he wailed, "and what is to become of me?" And he informed the Saint that
he was the man who had manufactured the cards. "How shall I earn a living
now? I'm facing starvation if no one buys my cards any more." The Saint
looked startled for a moment. This had never occurred to him. He closed
his eyes and sent a silent, fervent prayer to Our Lord asking for
enlightenment. When he opened his eyes again, he smiled at the man and
said, "Give me a board and a piece of chalk." When the man had produced
both, St. Bernardin drew, in the lettering of his time, the letters
"I.H.S." (from the Latin "Jesus Hominum Salvator" meaning "Jesus, Saviour
of men"). "Print this instead," said the Saint, handing the board to the
man. "Golden letters on a blue background, and have them ready next week."
And on the next Sunday, when all the people had returned bringing friends
along until there was not a square foot left on the huge piazza, the
Saint gave his famous sermon on the efficacy of the Name of Jesus and how
we should carry it with us, how we should place it in our rooms over our
bed, in our prayer books, over the house doors, how we should carry it in
the form of a medal around the neck because it is the monogram of the
Name of Him Whom we should love more than anybody or anything else. The
people took this advice, and the little man who had formerly sold playing
cards sold from now on the famous monogram, which soon appeared cut in
stone, carved in wood, modeled in clay, printed on paper, used in
illuminations, and which is decorating our table today because of the
feast of the Holy Name which it represents.
EPIPHANY
In earlier times there were twelve holy nights between Christmas and
Epiphany--called "Smoke Nights," because the people went through their
houses and barns burning incense, blessing their homestead. Only one such
night is left, but this is celebrated with great solemnity: the Vigil of
Epiphany, January 5th. After the supper dishes are done, the whole
family, dressed in Sunday clothes, follow the father, who goes ahead with
a shovel of charcoal on which he burns incense, while the oldest son has
a bowl with holy water--Epiphany water, blessed with a much longer
formula than the ordinary holy water, a formula that contains a prolonged
exorcism, which makes it efficacious against all demoniacal
influence--which he sprinkles freely all over house and grounds and
barns, while the rest of the family follow behind, saying the rosary and
singing hymns. While the father and the oldest son are incensing and
blessing the house, the youngest child carries on a plate a piece of
chalk. This has been blessed with a special blessing from the Rituale
after the morning Mass. In the old country every household would be most
careful to send somebody into church for the blessing of the chalk. At
the very end, when the whole homestead had been blessed, room by room,
the father took the blessed chalk and wrote over every room that led from
the house into the open:
AD 19 C M B 55
which stands for "Anno Domini 1955--Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar" and
means that the three Holy Kings, Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, in this
year of Our Lord, 1955 (or whatever the year may be), are protecting this
house against all evil spirits.
Epiphany is also known as "Little Christmas." As a feast it is even much
older than our Christmas. On the Vigil, the eve before the feast, there
comes to the table a special Epiphany cake, in which three beans are
hidden--two white ones, one black one. Whoever gets a bean in his piece
has to dress up next day as a Holy King. The one who got the dark bean
will be the black King. (Soot from the fireplace or black shoe polish are
recommended.) On Epiphany Day the three Holy Kings, with golden crowns
and richly dressed in oriental splendor, are the guests of honor at the
table. Afterwards the whole family tries to entertain them and they have
the say of the evening. This is always an evening much looked forward to
by the whole house. We have had the most fantastic-looking magi at our
table. Before the three majesties leave the house again, they hand over
their gifts--equivalents for gold, incense, and myrrh.
CANDLEMAS
All through the month of January the creche is standing in the living
room, even if the Christmas tree has been removed, and every night the
family prayers will be said beside the crib, followed by at least one
Christmas song.
When Holy Mother Church came to Rome, in the time of the Apostles, she
found that the Roman women went around town with torches and other lights
on February 1st in honor of the goddess Ceres. The Church continued the
same custom but "baptized" it: Forty days after the birth of a child the
Jewish mother had to be purified in the temple, and so we celebrate on
February 2nd the Purification of Mary and the Presentation of her little
Son in the Temple; this should be celebrated in the light of many
candles, in honor of Him of Whom the old Simeon said on that day, "He
shall illumine the Gentiles with His light and shall be the glory of the
people of Israel." There was a special blessing for the water on Epiphany
Day, and there is a special solemn blessing for the candles on this
Candlemas Day. Besides having beautiful prayers, the Church helps us to
understand the symbolism of the light blessed on this day, so that we may
make the right use of it by the bed of the dying, during storms, and in
all perils to which may be exposed "our bodies and souls on land and on
the waters." The five special prayers of Candlemas Day are so beautiful
and so full of meaning that they should be read aloud as evening prayer
the night before and explained by parents to their children.
ANTIPHON FOR CANDLEMAS DAY
Recite the Canticle of Simeon (Luke 2, 29-32) and repeat the Antiphon
after each verse.
A Light to the revelation of the Gentiles: and the glory of Thy people
Israel.
On Candlemas Day every family should carry home a blessed candle, which
will have a special place on the home altar and will be lit in all
moments of danger, during thunderstorms, during sickness, in time of
tribulation.
Candlemas Day is a bitter-sweet feast. While in the morning the church is
bathed in the light of hundreds of candles in the hands of the faithful,
afterwards the creche is stored again. It marks the end of the Christmas
season; and the sheep and shepherds, the Gloria angel, the ox and the
ass, Mary and Joseph with the Infant, and the whole little town of
Bethlehem are hidden away for another year. There is always a tinge of
sadness in the air, because, during these long nine weeks, the Holy
Family has become so much a part of our household that it is hard to see
them go.
HAIL MARY, QUEEN IN HEAV'N ENTHRONED
From the evening of Candlemas to Easter this Antiphon is sung instead of
"Blessed Mother of the Saviour."
Hail Mary, Queen in Heav'n enthroned
Hail Thou, Mistress by all angels owned!
Root of Jesse, Hail, Gate of Morn,
The world's true light from Thee was born.
Virgin glorious, ever fairest,
Of all creatures to Him nearest.
Hail to Thee, hallowed in Heaven!
May Thy children's guilt be forgiven.
CARNIVAL
January 6 To Ash Wednesday
Saint Catherine closes the door of the dance hall until the three Holy
Kings throw it wide open again," is a saying in the Catholic countries.
This means that with the feast of St. Catherine (November 25th), the
Church enters the "closed time." In these weeks good Christians are not
allowed to attend public dances and are not supposed to have a big
festive wedding celebration.
There are two such closed times--between November 25th and Christmas, and
again between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday. In former times the weeks
of Advent were called "the little Lent," and the people fasted almost as
carefully as they would in the "big Lent." ("Big" only because it lasted
longer.)
Fasting during the "little Lent" is all but forgotten now, but the
character of this closed time is still very much respected in Catholic
countries.
In order to make up for these two periods of abstinence from dancing and
merry-making, there is sandwiched in between a time that is, on the
contrary, even dedicated to dancing and feasting of any kind. In Austria
these weeks are called "Fashching." In Latin countries they are known by
the name of "Carnevale." The Latin name is usually translated as
"Meat--farewell!" ("Carne--Vale!"). As we know, one main feature of
fasting is usually abstinence from meat.
Here in the United States we have come across the word "Carnival" almost
exclusively in connection with the Mardi Gras celebration in New Orleans,
so that people have the idea that Carnival is celebrated only on the day
before Ash Wednesday ("Mardi Gras," or "Fat Tuesday"). This, however, is
not so. Carnival is a season extending over several weeks. It is not
equally long each year, depending on whether Easter falls earlier or
later; but it always begins January 6th and ends at midnight before Ash
Wednesday.
Nobody could stand a Thanksgiving Day dinner every day of the year. There
can only be mountains if there are also valleys. It is a pity that the
Reformation did away not only with most of the sacraments and all of the
sacramentals, but also, unfortunately, with the very breath of the
Mystical Body--that wonderful, eternal rhythm of high and low tide that
makes up the year of the Church: times of waiting alternate with times of
fulfillment, the lean weeks of Lent with the feasts of Easter and
Pentecost, times of mourning with seasons of rejoicing. Modern man lost
track of this. Deep down in the human heart, however, is imbedded the
craving to celebrate, and, in a dumb way, the other craving to abstain,
perhaps to atone. In general, these cravings are no longer directed in
seasonal channels, as they are for the Catholic, or even for the
aborigine who participates in some tribal religious belief. So modern man
one day--any day--gets up and says, "Let's celebrate!" And without any
warrant, he decrees that his town from now on will have a festival on,
let's say, August 18th; and as he can dance and eat and drink on any day
between January 1st and December 31st, the most he will experience is "a
good time." But he will never be able to "celebrate a feast."
It should be our noble right and duty to bring up our children in such a
way that they become conscious of high tide and low tide, that they learn
that there is "a time to weep, and a time to laugh, a time to mourn, and
a time to dance." The rhythm of nature as it manifests itself in the four
seasons, in day and night, in the individual's heartbeat and
breathing--this rhythm we should learn to recognize, and to treat with
more reverence. Modern man has become used to turning day into night and
night into day according to his whim or pleasure. He has managed to lose
contact completely with himself. He has lost the instinct for the right
food and drink, stuffing himself with huge quantities of the wrong things
and feeding himself sick. But worst of all, and this sounds almost
ridiculous, in the process of growing up he forgot the right kind of
breathing. Only babies nowadays know how to breathe. Every voice teacher
can prove this sad truth.
Again, it is our faithful friend, Holy Mother Church, who leads her
children first back to nature in order to make them ready to receive
supernatural grace. "Gratia supponit naturam."
Looked upon in this light, the weeks of Carnival are a most necessary
time for the individual as well as for families and communities. This
period is set aside for us to "let off steam," "to have a good time." And
for this we need company. Therefore, Carnival is most obviously the
season for parties and family get-togethers, to which the married
children come home as they do for Thanksgiving Day dinner--with the
avowed intention of having that good time together. (Children who grew up
this way and for whom Carnival has become a cherished tradition will
always gladly return once a year for this happy purpose.) Carnival is the
time to be social, to give and to receive invitations for special
parties. It is the time to celebrate as a parish group, perhaps once
every week, maybe on Sunday afternoon. Again, from long experience, I
must say: All these parties must have someone who plans and shapes them
and--very important--terminates them. It is a requirement for a
successful party to know when to stop. "Whoever feasts too long gets
disillusioned," said an old proverb, and "A little less would have been
more" is the verdict on many an unsuccessful social event. Therefore, one
person, or a small committee (small, mind you!), should make the plans:
where to meet and when, for how long, what to eat and drink, and what the
topic of the evening will be.
There seems to be something in human nature that makes us want to dress
up once in a great while, to pretend to be somebody else (and this is
true not only of children). As our family is so large, we were always
self-sustaining when it came to celebrating feasts. The most hilarious
evenings were those when we all came in fancy dress.
It helps greatly if there is a theme to the evening, such as "Whom I
Would Like to Be" or "International Evening" (many nationalities and
people are chosen by lot and have to be represented; and for the first
half hour sign language is obligatory). Or "A Get-Together of Our
Great-Grandchildren in the year 2,000" or "circus" (everyone comes as an
active member, human or animal, of a traveling circus), or...or....
There is no end to good ideas. The main thing is that everyone should
take over a role and play it the whole evening, within the general frame
of the theme. And there is a deeper meaning in all this, too--because
everyone would like to be somebody else once in a while.
It would not be Carnival without dancing. Mankind has danced since before
the time of King David, and always will; for it seems to be an
irreplaceable means of expression--the one way in which the whole person,
body and soul, can enjoy the beauty of rhythm. And now we should ask
ourselves this question, especially if we are young people: What do we
know about the dance and its function in the history of mankind? Have we
ever been privileged to witness a dance festival among the Pueblo
Indians? And I do not mean one arranged for the tourists--I mean one of
their very own feasts, where they dance, as it were, in spite of the
tourists. Whoever has witnessed it will never forget it. On our travels
abroad we often came across the same deep sincerity expressed in the
dance, but always, without I exception, it was far away from the big
cities, in places where the people had kept their traditions, whether in
mountain villages of the Alps, in small towns in the Balkans, in the
plains of Argentina....
In the United States, too, there is a marked revival of interest in
genuine old folk dances. Although America is spoken of as a "new
country," everything American once came from an old country. It would be
most interesting and rewarding if every family would search earnestly for
the folk dances of its own people, its ancestors.
Much research has been done recently, and many good books, many records
are now available. Let us think of the wonderful entertainment at a
parish party if people were asked to contribute a folk dance from the
country where their family came from. Of course, in the national costume!
And this should not be taken lightly. I see no other way to protect our
young people from the frequently pernicious influence of modern ballroom
dancing. There is no use in just talking against it; something better has
to be substituted. Here I speak from experience, as this is what we have
done in our Music Camp in the summer for ten years. I also know from
experience that it is very difficult to learn folk dancing from a printed
description. Everyone should treat himself to a course, of which there
are many new ones starting every year. Simply to get into the spirit, the
atmosphere, into the very idea of folk dancing is something we should not
miss, and then we have to pass on what we have found.
Carnival would be the time of the year to launch out on a program of folk
dancing. Let me add that folk dancing and square dancing are not
identical. Square dancing is only one group of folk dances coming from
the British Isles. Many people think this is all there is to folk
dancing, and since square dances are rather fast and exhausting, they
say, "This is only for kids--I'm too old for that!" But there are dozens
and dozens of quiet, beautiful, sometimes simple, sometimes intricate
dances of the different nations. And let us also consider this: While we
cannot learn dozens of foreign languages, we still can learn to
understand the self-expression of nations in their music and in their
folk dances. So why not make a firm plan for the coming Carnival season?
For instance, to spend three evenings of every week in learning new folk
dances. On Sunday afternoon, there might be a real party, either in the
homes of different families in turn, or in a parish hall.
On other evenings we might have fun at home by learning to play new
games. Do we realize that there are hundreds, literally hundreds, of most
entertaining games? We just do not know them. By inquiring among friends
and by looking up books we should be able to add a few good ones to our
repertoire every year during the weeks of Carnival. This is an
indispensable store to draw from when there are parties to be arranged
for family or other feasts during the rest of the year.
Let us put these weeks of Carnival to use and learn to dance together,
play together, and sing together.
Yes, sing together! But not the superficial, mediocre hits of the juke
boxes, short-lived like the fly; let us rather make it our business to
find gay songs among the good old folk songs. Some of those we have heard
Burl Ives sing; there are also one or the other gay Negro spirituals--let
us endeavor to add at least one good, worthwhile, gay song every week of
Carnival so that we have something to contribute when we meet the others
on Sunday afternoon.
TURKEY IN THE STRAW
Called the most American of all tunes.
1. As I was going down the road,
A tired team an' a heavy load,
I cracked my whip and the leader sprung and says,
day day to the wagon tongue.
--Refrain: Turkey in the straw, turkey in the hay,
Dance all night and work all day,
Roll 'em up and twist 'em up a high tuck-a-haw,
And hit 'em up a tune called Turkey in the Straw.
2. Oh, I went out to milk and I didn't know how;
I milked a goat instead of a cow.
A monkey sittin' on a pile of straw,
A-winkin' his eye at his mother-in-law.--Refrain
3.Turkey in the hay, turkey in the straw,
The old gray mare won't gee nor haw,
Roll 'em up and twist 'em up a high tuck-a-haw
And hit 'em up a tune called Turkey in the Straw.--Refrain
4. Well I met Mister Catfish come down the stream,
Says Mister Catfish what does you mean?
I caught Mister Catfish by the snout.
And I turned Mister Catfish wrong side out.--Refrain
5. As I came down the new cut road,
Met Mister Bullfrog met Miss Toad,
And every time Miss Toad would sing
Ole Bullfrog cut a pigeon wing.--Refrain
THE ECHO YODEL
From the Austrian Alps
Heiti, hoiti, halt's Mau, sei schtu,
i geh hoam, wann i wu.
Heiti, hoiti, halt's Mau, sei schtu,
i geh hoam, wann i wu.
Heiti, hoiti, halt's Mau, sei schtu,
i geh hoam, wann i wu.
Heiti, hoiti, halt's Mau, sei schtad, sei schtu.
THE RIDDLE SONG
Folk song from the Kentucky Mountains. In England known since the 15th
century.
1. I gave my love a cherry that has no stone,
I gave my love a chicken that has no bone,
I gave my love a ring that has no end,
I gave my love a baby with no cryin'.
2. How can there be a cherry that has no stone?
How can there be a chicken that has no bone?
How can there be a ring that has no end?
Ho can there be a baby with no cryin'?
3. A cherry, when it's blooming, it has no stone.
A chicken when it's pipping, it has no bone.
A ring when it's rolling, it has no end.
A baby when it's sleeping, has no cryin'.
AUNT RHODY
"A song that is completely American in origin" (Burl Ives)
1. Go tell Aunt Rhody,
go tell Aunt Rhody,
go tell Aunt Rhody that her old gray goose is dead.
2. The one that she's been a-savin',
the one that she's been a-savin',
the one that she's been a-savin' to make a feather bed.
3. She died in the mill-pond,
she died in the mill-pond,
she died in the mill-pond, standin' on her head.
4. The goslings are cryin',
the goslings are cryin',
the goslings are cryin', 'cause their mammy's dead.
5. Go tell Aunt Rhody,
go tell Aunt Rhody,
go tell Aunt Rhody that her old gray goose is dead.
Spent like this the weeks of Carnival seem to fly. Every day the family
is eagerly looking forward to the evening's program, whether it be
singing or folk dancing or playing games or masquerading.
One more feature of Carnival time is the food and drink, the specialties
of the season. To understand the special character of Carnival
pastry--why it is always fried in deep fat, why it is full of eggs and
milk and meat--we have to go back to the beginning when Lent was really
the time of fast and abstinence, when it was forbidden not only to eat
meat, but also milk and cream and everything made thereof, such as butter
and cheese. The closer Ash Wednesday came, the more housewives tried to
clear the kitchen and pantry of the forbidden goods. As these included
any kind of lard and fat, they were used in these last days to make those
delicious "Faschingskrapfen," a kind of glorified jelly doughnut.
Faschingskrapfen
2 cups milk 1-1/2 cup sugar
1 cake yeast 4 eggs
1/2 cup water 1/4 cup lard
6 cups flour 1 tsp. salt
Scald the milk and allow to cool. Dissolve the yeast in the water, which
should be warm. Add 1/2 cup flour. Mix thoroughly. Add this to the milk
with a little of the sugar. Then add 3 cups flour, sifted. Let rise,
preferably overnight. Beat the eggs well and add the lard and the rest of
the sugar. Mix well. Stir in enough of the remaining flour to make a
stiff dough. Let it rise again. Turn out on a floured pastry board and
roll to 1/4-inch thickness. Cut out and let the doughnuts rise to double
their bulk. Fill them with apricot jam. Then fry in deep fat at 360
degrees three to four minutes, turning as they fry. Drain on absorbent
paper.
The last three days before Ash Wednesday everywhere, not only in Austria,
but also in other countries, pancakes ("Palatschinken" in Austria) were
eaten, obviously merely because eggs and butter and milk had to be
finished off before the fasting began, and pancakes took care of a great
many eggs and much milk and butter! These last days before Ash Wednesday
are the climax of Carnival. In the Catholic countries. where Lent
afterwards would be taken seriously, work was stopped. People made merry
practically day and night. In South America it still seems to be this
way, according to stories we have heard in Rio! The last day of Carnival
is "Mardi Gras" or "Faschingsdienstag" or "Fat Tuesday." This should be a
big celebration, if possible of the whole parish together, or a circle of
friends, and everything which one did during the previous weeks should be
done just once more. "Once more this dance!" "Once more this song!" "Once
more this game!"--until twelve o'clock sharp. When the clock strikes
twelve, in the middle of the dance, according to the good old tradition,
one should stop and the whole group should kneel down and say one "Our
Father" together and then, rising up, say, "I wish you a blessed season
of Lent" and go home.
It has to be experienced to be fully believed, but there is a great
blessing on such a Carnival time, shared in a family. To have spent a
good Carnival will finally prove to the greater honor and glory of God,
in enabling us to spend a good Lent!
EASTER CYCLE
PRE-LENT
Septuagesima To Ash Wednesday
With Septuagesima Sunday begins the cycle that has for its center the
greatest of all solemnities, the feast of Easter. The Christmas cycle and
the Easter cycle are like the water and wine at the Offertory when the
priest prays: "Grant that by the mystery of this water and wine we may be
made partakers of His Divinity, Who vouchsafed to become partaker of our
humanity, Jesus Christ Thy Son, Our Lord." For in the Christmas cycle we
celebrate God having come down among us, clothing Himself with our
humanity. This is the cycle of the Incarnation, corresponding to the
cycle of the Redemption where we are shown this same Jesus Who "makes us
partakers of His Divinity."
These two and a half weeks--the Septuagesima, Sexuagesima, and
Quinquagesima Sundays, and the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday following
Quinquagesima--serve as a time of transition for the soul, which must
pass from Christmas joys (and through the merry time of Carnival) to the
stern penance of the sacred forty days of Lent. The fast is not yet an
obligation, but the color of the vestments is already violet. The Gloria
during Holy Mass is suspended, and the martyrology introduces
Septuagesima Sunday as that Sunday on which "we lay aside the song of the
Lord which is Alleluia." In medieval times they used to "bury the
Alleluia" solemnly in the cathedral and in the abbey churches. This
custom was nearly forgotten, but we came across it again on the happy day
when we were privileged to celebrate Holy Mass in the creative and
inspired parish of our friend, Monsignor Martin Hellriegel. There, in a
solemn procession, the school children carried a wooden tablet on which
was engraved the word "Alleluia" through the main aisle of the church
over to the altar of the Blessed Mother where they put it at her feet and
covered it with a purple cloth. There it would remain until Easter, when,
in a triumphant tone of voice, the priest would intone, for the first
time after forty days, a three-fold Alleluia.
This impressed us so deeply that we wished it could be introduced into
all parish churches, to make the congregation conscious that Alleluia is
the ancient Hebrew chant of triumph with which a victor was hailed after
the battle. It is also the chant St. John heard in heaven, as he tells us
in the Apocalypse. This Alleluia has to be suspended in a time devoted to
fathoming the thought that we are "poor, banished children of Eve,
mourning and weeping in this valley of tears." Only in the Easter
festivities shall we again hail Our Lord, the victor over Satan, Who will
reopen to us the kingdom of heaven.
In these weeks of the pre-Lenten season, the mother of the family has
much to teach her children. She will introduce them to the meaning of the
color of violet in church. She will prepare them for the forty sacred
days of retreat, and will help them to formulate their Lenten
resolutions, which should be written on a sheet of paper and placed on
the house altar. It is important that Lenten resolutions do not use the
negative approach only, such as, "I won't do this" and "I won't do that."
They should start positively, with "I will use these three books" (this
as soon as the child can read); "I will use the time I save by abstaining
from television for this and this...." "I will use the money I save by
not going to the movies for alms given to...."
It is a precious time, a time for the mother to introduce her children to
the three ancient good works--prayer, fasting, and giving of alms--with
which we can atone for our sins. It will take root in young hearts, never
to be forgotten.
ANTIPHON FOR LENT
Fifth (Lydian) mode. Recite the Psalm "Miserere" (Psalm 50), repeating
the Antiphon after every four or five verses of the psalm, and at the end.
Incline Thine ear, O Lord, and show us mercy, for we are sinners before
Thee.
Lent
Lent is primarily known as a time devoted to fast and abstinence. Our
non-Catholic friends feel sorry for us because we have to watch our food.
"Isn't it an awful strain?"
But this is only one side of the season of Lent, and not even the most
important one. First and foremost, these weeks between Ash Wednesday and
Holy Saturday are set aside as a time of preparation for the greatest
feast of the year, Easter.
We are not fasting in commemoration of Our Lord's fast of forty days, but
are imitating Him in his fast of preparation--preparation for His great
work of Redemption. It is the same with us. Once a year we take forty
days out of the three hundred and sixty-five, and we too fast in
preparation: in preparation for the commemoration of our Redemption.
We all should get together and work toward the restoration of the meaning
of Lent. People nowadays see in it just a gloomy time full of "must
nots." That is a great pity, because Lent is a solemn season rich in
hidden mysteries. We must also keep in mind that Lent is only a part of
the great Easter season, that it is for Easter what Advent was for
Christmas, and that Lent taken by itself would make no more sense than
Advent without Christmas at its end. Therefore, we should let Holy Mother
Church take us by the hand and lead us--not each soul alone, but the
whole family as a group--away from the noise of the world into a
forty-day retreat.
No other time of the year has been so singled out by the Church as this,
in that a completely different Mass is provided for every single day,
beginning with Ash Wednesday and continuing through the octave day of
Easter; and again for the crowning feast of the Easter season, the eight
days of Pentecost. If we keep the closed time as faithfully as our
forefathers did--which means keeping away from all noisy outside
entertainment such as cocktail parties and dances--then we shall find
ample time for the imitation of Christ as it is outlined in every
morning's Mass.
The restoration of the season of Lent was begun in the year when the Holy
Father gave back to us the Easter Night. As we now know that in this
holiest of all nights we shall be permitted to be reborn in Christ,
renewing solemnly, with a lighted candle in our hands, our baptismal
vows, we understand more and more clearly the two great thoughts which
the Church is developing throughout the whole of Lent: the instruction of
the catechumens and the deepening of the contrition of the penitents.
Instruction and penance shall become our motto also for these holy weeks.
Instruction--this brings us to the Lenten reading program. The time saved
through abstention from movies--and it is astonishing to find how much it
is!--will be devoted to a carefully chosen reading program. Every year we
should divide our reading into three parts: something for the mind,
something for the heart, something for the soul.
Something for the mind: This should mean doing serious research. One year
we might work on the history of the Church; another year on the
sacraments; or we might carefully study a scholarly life of Our Lord
Jesus Christ; or a book on Christian ethics; or the Encyclicals of the
Pope; or a book on dogma.
For the soul: This should be spiritual reading of a high order, from the
works of the saints or saintly writers. For example, "The Ascent of Mt.
Carmel," by St. John of the Cross; "The Introduction to a Devout Life,"
by St. Francis de Sales; "The Story of a Soul," by St. Therese of
Lisieux; "The Spiritual Castle," by St. Teresa of Avila; "The Soul of the
Apostolate," by Abbot Chautard; the books of Abbot Marmion, and similar
works.
For the heart: According to the old proverb, "Exempla trahunt," it is most
encouraging to read the biographies of people who started out as we did
but had their minds set on following the word of Our Lord, "Be you
therefore perfect, as also your heavenly Father is perfect." In other
words, to read a well-written biography of a saint (canonized or not)
will have the same effect on us as it had once on St. Augustine, who
said, after watching saintly people living a holy life: "If he could do
it, and she, why not I?" But it has to be a well-written biography, that
is, a book showing a human being in the round, with all his shortcomings
that had to be overcome by faithful cooperation with grace--and not the
old-fashioned hagiography in sugar-candy style with its doubtful
statements, carefully stressing that the saint is born a full-fledged
saint by describing how the holy baby refused his mother's breast every
Saturday in honor of the Blessed Mother (and, of course, the first words
of these remarkable beings invariably must be a piously lisped "Jesus and
Mary"). These "saints" never made a mistake, never succumbed to
temptation--in other words, their literary portraits are identical
replicas of their statues in the show windows in Barclay Street and just
as inspiring. But we are lucky the worst seems to be behind us. A new
school of writing of the lives of the saints has begun.
If every member of a family adopts this threefold reading program and
comments on the books he has been working on, a great benefit will be
flowing from one to the other as they exchange the spiritual goods
obtained from their reading. I remember how the enthusiasm of each reader
made us exchange books after Lent was over. Years ago it began with the
books of Henry Gheon first, "The Secret of the Little Flower," followed
by the other secrets of the saints. Another year it was "The History of a
Family," with its background story of the most irresistible saint of our
days, Therese of Lisieux. Recently we all found "St. Teresa of Avila," by
Marcelle Auclair, the best and most readable of all biographies of this
great saint. After we had seen the great film, "Monsieur Vincent," we
were naturally interested in reading Monsignor Jean Calvet's version of
the saint's life, "St. Vincent de Paul."
There is no saying how much such an extensive reading program adds to the
richness of family life, how many new topics are introduced, to be talked
about during the family meals. And one book that should certainly be read
aloud during these days of the great retreat is the Holy Bible. It would
be a good idea to lean, for one year at least, close to the selections
the Church herself makes in the breviary of the priests. In another year
one could take one of the prophets (Isaias during Advent, Jeremias during
Lent), and go on from there until every book of Holy Scriptures has been
read aloud and discussed in the family. In this way we have read through
the books of the Old and New Testaments more than once, and have found
them an unending source of happiness and spiritual growth. Any family
that has tried it will never want to give it up. To set aside the "closed
times" of the year for daily reading aloud is one of the most profitable
uses of the time gained. As many questions will be asked, it will be
necessary to obtain some source in which to find at least some of the
answers. A commentary on the Holy Scriptures should be in every Christian
house.
If the first thought recurring through the liturgy of Lent is
instruction, the second is penance. To understand better what was
originally meant by that word, let us go back to the beginning when the
Church was young and the zeal and fervor unbroken. Father Weiser, in his
"Easter Book," tells us about it:
"Persons who had committed serious public sin and scandal were enjoined
on Ash Wednesday with the practice of "public penance." The period of the
penance lasted until Holy Thursday when they were solemnly reconciled,
absolved from their sins, and allowed to receive Holy Communion....The
imposition of public penance on Ash Wednesday was an official rite in
Rome as early as the fourth century; and soon spread to all Christianized
nations. Numerous descriptions of this ancient ceremony have been
preserved in medieval manuscripts and, in every detail, breathe a spirit
of harshness and humility really frightening to us of the present
generation.
"Public sinners approached their priests shortly before Lent to accuse
themselves of their misdeeds and were presented by the priests on Ash
Wednesday to the bishop of the place. Outside the cathedral, poor and
noble alike stood barefoot, dressed in sackcloth, heads bowed in humble
contrition. The bishop, assisted by his canons, assigned to each one
particular acts of penance according to the nature and gravity of his
crime. Whereupon they entered the church, the bishop leading one of them
by the hand, the others following in single file, holding each other's
hands. Before the altar, not only the penitents, but also the bishop and
all his clergy recited the seven penitential psalms. [Psalms 6, 31, 37,
50, 101, 129, 142.] Then, as each sinner approached, the bishop imposed
his hands on him, sprinkled him with holy water, threw the blessed ashes
on his head, and invested him with the hair shirt. Finally he admonished
("with tears and sighs" as the regulation suggests): "Behold you are cast
out from the sight of holy mother Church because of your sins and crimes,
as Adam the first man was cast out of Paradise because of his
transgression." After this ceremony the penitents were led out of the
church and forbidden to re-enter until Holy Thursday (for the solemn rite
of their reconciliation). Meanwhile they would spend Lent apart from
their families in a monastery or some other place of voluntary
confinement, where they occupied themselves with prayer, manual labor,
and works of charity. Among other things they had to go barefoot all
through Lent, were forbidden to converse with others, were made to sleep
on the ground or on a bedding of straw, and were unable to bathe or cut
their hair.
"Such was the public penance (in addition to the general Lenten fast) for
"ordinary" cases of great sin and scandal....For especially shocking and
heinous crimes a much longer term was imposed. An ancient manuscript
records the case of an English nobleman of the eleventh century who
received a penance of seven years for notorious crimes and scandals
committed. The duties of his first year of public penance consisted of
the following details: he must not bear arms (a bitter humiliation for a
nobleman of that time!); he must not receive Holy Communion except in
danger of death; he must not enter the church to attend Mass but remain
standing outside the church door; he must eat very sparingly, taking meat
only on Sundays and major feasts; on three days of the week he must
abstain from wine; he must feed one poor person every day from what he
would have spent on himself. The document closes with the words: `If,
however, thou shalt have borne this penance willingly for one year, in
the future, with God's grace, thou shalt be judged more leniently.'"
(Francis X. Weiser, "The Easter Book," pp. 46f. New York, Harcourt, Brace
& Co., 1954)
And Father Weiser adds a helpful remark. "These examples will make clear,
perhaps, what an indulgence granted by the Church means in our time. An
indulgence of seven years is the remission of temporal punishment for
sins already forgiven to the extent of a seven years' personal penance
such as just described."
After having seen what penance meant to our fathers in the faith, it will
be interesting to see how much of it is still alive in our times.
The first day of Lent is Ash Wednesday. As we are summoned into church we
find the program all laid out for us. Following the example of the people
of Nineveh, who did penance in sackcloth and ashes, the Church wants
today to humble our pride by reminding us of our death sentence as a
consequence of our sins. She sprinkles our head with ashes and says:
"Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust shalt thou return." The
ashes used have been made from burning the palm from the previous Palm
Sunday. These ashes belong to the very powerful sacramentals (such as
Epiphany water or candles from Candlemas Day). The four prayers preceding
the blessing of the ashes are so beautiful and so rich in meaning that
they should be read aloud and discussed in the family circle on Ash
Wednesday night.
In our time, when "how to" books are so popular, the Gospel seems most
appropriate to instruct us on how to fast: "At that time Jesus said to
His disciples, `When you fast, be ye not as hypocrites, sad, for they
disfigure their faces that they may appear unto men to fast. Amen, I say
to you, they have received their reward, but thou, when thou fastest,
anoint thy head and wash thy face that thou appear not to men to fast but
to thy Father Who sees in secret, and thy Father, Who sees in secret,
will repay thee.'" It is interesting to remind ourselves that fast and
abstinence are such ancient practices that they are much older than the
Catholic Church, as are ashes and haircloth as means of penance. The
pages of the Old Testament are filled with references to sackcloth and
ashes (Jonas 3 :5-8; Jeremias 6:26; 25:34; Judith 9:1).
The ancient notions about fast and abstinence compare to our modern
Lenten regulations as a Roman chariot compares to a modern sports car.
Let us, first of all, straighten out what is fasting and what is
abstinence. The first has to do with the quantity of food that can be
taken, and the latter refers to the kind of food. In ancient times
fasting really was fasting. The first meal was taken after vespers, and
vespers were sung at sundown as evening prayer of the Church. Abstinence
in the old times (and the old times reached almost to the days of our
grandparents) meant that nothing was eaten (or kept in the house) which
comes from animals: no meat, no fish, no lard, no milk, butter, cheese,
cream. The Lenten fare consisted exclusively of vegetables, fruit, and a
bread made of flour and water and salt. For our generation the law of
abstinence means that all meat of warm-blooded animals and of birds and
fowl and the soup made thereof is forbidden. It leaves free the wonderful
world of seafood and the meat of other cold-blooded animals such as
frogs, turtles, snails, etc.
The fast means that we are allowed one full meal every day and two other
meals which, if put together, do not exceed in quantity the full meal.
When I inquired once why the law of fast and abstinence is so much more
lenient for us than it was for previous generations, I was told that
modern man is much too frail to undergo the awful rigors of the ancient
practice. After all, have we not experienced two world wars in our
generation which have weakened our constitutions? That seemed to make
perfect sense to me until just recently. I got infected by a neighbor of
ours in Stowe with the popular preoccupation of which is the best diet.
Together we searched through a library of books, one more interesting
than the other, the sum total of all them most confusing and astounding,
however. Among other things I learned that almost all the ancient and
modern sages of the science of "how to live longer and look younger"
(they all boast of a tradition going back into the gray dawn of time with
the yogis of India) agree on several points: (1) We are all
over-eating--we should eat much less. (2) We are all eating too much
meat, which sours our system, and we absolutely have to abstain from meat
for longer or shorter periods every year. (3) If we could adapt ourselves
to a diet of raw vegetables and fruit and whole-wheat bread, that would
be the ideal. (4) And now I could hardly believe my eyes when I read, not
once, but in several places, that it would do simply miracles for our
constitution if we only would let ourselves be persuaded to undergo a
period of complete fast. (One authority suggests three days, others a
week, ten days, up to thirty, forty, and even sixty days!)
I cannot help but think sadly: Woe if the Church ever had dared to make
such a law or even give only a slight hint in the direction of undergoing
a complete fast--for the love of God! Obviously, modern man, after all,
is not too frail to undergo the awful rigors of ancient fast and
abstinence. The constitution of man seems not to have changed at all,
then. What has changed are the motives. While the early Christians
abstained from food and drink and meat and eggs out of a great sense of
sorrow for their sins, and for love of God took upon themselves these
inconveniences, modern man has as motive the "body beautiful," the
"girlish figure," the "how to look younger and live longer" motive. These
selfish motives are strong enough to convince him that fasting is good
for him--in fact, it is fun.
We ought to be grateful to these modern apostles, whether from India,
Switzerland, Sweden, or Wisconsin, because their teaching shows that Holy
Mother Church is equally interested in the spiritual welfare of her
children and in their physical health. It also should make us better
Christians. It should be absolutely unbearable to us to think that there
are thousands of people around us who pride themselves on rigorous feats
of fast and abstinence for motives as flimsy as good looks, while we
cannot bring ourselves to give up a bare minimum. And so it might not be
a bad idea after all, in fact a very modern one, to go back to the
practice of former days and clear our house during the last day of
Carnival of every trace of meat and butter and eggs, fish and lard and
bouillon cubes, and spend six wholesome weeks in complete harmony with
the health-food store around the corner: eating fresh fruit salads,
drinking carrot juice, reveling in the exceeding richness of the vitamins
we find in raw celery, fresh spinach, and pumpernickel. I have repeatedly
read now that there is absolutely nothing to it to undergo a complete
fast. One can even continue one's occupation, and afterwards (the
afterwards can be after thirty days, I was assured) one feels newly born
and twenty years younger. All right, if this is so, let us not be so soft
any more. What can be done "To feel twenty years younger" must be
possible for our own reason: "that our fasts may be pleasing to Thee, O
Lord, and a powerful remedy." (Post Communion, Ash Wednesday).
Today we do eat too much--we eat too may things at one meal; we eat much
too much meat; we consume an unhealthy amount of strong liquor and too
much coffee and tea, which are bad for our nerves; and (this is perhaps
our deepest conviction) the bread we can buy in stores is not the daily
bread we pray for in the "Our Father," but something on the line of soft,
tender sponger rubber, white sponge rubber. It has made us return to the
dark rye bread, the home-made rye bread we used to have in Austria. All
our guests rave about it, and so we want to share our recipe with others.
Dark Rye Bread
4 cups medium rye flour 1/2 tsp. caraway seed
2 cups regular white flour 1 cake yeast, or 1 package dry
1 tbsp. salt yeast
4 cups warm water
Dissolve yeast in 1 cups warm water until it starts to rise and make
bubbles. Pour this on the flour. Add three more cups of warm water to the
flour and stir until fluid is all soaked up. Then knead (with your own
hands) until it is a firm, fairly stiff dough. Put in warm place to rise,
covering it with a cloth. After two hours or more (depending on
temperature of the room), the dough should rise to twice the size. Punch
it down and knead for about 10 minutes again. Cover it up and let it rise
again until not quite double the size. It will rise in a short while (1/2
hour to 3/4 hour). Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Then put dough upside down
on a flour-sprinkled cookie sheet. Make holes in the dough with a
knitting needle (or something similar) while in the hot stove. Leave
there for an hour, then "wash" the bread: take it half way out and brush
it freely with water. Push back into oven for another quarter hour,
turning heat down to 300 degrees F. Then take it out. Makes 1 loaf.
And here we should not forget that the pretzel, which is now quite
popular at our parties, goes back to the early times when only bread made
of flour and water, with a little salt, was allowed during Lent. In order
to make it a little more appealing, it was first shaped in the form of a
ring and a cross in memory of the Cross of Our Lord, and later it took on
the present-day shape of two arms crossed in prayer. It is said to have
been used in the monastery schools of the medieval abbeys as a prize for
the pupils and that the name comes from the Latin word "pretiolum". In
Austria, southern Germany, and Poland, on St. Joseph's Day, March 19th, a
man would go around and sell pretzels on the streets and the people would
eat them for lunch, together with a "Josephi beer," a special dark, very
malted beer.
In the middle of Lent comes the Sunday Laetare, also called "Rose
Sunday." It is as if Holy Mother Church wants to give us a break by
interrupting the solemn chant of mourning, the unaccompanied cadences and
the use of the violet vestments, bursting out suddenly in the word
"Laetare" ("Rejoice"), allowing her priests to vest in rose-colored
garments, to have flowers on the altar and an organ accompaniment for
chant. It is also called "Rose Sunday" because on that day the Pope in
Rome blesses a golden rose, an ornament made of gold and precious stones.
The Holy Father prays that the Church may bring forth the fruit of good
works and "the perfume of the ointment of the flowers from the root of
Jesse." Then he sends the golden rose to some church or city in the world
or to a person who has been of great service to the Church.
Only recently I discovered that this Sunday used to be known as
"Mothering Sunday." This seems to go back to an ancient custom. People in
every city would visit the cathedral, or mother church, inspired by a
reference in the Epistle read on the Fourth Sunday of Lent: "That
Jerusalem which is above, is free, which is our Mother."
And there grew up, first in England, from where it spread over the
continent, the idea that children who did not live at home visited their
mothers that day and brought them a gift. This is, in fact, the precursor
of our Mother's Day. Expecting their visiting children, the mothers are
said to have baked a special cake in which they used equal amounts of
sugar and flour (two cups of each); from this came the name "Simmel
Cake," derived from the Latin word "similis", meaning "like" or "same."
Here is the recipe:
Simmel Cake
3/4 cup butter 1/3 cup shredded lemon &
2 cups sugar orange peel
2 cups flour 1 cup currants
4 eggs almond paste
1/2 tsp. salt.
Cream the butter and sugar until smooth. Add the eggs one at a time,
beating after each addition. Sift the flour and salt and add to the first
mixture. Dust the peel and currants with a little flour and add to the
batter. Line cake tin with waxed paper and pour in half the dough. Add a
layer of almond paste and remaining dough. Bake at 300 degrees F. for one
hour. Ice with a thin white icing, flavored with a few drops of almond
extract.
And every evening in Lent, we sing a Lenten hymn--two of our favorite
ones are given here.
O HEAD ALL SCARRED AND BLEEDING
Original melody by Hans Lee Hassler, 1601. Used in this form by J.S. Bach
in the "St. Matthew Passion." Translation, Henry S. Drinker.
1. O Head all scarred and bleeding,
And heaped with cruel scorn!
O Head so filled with sorrow,
And bound with crown of thorn!
O Head that was so honored,
So lovely fair to see,
And now so low degraded!
My heart goes out to Thee.
2. Thou countenance so noble,
Yet now so pale and wan,
Which all the world should honor,
Now foully spat upon.
No more Thine eyes are shining,
That once did shine so bright,
Ill-usage and maligning,
Affliction, shame and spite.
OPEN, O HARD AND SINFUL HEART!
Test, Angelus Silesius, 1637; melody, 1638.
1. Open, oh hard and sinful heart,
God will return to heed you.
Think of His pain and bitter part,
Let not more guilt impede you.
He who to penance is inspired,
Shall then in truth be living.
The sinner's death God ne'er desired,
His mercy is forgiving.
2. Open your eyes, believe, be wise,
With God there's no pretending.
Your sorry soul in danger lies
Of death and pains unending.
Come back, come back, O wayward one,
Shake off the sins that bind you.
Surely God's own almighty Throne
Plentiful grace will find you.
3. Open your heart, your God behold,
With outstretched hands so tender,
On the dread cross in grief untold
His life for you surrender.
A trembling rends the hardest stone,
Sun, moon and stars are darkened.
Are you unsoftened, you alone,
Have you to Him not harkened?
PASSIONTIDE
Passion Sunday To Holy Saturday
The liturgy follows Christ's early life step by step. At Christmas season
we learn of the birth in the stable, the adoration of the shepherds, the
slaughter of the innocents, the flight into Egypt, the adoration of the
Magi, and finally the return from Egypt. Then we meet Our Lord again at
His baptism, we accompany Him into the desert on his fast, and we go with
Him for the first and second years of His public life, we listen to His
parables, we admire His miracles, and we unite our hearts with Him in His
life of toil and missionary love for us.
Now four weeks of instruction have passed. We have followed Our Lord in
His apostolic ministry and we have reached the moment when, together with
Holy Mother Church, we shall contemplate the sorrowful happenings of the
last year (during Passion Week) and the last week (during Holy Week) of
His life on earth. We can feel the hatred of Christ's enemies growing day
by day. On Good Friday we shall witness once more the most frightening of
all happenings, foretold by the prophets and even by Our Lord Himself,
the bloody drama of Calvary.
The purpose of Passiontide is to call to our memory the persecutions of
which Our Lord was the object during His public life and especially
toward the end. If Septuagesima season acts as a remote preparation for
Easter, and Lent the proximate one, the last two weeks of Passiontide are
the immediate preparation.
PASSION SUNDAY
When the children were still very small, I said to them on the way to
church on a Passion Sunday morning, "Now watch and tell me what is
different today in church!" On the way home they said eagerly that the
statues and crosses on the altars were covered with violet cloth.
"And why don't we do it at home, Mother? Shouldn't we cover the crucifix
and statues in the living room and in our bedrooms, too?"
As I had no good reason to offer against it, we bought a few yards of
violet cloth the next day and did at home what we had seen in church. In
the following years we were ready for the covering ceremony on Saturday
before Passion Sunday.
The older ones among the children also had noticed that the prayers at
the foot of the altar were much shorter and that there was no "Gloria
Patri" after the Introit and the Lavabo. To let the children watch for
such changes in the liturgy makes them much more eager than if they are
told everything in advance. Promptly, when we came in our evening prayers
to the "Gloria Patri," a warning, hissing "Sssh" from the children's side
made us aware that "Gloria Patri," even if only in family prayers, should
be omitted for these holy days of mourning.
I am sure it would be the case in every family, as it was in ours, that
the children are the ones who most eagerly want to carry into the home as
much of holy liturgy as they possibly can. For instance, when I answered
their question as to how the ashes are obtained which are to be blessed
on Ash Wednesday, telling them that the blessed palms from the previous
Palm Sunday are burned, they asked a most logical question "But, Mother,
if you burn a blessed object, aren't the ashes already blessed? And if
so, shouldn't we burn all the blessed palms around the place too and
sprinkle the ashes over the garden?" And so we did! After we had
established this as a firm family custom, I read that this is done in
many places in the Austrian Alps, only there the people strew the ashes
not over the garden but over the fields.
PALM SUNDAY
Then comes the week which is called in the missal "Hebdomada Major"--our
"Holy Week" in which we accompany Our Lord day by day through the last
week of His life, as it is told in the Gospels. First we join Him in His
triumphant entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.
As soon as the Church had been freed by the Emperor Constantine in the
fourth century, the Christians began to celebrate Palm Sunday in a very
dramatic way in Jerusalem. On the very spot where it had happened, the
holy texts were read: "Rejoice, daughter of Sion, behold Thy King will
come to thee...." The crowd spread their garments on the ground, crying
aloud, "Blessed be the King Who cometh in the Name of the Lord." The
bishop, mounted on an ass, would ride up to the church on the Mount of
Olives, surrounded by a multitude carrying palms and singing hymns and
joyful anthems.
From Jerusalem this re-enactment of Christ's solemn entry into His holy
city came to Rome, where the Church soon adopted the same practice. The
ceremony, however, was preceded by the solemn reading of the passage from
Holy Scriptures relating the flight from Egypt, thus reminding Christ's
people that Christ, the new Moses, in giving them the real manna, is
delivering them out of the Egypt of sin and nourishing them in the
Eucharist.
Around the ninth century the Church added a new rite. The palms, which
the people would hold in their hands when they accompanied their bishop,
were solemnly blessed. We have already witnessed several of these
specially solemn blessings, on Epiphany, on Candlemas Day, on Ash
Wednesday. Again these texts are so rich in beautiful thoughts for
meditation that families should read them together--not only read them,
but read them prayerfully.
From Rome the idea to re-enact Our Lord's triumphal entry into Jerusalem
spread all over the Christian world. In medieval times the faithful and
the clergy met at a chapel or a wayside shrine outside of town where the
palms were blessed, and from there moved in a solemn procession to the
cathedral. Our Lord was represented either by the bishop riding on an ass
or, in some places, by the Blessed Sacrament carried by the king or, in
other places, by a crucifix carried ahead. In some Austrian villages the
figure of Christ sitting on an ass, carved in wood, is carried.
The Christian people had an unerring instinct for the efficacy of those
solemnly blessed sacramentals, and just as they carried home Epiphany
water and holy candles, they also would bring home with them blessed
palms. In the old country this was quite an elaborate function of "the
liturgy in the home." As we did not have real palms growing in Austria,
we used evergreens and pussy willows, which at that time were the first
children of spring. Like all other Austrian families living in the
country, we made as many little bouquets as there were divisions on our
grounds--one for the vegetable garden, one for the orchard, one for the
flower garden, one for each pasture, and one for each field. Each of
these little bouquets was fastened to a stick about three feet high.
Besides, there were many single twigs of pussy willow which would be
placed behind pictures all around the house. These bouquets were gaily
adorned with colored ribbons or dyed shavings from the carpenter shop.
The children carried them into the church and vied with each other,
during the blessing, as to who held his stick highest to get most of the
holy water sprinkled on it. Then bouquets were carried in a liturgical
procession and afterwards were brought home. In the afternoon the whole
family would follow the father throughout the house and all over the
grounds and he would place in the middle of every lot one of those sticks
carrying the blessed bouquets as a means of protecting his property
against the influence of evil spirits, against the damage of hail storms
and floods. While the family would proceed from lot to lot, they would
say the rosary. We would alternate between decades of the rosary and the
chants of the day, "Pueri Hebraeorum" and "Gloria, laus et honor." On
Easter Sunday the family would revisit these sticks, bringing along
little bottles filled with Easter water (holy water blessed solemnly on
Easter morning). These little bottles would be tied to sticks, thus
adding another sacramental.
HOLY WEEK
According to an old tradition, the first three days of Holy Week--
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday--are dedicated to spring cleaning. In the days
before the invention of the vacuum cleaner, this was a spectacular
undertaking: sofas, easy chairs, and all mattresses would be carried out
of the house and beaten mercilessly with a "Teppichpracker"
(carpet-beater). Walls were dusted, curtains were changed--a thorough
domestic upheaval. There is little time for cooking, and meals are made
of leftovers.
By Wednesday night the house looks spick and span. And now the great
"Feierabend" begins. "Feierabend" is an untranslatable word. It really
means vigil--evening before a feast, the evening before Sunday, when work
ceases earlier than on any other weekday in order to allow time to get
into the mood to celebrate. "Feier" means "to celebrate," "Abend" means
"evening." From now on until the Tuesday after Easter no unnecessary work
will be done on our place. These days are set aside for Our Lord. On
Wednesday, with all the satisfaction of having set our house at peace,
and after the dishes of a simple early supper are finished, we go down to
the village church in Stowe for the first Tenebrae service. In the
sanctuary, a large wrought-iron triangular candlestick is put up, with
fifteen dark candles. We take our places in the choir, and the solemn
chanting of matins and lauds begins. This is the first part of the Divine
Office, which has been recited daily around the world by all priests and
many religious since the early times of the Church. In the cathedrals and
many monasteries it is chanted in common. For the last days of Holy Week,
it is performed in public, so to speak--not only in cathedral churches,
but in any church, so that the faithful may take part in it.
We always consider this the greatest honor for us, the singing family,
the greatest reward for all the trouble that goes along with life in
public, that we can sing for all the Divine Offices in church.
Matins has three nocturnes, each one consisting of three psalms with
their antiphons and three lessons. The first nocturne is always the most
solemn one. We sing all the psalms on their respective "tonus". We sing
the antiphons, some in Gregorian chant, some from the compositions of the
old masters such as Palestrina, Lassus, Vittorio.
The lessons were sung last year by Father Wasner, Werner, and Johannes.
In the second and third nocturne we only recite the psalms in "recto
tono" in order not to make it too long. Some of the antiphons and all of
the lessons, however, are sung. After each psalm the altar boy
extinguishes a candle, reminding us of how one Apostle after the other
left Our Lord. Matins is followed by lauds, consisting of five psalms and
antiphons which we recite. At the end of lauds there is only one candle
left--the symbol of Our Lord all by Himself crying out, "Where are you, O
My people!" And we, in the name of all the people, recite now the
"Miserere," the famous penitential psalm, while the altar boy is carrying
the last candle behind the altar and the church is now in complete
darkness. At the end of the "Miserere" we all make a banging noise with
the breviary books. This custom is quite ancient. It is supposed to
indicate the earthquake at the moment of the Resurrection. After this
noise, the altar boy emerges from behind the altar with the burning
Christ-candle and puts it back on the candlestick. This is a ray of hope
anticipating the glorious Easter night. (In Austria the Tenebrae service
is called "Pumpernette," or "noisy matins.")
The congregation is following closely with booklets in which the whole
service, which we sing in Latin, is given in English. This is the most
moving evening service of the whole year. When we sing "Tenebrae factae
sunt," an awesome silence falls upon the whole church, and when we sing
the famous "Improperia `Popule meus'" by Palestrina we all are moved to
the depths. Is there anything more heartrending than to listen to the
outcry of the anxious Redeemer: "My people, what have I done to thee, or
in what have I grieved thee, answer Me. What more ought I to do for thee
that I have not done?"
On the morning of Holy Thursday, the Church in her service tries most
movingly to combine the celebration of the two great events she wants to
commemorate "Who lives in memory of Him," Our Lord had said on the first
Holy Thursday when He gave Himself to us in the Holy Eucharist; and,
"Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me. Nevertheless
not as I will, but as thou wilt." This cry He uttered only a few hours
later. Therefore, as the Solemn Mass begins, the festive strains of the
organ accompany the chant of the Introit and Kyrie, and when the priest
intones the Gloria, all the bells on the steeple, as well as in the
church, ring together once more for the last time because, right
afterwards, Holy Church, as the Bride of Christ, goes into mourning as
she accompanies the Bridegroom through His hours of unspeakable
suffering. The organ remains silent when she reminds the faithful in the
Gradual: "Christ became obedient unto us to death, even unto the death of
the Cross...."
The Gospel of this day tells of the lesson Jesus gave us in brotherly
love and humility as He first washed the feet of His disciples,
afterwards saying: "Know you what I have done to you? You call me Master,
and Lord; and you say well, for so I am. If then I being your Lord and
Master, have washed your feet; you also ought to wash one another's feet.
For I have given you an example, that as I have done to you, so you do
also." Therefore, in all cathedrals and abbey churches the bishops and
abbots go down on their knees on this day after Holy Mass and wash the
feet of the twelve oldest members of their communities. It is wonderful
that in our days more and more parishes are adopting this beautiful
custom, which brings home to us better than the most eloquent sermon that
we should remember this word of Our Lord "For I have given you an
example, that as I have done to you, so you do also," which should become
increasingly the watchword in our daily life. This is what the Church
wants us to take home with us on that day the attitude of washing one
another's feet; and, because we Catholics have not awakened to this fact,
we are rightly to be blamed for all wrong and injustice and wars going on
in the world!
As Good Friday has no Mass of its own, but only the "Mass of the
Pre-Sanctified," an extra big host was consecrated by the priest during
Mass on Holy Thursday, which is put into a chalice and covered up with a
white cloth. This chalice is now incensed immediately after Mass and
carried in solemn procession to the "Altar of Repose," while the "Pange
Lingua" is chanted solemnly. This repository should remind us of the
prison in which Our Lord was kept that terrible night from Thursday to
Friday. Unlike that first night, where He was all alone after all the
Apostles had fled, the faithful now take turns in keeping watch.
There is an old legend circulating in the old country, still fervently
believed by the children, that all the bells fly to Rome on Holy
Thursday, where the Holy Father blesses them; they return in time for the
Gloria on Holy Saturday.
Another custom still alive in the villages throughout Austria is this: As
the bell cannot be rung for the Angelus on these three days, the altar
boys man their outdoor "Ratschen" (a kind of rattle looking like a toy
wheelbarrow, whose one wheel grinds out deafening noise) and race through
the streets, stopping at certain previously designated corners, lifting
up their "Ratschen" and chanting in chorus:
Wir ratschen, ratschen zum englischen Gruss,
Den jeder katholische Christ beten muss.
(We remind you by this noise of the Angelus,
Of a prayer to be said by every faithful Christian.)
Needless to say, many a little boy's heart waits eagerly for these three
holy days. While he might be too young to understand the great thoughts
of Holy Week, he certainly is wide awake to his own responsibility of
reminding his fellow-men, "Time to pray!"
My son Werner is living with his family just a little way down the road.
When his little boys, Martin and Bernhard, are big enough to shoulder the
responsibility, their father will make them such an old-world "Ratschen"
and their mother will teach them the rhyme going with it.
In the house also, the bells have to be silent. The bell rung for the
meals or for family devotions is replaced by a hand clapper worked by the
youngest member of the family, who announces solemnly from door to door
that lunch is ready.
Holy Thursday has a menu all its own. For the noon meal we have the
traditional spring herb soup (Siebenkraeutersuppe).
Spring Herb Soup
Dandelions
Chervil
Cress
Sorrel
Leaf nettle
The mixture of the above herbs should total about 7 ounces. Whether
bought at the market or picked, they should be washed well. Steam in
butter with finely chopped onions and parsley. Press through a sieve into
a flour soup and let it boil. You may put in one or two egg yolks, one to
two tablespoons of cream, or 1/4 cup milk. You also may use sour cream.
Afterwards there is the traditional spinach with fried eggs. In Austria,
Holy Thursday is called "Gruendonnerstag" (Green Thursday). Many people
think that the word "gruen" stands for the color, but this is not so. It
derives from the ancient German word "greinen," meaning "to cry or moan."
Nevertheless, "Gruendonnerstag" will have its green lunch.
The evening of Holy Thursday finds us in our Sunday best around the
dining-room table. Standing, we listen to the Gospel describing the
happenings in the Upper Room. On the table is a bowl with "bitter herbs"
(parsley, chives, and celery greens), another bowl with a sauce the
Orthodox Jews use when celebrating their Pasch, and plates with
unleavened bread (matzos can be obtained from any Jewish delicatessen
store, but can also be made at home).
Unleavened Bread
1-1/2 cups flour 1 egg, slightly beaten
1/4 tsp. salt 1/2 cup butter
1/3 cup warm water
Mix salt, flour, and egg (and butter). Add the water, mix dough quickly
with a knife, then knead on board, stretching it up and down to make it
elastic until it leaves the board clean. Toss on a small, well-floured
board. Cover with a hot bowl and keep warm 1/2 hour or longer. Then cut
into squares of desired size and bake in 350-degree oven until done.
Then comes the feast-day meal of a yearling lamb roasted, eaten with
these bitter herbs and the traditional sauce. Each time we dip the herbs
in the sauce, we remember Our Lord answering sadly the question of the
Apostles as to who was the traitor: "He that dippeth his hand with me in
the dish, he shall betray me." Afterwards the table is cleared and in
front of Father Wasner's place is put a tray filled with wine glasses and
a silver plate with unleavened bread. While breaking up portions of
bread, he blesses the bread and wine individually and hands it to each
one around the table and we drink and eat, remembering Our Lord, Who must
have celebrated such a "love feast" many times with His Apostles. This
was the custom in His days; just as we in our time will give a party on
the occasion of the departure of a member of the family or a good friend,
the people in the time of Christ used to clear the table after a good
meal and bring some special wine and bread, and in the "breaking of the
bread" they would signify their love for the departing one. The first
Christians took over this custom, and after having celebrated the
Eucharist together, they would assemble in a home for an "agape," the
Greek word for "love feast." To share bread and wine together in this
fashion therefore, was not in itself startling to the Apostles, but the
occasion was memorable on this first Holy Thursday because it was Our
Lord's own great farewell.
As we thus celebrate the breaking of the bread around our table at home,
we keep thinking of the words He had said immediately before: "A new
commandment I give unto you: That you love one another, as I have loved
you...."
Every Holy Thursday night spent like this knits a family closer together,
"careful to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, one body
and one Spirit...one Lord, one faith..." as St. Paul wrote to the
Ephesians.
On Good Friday Holy Mother Church gives her children a beautiful
opportunity for a profession of faith: the adoration of the cross. Behind
the priests and altar boys follows the whole congregation. We remove our
shoes when we go to adore the cross. Three times we prostrate ourselves
as we come closer, until we finally bend over and kiss the feet of the
crucified. As we, the church choir, follow right behind the priest, we
sing during the rest of the adoration. Our songs are the heartrendingly
moving "Crux fidelis" by King John of Portugal, and Eberlin's "Tenebrae
factae sunt," of such haunting beauty.
When the adoration of the cross is finished, the candles on the altar are
lighted, the cross is most reverently taken up from the floor and placed
on the altar, and a procession forms to get the Blessed Sacrament from
the "Altar of Repose." During this procession the hymn "Vexilla Regis" is
sung. And then follows a ceremony that is not a real Mass, although it is
called the "Mass of the Pre-Sanctified." The priest consumes the Host
that was consecrated the day before. On the anniversary of Our Lord's
death--the bloody sacrifice--the Church does not celebrate the symbol of
the unbloody sacrifice. After the official service is finished, the altar
is stripped again. The tabernacle is left open, no vigil light burns in
the sanctuary. But in front of the empty tabernacle lies the crucifix on
the steps of the altar, and the people come all during the day for
adoration.
In Austria another custom was added. At the end of the official service
the priest would carry the Blessed Sacrament in a monstrance, covered
with a transparent veil, and expose it on the side altar, where a replica
of the Holy Sepulchre had been set up with more or less historical
accuracy, with more or less taste, but always with the best of will. Like
the creche around Christmas time, so the Holy Sepulchre on Good Friday
would be an object of pride for every parish, one parish trying to outdo
the other. The people in Salzburg used to go around at Christmas time and
in Holy Week to visit the Christ Child's crib and the Holy Sepulchre in
all thirty-five churches of the town, comparing and criticizing. There
would be literally hundreds of vigil lights surrounding the Body of
Christ in the tomb of rock, which was almost hidden beneath masses of
flowers. There would be a guard of honor, not only of the soldiers, but
also of firemen in uniform and of war veterans with picturesque plumed
hats. I still remember the atmosphere of holy awe stealing over my little
heart when as a child I would make the rounds of churches. There in the
Holy Sepulchre He would rest now, watched over by His faithful until Holy
Saturday afternoon.
Here in America we have found another lovely custom: people going from
church to church not on Good Friday but on Holy Thursday. On that day,
the churches are decorated with a profusion of flowers, as a sign of love
and gratitude for the Holy Eucharist. The contrast with the bare churches
the day after, on Good Friday, is all the more striking and gives a
tremendous feeling of desolation.
Good Friday is a very quiet day with us. There is little to do in the
kitchen, since fasting is observed rigorously on this day. We have no
breakfast, and all that is served for lunch, on a bare table without
tablecloth, is one pot of thick soup, "Einbrennsuppe," which everyone
eats standing up in silence. There is little noise around the house.
Talking is restricted to the bare essentials, as it would be if a dearly
beloved were lying dead in the house. As we are so privileged as to have
a chapel in our house, we use the day when the holy house of God is empty
and desolate to clean and polish all the sacred vessels and chalices and
the ciborium, the monstrance, candlesticks, and censer.
The vigil light before the picture of the Blessed Mother in the living
room is also extinguished, because on Good Friday Christ, the Light of
the World, is dead.
From twelve until three, the hours of Our Lord's agony on the cross, all
activity stops. We sit together in the empty chapel before the cross and
spend these hours in prayer, meditation, and spiritual reading. From time
to time we rise and sing one or the other of the beautiful Lenten hymns
and motets.
On Holy Saturday, a new stir of activity starts in the kitchen. Eggs are
boiled in different pots containing various dyes--blue, green, purple,
yellow, and red. Every member of the household who wants to participate
in this art takes some eggs to his or her room, after they have dried, to
work on them in secret. One takes some muriatic acid with which she
etches the most intriguing patterns out of the colored foundation. It is
quite popular in our house to etch the first line of Easter
songs--staves, notes, and words.
Our cleverest artist sits with paint and brush, and under her fingers
appear pictures of an Easter lamb, or of Our Risen Saviour Himself, or of
the Blessed Mother, or of the different patron saints of the family.
Sometimes they turn out to be little gems.
Others fasten dried ferns or little maple leaves or other herbs around
the eggs before they are boiled in dye. When these leaves are finally
taken off, the shape of the flowers and herbs remains white, while the
rest of the egg is colored. This is easily done and looks very pretty.
These eggs first appear on trays and in bowls on Easter Sunday morning at
the foot of the altar for the solemn blessing of the food. Afterwards
they will be distributed at the solemn Easter breakfast.
PASCHALTIDE
Easter Night To Saturday After Pentecost
EASTERNIGHT
We cannot be grateful enough that the Holy Father, Pius XII, has given
back to us the ancient Easter Night! Even as children we felt that
something was not quite as it should be when the Church broke out early
in the morning of Holy Saturday in the threefold Alleluia, while the
Gospel told us that Our Lord was resting in the grave to rise on Easter
Sunday morning. Now the word of the Holy Father has put things straight
and Holy Saturday has regained its ancient character. Apart from the one
choir rehearsal for Easter, it is quiet around our house, everybody
busying himself with preparations for Easter inside and outside. Some are
getting flowers and candles ready to be put into the chapel upon our
return from the parish church after midnight. Others are working out a
new scheme of decorating the dining room for the greatest family meal of
the year--the Easter breakfast. Practically everybody is preparing some
special Easter eggs for someone else. In the late afternoon it is time
for Confession, and after supper we sit together with the booklets
containing the rites of Easter Night, reading and discussing the
beautiful texts of this most holy liturgy. An air of expectancy is
descending over the house and family which can only compare to Christmas
Eve.
With the exception of one person who has to stay behind to guard the
house, everybody piles into the cars to be down in Stowe a little before
eleven. Invariably a voice out of the group will remind us: "Don't let's
forget the lantern and the bottle for the Easter water."
Many of the traditions and customs, as I have related them so far, are
centuries old, handed down from father to son. In the celebration of the
Easter Night, however, we are experiencing the making of a tradition, and
that is something precious, too.
As we come down to the little parish church in Stowe, we see people
arriving from all sides. We are all silently waiting outside around a
little pile of wood logs in front of the church door. Now comes the altar
boy and, with a lighter--it is prescribed that the new flame should be
made with flint--he sets fire to the wood. Meanwhile the whole community
is congregated, a few hundred people waiting in the crisp air of the
early spring, under the starry sky, for the "Feast of Light" to begin.
Now a solemn little procession approaches from the dark church--the altar
boy, our pastor, and our Father Wasner as deacon carrying the Paschal
candle. First the new fire is blessed by the pastor. Then he turns
solemnly to the Paschal candle around which this "Feast of Light"
centers. With a knife the priest cuts a cross on the candle. Then the
first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, the Alpha and Omega, and
finally the numbers of the year, in this form, while he says:
Christ yesterday and today
the Beginning and the End
Alpha and Omega
His are the times
and ages
To Him be glory and dominion
Through all ages of eternity
Amen.
Then he fixes five blessed grains of incense in the cross on the Paschal
candle, saying:
By His holy
and glorious wounds
may He guard
and preserve us
Christ the Lord.
Amen.
The deacon lights a small candle from the new fire and presents it to the
pastor, who solemnly lights the Paschal candle, saying:
May the light of Christ
In glory rising again,
Dispel the darkness of
Heart and mind.
All of us are holding unlighted candles, and now the procession forms and
enters the church. First comes the altar boy with the cross, then the
deacon with the lighted Paschal candle, then the pastor, the rest of the
altar boys, and finally the people. At the threshold of the church, the
procession stops. The deacon raises the candle and sings "Lumen Christi"
(Light of Christ) while all of us, genuflecting toward the candle which
represents Christ, the Risen Saviour, answer "Deo gratias" (Thanks be to
God). After the first "Deo gratias" the pastor lights his candle from the
Paschal candle. In the middle of the church we are stopped again by the
deacon, who repeats, one tone higher, "Lumen Christi." After the second
"Deo gratias" the rest of the clergy present and the altar boys light
their candles. When the deacon reaches the sanctuary, he chants for the
third time, again a tone higher, "Lumen Christi," and at this "Deo
gratias" the rest of the people light their candles from the new holy
light. The deacon places the candle on a stand and in the warm glow of
the many flames he sings in a jubilant tone the most beautiful hymn of
praise, the ancient "Exsultet."
With this, the "Lucernarium" (the Feast of Light), the first of the three
major parts of the Easter Night, is completed and all the candles of
clergy and people are extinguished. Now begins the second part, the
baptismal service. Once more the priests change their white vestments for
violet and read at the altar four lessons. After each lesson the deacon
admonishes the people, "Flectamus genua," whereupon the congregation
kneels down in silent prayer until he bids them, "Levate."
After the four lessons, priests and people start to sing the Litany of
All Saints. The Litany is sung as far as "Omnes Sancti et Sanctae Dei,
intercedite pro nobis." Then it is interrupted. In the middle of the
sanctuary, next to the Paschal candle, a large vessel with water is
prepared, which the priest now blesses most solemnly--the Easter water.
Every family wants to take a bottle of this most holy water home.
Therefore, a large quantity is set aside for the use of the faithful.
Into the rest the holy oils are mingled, turning it into baptismal water.
If anyone is waiting to be baptized in this holiest of nights, this is
the moment when the baptism would be conferred right there in the
sanctuary.
Then the vessel with the baptismal water is carried by the deacon,
followed by the rest of the clergy in procession, over to the baptismal
font. While the procession returns in silence to the sanctuary, the
candles of clergy and people are lit again, the priests change from
purple back to white, and the pastor steps over to the Paschal candle,
facing the people, and prepares them for the most important moment of the
year: "...Therefore, my dearest Brethren, now that the Lenten observance
is over, let us renew the vows of our Holy Baptism, by which we have of
old renounced Satan and his works, and also the world, which is the enemy
of God, and promised to serve God faithfully in the holy Catholic
Church." And then he asks us gravely:
"Do you renounce Satan?"
And the whole church resounds with the answer: "We do renounce him."
"And all his works?"
"We do renounce them."
"Do you believe in God, the Father Almighty...."
"And in Jesus Christ...."
"And in the Holy Ghost...."
After the third thunderous "We do believe," we may rightly be convinced
that our baptismal innocence is restored. When the meaning of all this
dawns on one for the first time, one feels shaken to one's innermost
being.
"Let us now with one voice pray God as Our Lord Jesus Christ has taught
us to pray," says the pastor, and a renewed congregation, "born again by
water and the Holy Ghost," says the Lord's Prayer.
All this happened to us once when we were infants and our godparents gave
the answers in our name and held the baptismal candle for us. Now we are
privileged once a year to renew these vows while holding the candle
ourselves. This is truly a holy night!
Kneeling down, we finish the litany together with the priest, and then
comes the third part--the Eucharist service, the midnight Mass.
Every year we repeat that the greatest reward for being a singing family
comes when we can sing these jubilant Alleluias at the Easter Mass!
After the official liturgy is fulfilled, there still comes for us the
observance of some ancient religious customs that belong to the liturgy
of the home. In the lantern we take home some of the new blessed Easter
light, with which we shall relight the vigil lamp at home. The bottle we
fill with Easter water, and on the way out of church we take some of the
blackened logs from the Easter fire and preserve them at the fireplace,
where they work as sacramentals in times of danger from storms and
lightning.
We try to keep up the customs we learned from the people in the Alps when
they say the sorrowful mysteries of the rosary on Good Friday. Toward
three o'clock of that day the father of the house goes to the corner
where the vigil light burns before the crucifix and gravely blows it out;
then he pours water on the fire in the fireplace. No flame is allowed
around the house between the hour of Our Lord's death and His
Resurrection, in honor of Him Whom we call the Light of the World.
When we return, therefore, in the Easter Night with the blessed light in
the lantern, the vigil light is lit from it and also the fire in the
fireplace, and all the holy-water fonts are filled with Easter water.
ALLELUIA
Philip Hayes, 1738-1797.
Four Parts. Allegro Moderato
REJOICE, O REJOICE, HEAVENLY QUEEN
Sixth (Hypolydian) mode. This Antiphon replaces the "Hail Mary, Queen in
Heaven" from Easter to Trinity Sunday.
Rejoice, O rejoice Heav'nly Queen, alleluia!
Jesus thy Son who in the tomb has been, alleluia!
As He promised, hath arisen, alleluia.
Pray now for us, thy children, alleluia.
THREE WOMEN AT BREAK OF DAY
Text and melody, Munich Hymnal, 1586.
1. Three women at break of day had joined
With spices so sweet Him to anoint,
Christ Jesus, whom they laid in the tomb.
He had arisen in early morn.
Kyrie eleison.
2. The virgin Mary pure and mild,
Had shed many tears throughout the night.
For Jesus the Christ, her Son and Lord.
He is our Saviour, He God's own Word.
Kyrie eleison.
3. Christ Jesus, our Lord and Master dear,
In glory aris'n Thou doest appear.
Ah, give to me through Thy passion's power
Eternal glory in my last hour.
Kyrie eleison.
EASTER HYMN
Text and melody, Hymn Book, Cologne, 1623.
Allegro
1. Christ is arisen glorious,
God is again victorious.
Let all be joyful singing,
With alleluia ringing,
In cymbalis, in cymbalis benesonantibus,
In cymbalis benesonantibus.
2. Hell has itself confounded,
Satan is fast impounded.
Let all be joyful singing,
With alleluia ringing,
In cymbalis, in cymbalis benesonantibus,
In cymbalis benesonantibus.
3. Death cannot sting nor scar us,
Sin shall no longer mar us.
Let all be joyful singing,
With alleluia ringing,
Alleluia, alleluia, alle-alleluia,
Alleluia, alle-alleluia.
4. God will to peace restore us,
Shed Grace and Glory o'er us.
Let all be joyful singing,
With alleluia ringing,
Alleluia, alleluia, alle-alleluia,
Alleluia, alle-alleluia.
EASTER EGGS!
Text and melody from the traditional Easter Song, "Dalalin, Dalalin, po
Yaichenki," in Rimsky-Korsakov's "Russian National Songs," 1875.
Translation, "Oxford Book of Carols," by permission of Oxford University
Press.
1. Easter eggs! Easter eggs!
Give to him that begs!
--Refrain: For Christ the Lord is arisen, is arisen.
2. To the poor, open door,
Something give from your store!--Refrain
3. Those who hoard, can't afford,
Moth and rust their reward!--Refrain
4. Those who love freely give,
Long and well may they live!--Refrain
5. Eastertide, like a bride,
Comes, and won't be denied.--Refrain
EASTER DAY
Following a custom going back to the tenth century, all the kinds of food
that were forbidden during the weeks of Lent are arranged in baskets and
the Church has a special blessing to be pronounced on this food on Easter
morning by the priest--the meat and eggs and butter, salt and Easter
bread. We remember how in small country churches these baskets would be
placed on the Communion rail, and how in larger communities the people
would hold them in their arms while the priest, after pronouncing the
blessing, would go down the aisle sprinkling holy water over the food.
This is what singles out the Easter breakfast from among all other meals
of the year--that we partake of this solemnly blessed food. ham and
Easter bread and colored eggs and many, many flowers and pussy willows
and silken ribbons give the table a festive look. Artistically painted
eggs are usually kept by the owners throughout the year, but the simply
colored eggs and many, many flowers and pussy willows and silken ribbons
give the table a festive look. Artistically painted eggs are usually kept
by the owners throughout the year, but the simply colored eggs are now
used for "Eierpecken." Around the table everyone takes an egg in hand,
and now, by two's, they try to "peck" the other one's egg first. The one
who indents the other's egg, while his own remains uncracked, harvests
the cracked egg. The one who finally has the most is hailed as victor.
In the old country all the big feasts, but especially Easter, are
accompanied by "Boellerschiessen." The young men use old fashioned heavy
rifles, and particularly in mountainous parts of the country where the
echo takes up those cannon-like detonations, they add tremendously to the
festive character of the day.
And there's still another thing--the Easter fire. On all the heights and
summits innumerable bonfires are lit in honor of the Risen Lord.
For Easter Monday there is an old custom, still very much alive in the
old country, which might well be duplicated here, even though Easter
Monday is not generally a holiday, as it is in Europe. In honor of the
Gospel of the day, which tells of the two disciples who went to Emmaus
and met Our Lord on the way, Easter Monday became a visiting day.
Wherever there are old or sick people, they are visited by young and old.
The Sunday after Easter we still remember as White Sunday, for it was the
day when the little children were led in a small procession by the rest
of the parish into the church for their First Communion.
In the weeks between Easter and the Ascension there are four days set
aside where the Church has her children go out into the fields and
pastures chanting the litany of All Saints and asking God's blessing for
a good harvest and as protection against hailstorms, floods, and
droughts. One day is the feast of St. Mark, April 25th, and the other
three days are called "Rogation Days" and are the Monday, Tuesday, and
Wednesday preceding the Ascension, which always falls on a Thursday. We
always make these outdoor processions up on our mountain. The very first
hue of green is appearing in the meadows, the birds are singing in the
woods again, and the whole atmosphere is one of spring and hope.
PENTECOST
On Ascension Day begin the nine days of waiting and preparing, together
with the Apostles and Mary, the coming of the Holy Ghost. These are the
days when families should discuss the "Gifts of the Holy Ghost" and the
"Fruits of the Holy Ghost" evening after evening. As I look back over the
years I marvel at how different these discussions were every year, always
full of surprises, partly because there were different people
participating--guests of the family or new friends of the children--who
do not ordinarily hear the workings of the "Gifts of the Holy Ghost"
discussed around the family table.
We devote one whole evening to each one of the gifts. First is the Gift
of Knowledge, offered to help us in our dealings with inanimate and
animate created nature, with things and people. It teaches us to make use
of them wisely, and to refrain from what is dangerous for us. As we
consider a typical day, we discover that this gift is needed from the
very moment of awakening, when we have to part from the created thing
"bed." The younger ones discover that the Gift of Knowledge helps them to
remember that they have to make use of such created things as the
toothbrush and the shower. In fact, there is hardly a moment of the day
in which we do not have to make decisions about using something or
dealing with somebody, and when we do not need the immediate help from
the Holy Spirit to carry us safely through the day.
The second evening is devoted to the Gift of Understanding, which is
extended to us for the understanding, with mind and heart, of revealed
truth as we find it in Holy Scripture and the liturgy, and in the
breviary. This gift we need for our hours of prayer and meditation. It
fulfills the Lord's promise: "The Holy Spirit whom the Father will send
in my name, He will teach you all things" (John 14:26).
The third evening is devoted to the Gift of Counsel, which helps us to
distinguish, in every moment of our life, what is the will of God. This
gift we also need when someone turns to us for advice. It is most
necessary to parents and teachers, priests, and all persons in authority.
But above all it should help us to make the right choices in everyday
life--even in such minor matters as "Should I do my homework now or
later? Should I see this movie or not?"
The Gift of Fortitude helps us to overcome our own will. This may start
with such seemingly small matters as jumping out of bed the moment we had
intended to do so; with giving up smoking or candies and cookies for
certain times; with keeping silence when we might have a sharp answer
ready; with doing little things for others at the cost of our own
comfort; and it may lead to the ultimate test--aiding us in joining the
thousands of contemporary martyrs who are called to lay down their life
for God. Again, a gift that is needed throughout the day!
The Gift of Piety does not sound particularly attractive, until we
realize that it infuses our hearts with a special kind of love, directed
toward everything belonging and related to God all persons consecrated to
His service--the Holy Father in Rome, bishops and priests, missionaries,
nuns, and lay brothers--and all things set aside for God only, such as
church and altar, chalice and monstrance, vestments, and the sacramentals
in our home--rosaries, holy water, medals. This precious gift also makes
us eager to devote time to the service of God. It helps overcome morning
laziness when it is time for Mass. It makes us want to visit our hidden
God once in a while in church. In other words, it instills the interest
for the supernatural in our souls. How could we do without it!
When we come to the Gift of the Fear of the Lord, there is always someone
to raise the argument "This I don't understand. That is the spirit of the
Old Testament, of the chosen people who were trembling before Jehovah so
that they said to Moses, `You go up the mountain and talk with Him--we
are afraid.' But the New Testament teaches us to say `Our Father,' and
Our Lord says, `I don't call you servants any more, I call you friends!'
One isn't afraid of one's father or one's friend! What do I need the Gift
of Fear for?" It is then that something very tender and beautiful comes
to light. If a person loves another one very much, you may often hear him
say: "I'm afraid to wake him up, he needs his sleep"; or, "I'm afraid to
disturb him." In other words, love is afraid to hurt the beloved one. The
Gift of Fear should lead us to a state of mind which makes us afraid to
sin because it would hurt Him.
The Gift of Wisdom, finally, seems to sum up all the Gifts of the Holy
Spirit, just as charity sums up all His fruits. If we ask throughout all
our days for the other Gifts of the Holy Ghost and cooperate with them,
if we examine our conscience every night about the use we made of
them--wisdom will grow in our hearts. This wisdom has nothing to do with
ordinary human intelligence, with knowledge learned in schools and from
books. One doesn't even have to be able to read and write in order to
become wise. Once in a while one meets an old lay brother or lay sister,
an old farmer in the country, or some bedridden person, who may not be
learned in the eyes of the world, but may impress us deeply by a true
wisdom expressed in all simplicity.
At the end of the seventh day we have all renewed our conviction that we
cannot lead a truly Christian life without the special aid of the Holy
Ghost, that we have to ask for it as we start each day, and be faithful
to it as we go through the day. Children, with the generosity of young
hearts, are remarkably responsive to this suggestion.
The eighth day of the novena is dedicated to the "Fruits of the Holy
Ghost" as they are enumerated in St. Paul--especially the first three
love, peace, and joy. On this day we always call to mind the admonition
of one of our dearest friends, Reverend Father Abbot, to take the word of
Our Lord literally, that "by their fruits thou shalt know them." In every
individual soul, in every family or community we should watch whether the
fruits are the fruits of the Holy Ghost, whether love, peace, and joy
prevail.
On the last day of the novena we meditate together on the two great
hymns, "Veni, Sancte Spiritus" and "Veni, Creator Spiritus." Through our
previous discussions, these texts are seen in a new light, and the
repeated "Veni, veni" ("Come, Holy Ghost, come") really rises from
longing hearts. And when, during High Mass on Pentecost Sunday, priest
and community kneel down at the solemn text of the Gradual, "Veni, Sancte
Spiritus," we feel the miracle of the first Pentecost repeated in our
hearts, filled by the Holy Ghost in response to the intensity of our
"Veni."
In the old country, ancient Pentecost customs are still alive. On the
Saturday before Pentecost Sunday the young men go out with long whips,
cracking them with special skill to produce a noise called
"Pfingstschnalzen." This is followed by "Pfingstschiessen," done with the
same ancient guns that are used for shooting on Easter and other
festivities. In some valleys people walk barefoot up into the mountains
through the dew, calling for the Holy Ghost. In the Alps, cattle
decorated with wreaths and garlands are sent up to the high pastures,
accompanied for a little way by most of the villagers.
Many of the old churches throughout the Alps have a hole in the ceiling
above the altar through which, on Pentecost Sunday, during High Mass the
"Holy Ghost dove" is let down into the church. On Ascension Day, the
statue of the Risen Lord is lifted on wires after the Gospel to disappear
in the same opening, which brings the mystery of the day very close to
all children, big and small. In some parishes the Risen Lord, at the end
of the Mass, sends gifts down from heaven--apples and cookies and candies
for the children, and flowers and green branches for the grownups, and
everybody tries to take at least a leaf or a petal home.
This brings us to the end of the holy Paschal season. The octave day of
Pentecost, known as Trinity Sunday, is dedicated to the Blessed Trinity.
While in the first centuries the Easter Communion had to be received on
Easter Sunday, the Church later extended "Easter Time," which now begins
on Ash Wednesday and ends on Trinity Sunday.
Once a family has celebrated the year of the Church faithfully from the
First Sunday in Advent, feasting and fasting together, until the fullness
of the Holy Ghost crowns their efforts throughout the days of Pentecost,
it will be a very happy family indeed.
TO THEE, THE HOLY GHOST, WE NOW PRAY
The text of this invocation of the Holy Spirit is by Berthold of
Regensburg (d. 1272). The melody, inspired by the Gregorian "Veni
Creator," goes back to the 13th century. Published in the oldest Catholic
Hymn Book, of Michael Vehe, in 1537. Sing this hymn three times, each
time a tone higher.
To Thee, the Holy Ghost, we now pray,
Firm of faith that we Thy will obey;
When our hour comes, be Thou close beside us;
Safely to our home with Thee above guide us.
Kyrieleis.
THE GREEN MEADOW
With every passing year I realize more deeply how joyful our religion is.
The more one penetrates into what it means to be Catholic, the fuller
life becomes.
There is one great art that we are taught from our childhood and for
which we cannot be grateful enough, and that is how to celebrate feasts.
The little ones grow up hearing again and again: "Today is the feast of
St. Joseph." "Next week is the feast of the Annunciation...the feast of
St. John...the feast of the Holy Family...the feast of the Assumption."
And these are not words only. Soon the children discover that these days
have a truly festive character. Later, when they grow up and learn to use
their own missals, they find that Holy Mother Church prepares a feast for
us almost every day of the year. Naturally, these feast days are not
equally important. Two of them, the anniversaries of Our Lord's
Resurrection and of the Descent of the Holy Ghost, are of such magnitude
and solemnity that the Church assigns a whole week to them. She wants to
teach her children to take time for celebrating. What a necessary lesson
for us of the fast-living twentieth century, when time has become money
and the most important event in people's lives--their wedding--has been
reduced from the ten-day celebration of old to a ten-minute formality at
the Justice of the Peace!
For Easter and Pentecost the Church permits no other feast to interfere.
This is called "a privileged octave of the first order." There are other
great feast days, such as Epiphany and Corpus Christi, Christmas, the
Ascension, the feast of the Sacred Heart, and the feasts of the Blessed
Mother, which also have an octave, and at least a commemoration of the
feast is made each day.
If the first place is given to the feasts of Our Lord, the second is
given to those of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Then come the holy angels, and
they are followed by the saints who had a share in the plan of the
Incarnation, as St. Joseph, St. John the Baptist, Peter and Paul and the
other Apostles, whose feasts are always celebrated with special solemnity.
Then we are told to celebrate as a feast the dedication of churches, the
anniversaries of the martyrdom of the saints, the commemoration of holy
popes, bishops, teachers of the Church, confessors, virgins and all holy
women. According to their importance these feasts will be more or less
solemnly celebrated; but even a simple feast day is a feast day.
Once in a while there is a day in the calendar when we do not celebrate a
feast. This is called a "ferial day." During most seasons these are few
and far between, and it is all the more striking, therefore, to come to
the six weeks of Lent and find that the Church has prepared a special
mass for every ferial day and wishes her children to refrain from
celebrating feasts during these weeks of penance. That makes the great
Alleluia, which introduces the feast of the Resurrection, all the more
jubilant.
Living through this cycle of festive events every year, one cannot help
but learn that one should not just live one's life, or spend one's life,
or go through one's life, but celebrate one's life. Whether the days are
filled with bliss or mourning, we have learned to live almost each one as
a special feast day. As the Introit of many a Mass bids us: "Gaudeamus
omnes in Domino, diem festum celebrantes." ("Let us all rejoice in the
Lord, celebrating this festival day.")
If the time from the First Sunday in Advent until Pentecost seems like
one long uninterrupted celebration of the greatest mysteries of our
faith, the time from Pentecost to the end of the Church Year appears much
more sober.
This second half of the Church Year is referred to in Austria as "The
Green Meadow" because of the green color of the vestments on the Sundays
after Pentecost, whereas, until then, they had been violet, red, or
white. If the festive character of the first part of the year is
comparable to the mountain chains of the Alps or Andes, the single feasts
in the months after Pentecost are like isolated peaks towering above the
green meadow.
CORPUS CHRISTI
On the Thursday after the octave of Pentecost falls the feast of Corpus
Christi--the feast of the Holy Eucharist. The actual anniversary of the
institution of the Blessed Sacrament is celebrated on Holy Thursday, but
on this day the Church cannot summon the proper festive mood, because of
all the other happenings following the Last Supper, which she also has to
commemorate. For this reason she has instituted a special feast day for
this event. In the old country this used to be the great feast day at
summer's beginning, with its distinctive feature the solemn procession,
after the High Mass, in which the Blessed Sacrament was carried through
the streets and over the fields and meadows. Such a Corpus Christi Day
belongs among our most beautiful memories.
The day before, the big boys of the village cut young trees in the woods,
usually birch, and plant them on either side of the road along which the
priest will carry the Blessed Sacrament. From the village inn you hear
the brass band having a last rehearsal, while mothers pin-curl the hair
of their little girls. Everybody is preparing his finery for the great
day. The Association of Voluntary Firemen come in their best uniforms and
brass helmets. The war veterans will also be in uniform with big plumed
hats. The big girls are making garlands by the yards which will span the
street. All windows will be decorated, houses and families vying with
each other the best carpets, flanked by candles and flowers, are hung out
the windows and statues and holy paintings are exhibited on them. Early
in the morning freshly cut grass is strewn thickly on the road. Four
times the procession will come to a halt, the priest will sing solemnly
the beginning of one of the four Gospels and each time there will be
Solemn Benediction. At those four spots altars are erected and decorated
with trees and greenery and a profusion of flowers and candles. A great
deal of love and care and time goes into these preparations.
Then comes the great day. The church choir gives its best at the Solemn
High Mass and all the people attend from the mayor to the smallest child,
for everybody wants to accompany Our Lord on His triumphal way. The
procession is headed by an altar boy carrying a crucifix, followed by all
the school children--the girls in white, their veils held in place by
wreaths of flowers, looking for all the world like so many little brides;
the boys wearing a wreath of flowers on their left upper arm over their
Sunday-best, just like "best men." Then come the different
confraternities with their banners and costumes. In the towns the
convents would send every member they could spare. There would be the
blue Vincentian Sisters with their coronets, looking like a group of
doves, the white Dominican nuns, the brown Carmelites of the Third Order,
the black Benedictines followed by the brown Franciscans, then the
Mission Fathers and the bearded Capuchins followed by the secular clergy
in their liturgical vestments. They are all like the heralds of the great
King Who is following now under the richly embroidered baldachin carried
by the four most important men of the community. The pastor carries the
monstrance with the Blessed Sacrament. Two little girls are throwing
flower petals out of baskets directly at the feet of Our Lord. Little
altar boys alternate in ringing silver bells and swinging the censer from
which rise billowing clouds, enveloping the Sanctissimum. On the right
and on the left are marching soldiers carrying guns as if on parade.
Behind the Blessed Sacrament follows the church choir, then a detachment
of firemen, the war veterans in uniforms, and the rest of the community.
At the very end of the procession comes the brass band playing hymns
while everybody joins in the singing. The highlights for everybody, young
and old, are the moments of benediction with the priest raising the
monstrance for all to see and the soldiers lifting their guns and
shooting their salute, while from the outskirts cannons resound with a
thundering echo. I cannot remember a single occasion when it rained on
Corpus Christi Day. From a cloudless blue sky a hot June sun would shine.
At the end of such a triumphal procession everyone from the oldest
grandfather in a plumed hat to the smallest flower girl would be in a
truly festive mood.
In the new world, we naturally found a different Corpus Christi
celebration. In Philadelphia, where we stayed for the first two years, we
took part once in a Corpus Christi procession which went around the
church grounds. In the second year we acted as church choir at the
convent where our little girls went to school, walking around their big
garden. It was all very solemn and moving and devout. But as soon as we
were up on our hill in Vermont, we obtained the bishop's permission for
an outdoor procession. Now we put up two altars, Hedwig cuts the grass
early in the morning with a scythe, and all of us accompany Our Lord on
His way over the fields and pastures and back home through our cemetery.
THE FEAST OF THE SACRED HEART
Eight days after Corpus Christi follows the feast of the Sacred Heart.
After Jesus had died for us on the Cross, He wanted to do even more--to
give His last drop of blood. And so the Roman soldier pierced His heart
with a lance. One would think this would have convinced all later
generations of their Redeemer's love. But the "Prince of this world" saw
to it that Christians in the course of time became forgetful of this
love. To remind us, Jesus in 1675 appeared to a humble little nun in
France, St. Margaret Mary, all aglow and radiant, the Risen Christ of
Easter Sunday. On His breast she saw His heart all afire. Our Lord
pointed to it, saying, "Behold, this heart which has loved men so much,"
and He told her to spread the news: everyone who would venerate this
symbol of the Divine Heart He would ward with divine generosity.
I will give them all the graces necessary in their state of life.
I will establish peace in their houses.
I will comfort them in all their afflictions.
I will be their secure refuge during life, and above all in death.
I will bestow a large blessing upon all their undertakings.
Sinners shall find in My Heart the source and the infinite ocean of mercy.
Tepid souls shall grow fervent.
Fervent souls shall quickly mount to high perfection.
I will bless every place where a picture of My Heart shall be set up and
honored.
I will give to priests the gift of touching the most hardened hearts.
Those who shall promote this devotion shall have their names written in
My Heart, never to be blotted out.
I promise them in the excessive mercy of My Heart that My all-powerful
love will grant to all those who communicate on the first Friday in nine
consecutive months the grace of final penitence; they shall not die in My
disgrace nor without receiving the Sacraments; My Divine Heart shall be
their safe refuge in this last moment.
As our home is called "Cor Unum" and our motto for daily life that we
want to be one heart and one soul, we chose the feast of the Sacred Heart
as our family feast. On that day, after a Solemn High Mass and the
feast-day breakfast, we have our yearly family conference. We report on
all the doings of the past year, we talk about the plans of the coming
year. This is the day for every one of us to say whether he or she wants
to stay in the family choir known as the Trapp Family Singers for another
season; whoever wants to get married or whoever wants to do something on
his own--this is the day to say so. This custom comes from the old
country. Many families have their family day on the feast of the Holy
Family in January, some on the feast of St. Joseph, who was a family man.
THE FEAST OF CHRIST THE KING
There is one more feast of Our Lord which comes late in the year, on the
last Sunday of October--the feast of Christ the King. According to the
Church calendar, this seems like a recent feast instituted only in 1925.
But one glance at the Gospel of the day shows us that it actually goes
back to the first Good Friday when Pilate said to Jesus, "Art Thou the
King of the Jews?" and Jesus answered, "Thou sayest it." This carries us
many hundreds of years back into the Old Testament, when God's chosen
people were living in a theocracy, ruled by judges, God speaking to them
through the mouths of His prophets. Then one day the Jewish people wanted
"to be as the others"; they saw all the neighboring peoples ruled by
kings, and so they went to their prophet Samuel and asked him: "Give us a
king to judge us as all other nations have." Reluctantly Samuel told the
Lord what the people demanded of him, and God pled with his unruly
people. "Tell them," He said, "what will befall them if I give them a
king. He will take their sons and make them his soldiers. He will take
their men to work his fields. He will take their daughters to be his
cooks and bakers. He will take their best fields and vineyards and olive
orchards. Moreover, he will take a tenth from all they grow and also from
their flocks." But all His pleading availed Him little. The people
stubbornly repeated, "Nay: but there shall be a king over us. We want to
be like other nations and our king shall judge us and go out before us
and fight our battles for us!" Finally the Lord said to Samuel, "Hearken
to their voice and make them a king." And then it happened as God had
foretold it. The kings throughout the ages took their men and women,
their young men and maidens, their best fields and meadows and a tenth of
all they grew and of all their flocks, and many a time the people cried
to the Lord to take away a bad king, but the Lord would not hearken any
more.
As if now in our time God had opened His ear once more to the pleading of
His people, he presents His Son to us as Christ the King, Whose Kingdom
is not of this world, Who is above and beyond all human politics, but Who
is eager to be our King so that we may be His people. The forerunner of
our modern feast of Christ the King is the age-old feast of the Epiphany,
when the three Magi fall down prostrate and adore the King, bringing
among their gifts gold to give Him.
On the feast of Christ the King, our table decoration might relate to the
character of the day. Together with the little ones, the mother could
make a golden crown either of cardboard or of gold foil, as centerpiece
of the table.
THE FEASTS OF MARY
Two months in the year are especially dedicated to the Blessed
Mother--the month of May and the month of October. Special devotions to
Mary during May go back to medieval times. October is the month dedicated
to the rosary, since the feast of the Most Holy Rosary is celebrated on
October 7th. In these months the Blessed Mother's statue or her picture
in the living room are daily decorated with fresh flowers and candles.
The family adds one or the other prayer, mornings and nights, such as the
"Salve Regina "or the "Memorare" or the "Magnificat." It is traditional
throughout the Catholic world to sing hymns in honor of Mary the Mother
of God. Some of those we have included here. We love especially the round
by Mozart. It is composed only on the two words with which the Angel
greeted Our Lady the first time and which countless millions of lips have
repeated since "Ave Maria." "Meerstern" (Stella Matutina) has been
received enthusiastically by everyone who has heard it sung even once.
AVE MARIA
W. A. Mozart. Canon in four parts.
AVE MARIA DEAR
Text and melody, "Echo Hymnodiae Coelestis," 1675.
1. Ave Maria dear, garden of roses fair,
Thornless white lily of Jesse's race.
At Angelus I greet with Gabriel's words so sweet:
Ave Maria, full of all grace.
2. Thou hast the Father's Son, Maria, Purest one,
In thy chaste womb given protection,
Jesus the Holy Child, Who sinners all defiled
Himself has saved from their destruction.
3. Therefore, O Mother mild, pray for us to thy Child,
Ask that our sins may be forgiven:
After this life of tears, Maria, through thy prayers,
gain us eternal joys of heaven.
SALVE REGINA
Text by Herman the Cripple, 1013-1054, monk of Reichenau; melody fifth
(Lydian) mode.
Hail, Queen most noble,
Hail Thou Mother most merciful,
Thou life's true sweetness,
Thou our hope, we greet Thee.
To Thee we're crying,
from paradise banished children.
To Thee we come weeping,
sorrowing and sighing in this dark and tearful valley.
Ah, turn Thine eyes, Advocate, in mercy,
Turn in loving and kind compassion
These Thine eyes upon us sinners.
And Jesus, the blessed fruit of Thy virginal womb,
Show unto us when our exile is ended.
Thou'rt clement, Thou'rt loving,
Thou art sweet, O Virgin Mary.
'TIS SAID OF OUR DEAR LADY
"An old invocation when one is on a pilgrimage to Our Blessed Lady"--Text
and melody from the hymn book of Nikolaus Buttner, 1602.
1. 'Tis said of Our dear lady, a holy dream had she:
Beneath her heart unspotted there grew a lovely tree. Kyrie eleison.
2. Then Our most Blessed Lady a tiny Child did bear,
So let us now with singing our happiness declare. Kyrie eleison.
STELLA MATUTINA
Pilgrim hymn from Paderborn, Germany. As no translation has proved
satisfactory, we are giving the Latin version, by Msgr. Martin Hellreigel.
1. Beautiful, glorious, o'er all victorious,
Lovely, thrice blessed heavenly Queen.
Thy child forever, leaving thee never
Body and Spirit I ever have been.
My life despising, Thee only prizing,
All that I am, that I ever can be
Give I, my Mother Maria, to Thee.
2. Thou art all full of grace, in Thee sin has no place,
Thou, O Maria, Thou only art fair.
And to Thy majesty nothing can wanting be,
All that is perfect and lovely is there.
Vase of election, of all perfection,
Thou art, O Virgin, so wondrously made,
That God Thee chose and in glory arrayed.
A SINGLE BRANCH THREE ROSES BORE
From Silesia, 1840.
1. A single branch three roses bore, O Maria.
They bloom upon the heav'nly shore, O Maria.
--Refrain: O Maria, see we raise
A thousand times our hymns of praise,
Our hymns of praise.
2. What in her womb does Mary bear? O Maria.
As roses bloom an infant fair. O Maria.--Refrain.
3. What on her brow does Mary bear? O Maria.
A crown that God bestowed on her. O Maria.--Refrain.
VIRGIN BLESSED, THOU STAR THE FAIREST
Italian Laude, 15th century
1. Virgin blessed, Thou star the fairest,
Brighter none in heaven shining,
Never could my tongue be telling,
O Maria thy beauty rarest.
2. Virgin blessed, enthroned for ever,
Daughter of the Lord and Mother,
To my erring ways bring comfort,
Let Thy mercy forget me never.
Once I came across a family custom among friends of ours which I found so
lovely that I want to mention it here. They treated their May altar in a
most original way. As their apartment was too small to allow for an extra
table, they put the statue of the Blessed Mother on their grand piano.
The decorating was a family affair. Everybody could contribute what his
heart urged him to bring. Throughout the month of May the smaller
children would bring flowers which they had picked on their way home from
school. Sometimes they placed their favorite toy at the feet of the
Blessed Mother for a particular evening. It was the most irregular, but
also the most lovingly arranged May altar I have ever seen.
From the old country we took with us the longing to pray at a wayside
shrine in honor of Mary. As there were no shrines here, we simply made
one ourselves. During the month of May we often walk in a little
procession over to this shrine, saying the rosary and singing hymns.
There is no reason why people could not make a shrine of their own in
their gardens--under an apple tree, behind a rose bush--and during the
month of May the whole family could once or twice a week have their May
devotion outside.
We must lose the inhibition that our friends or neighbors "might mind"
such exhibition of our faith. In all the years we have been living in
America, time and again we have found that the average American is a most
tolerant person when he senses that what you do is the outgrowth of an
inner conviction. Take this instance: Three times a day the bell in our
chapel rings the Angelus, whereupon everybody in the house stops talking,
drops any work he is doing at that moment, and says the age-old prayer,
"The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary." At the words, "And the Word
was made flesh." we make a genuflection. After the Angelus we make the
sign of the cross and return to whatever we have been doing before. Most
of the time people of various religious affiliations are among our
guests, but not one single time have I seen the flicker of a smile or any
sign of criticism or contempt or whatever else we timid Catholics might
be expecting. We are put to shame by every Mohammedan. At certain times
of the day he takes his little prayer rug and kneels down, facing the
east, to say his prayers, not minding what anybody might think or say.
What his prayer toward the east is for the Mohammedan, the Angelus might
be for us Catholics. If the circumstances of our life allow it, why not
start this custom next month of May and keep it up ever after?
The day of the Assumption, August 15th, is the oldest and most important
of all the feast days of the Blessed Mother. In the old country it is
also known as "Great Flower Day." All the women and girls come to church
on this day with their arms full of neat bundles of herbs, which they put
down in the sanctuary at the Offertory procession. On this feast day the
Church blesses the herbs immediately preceding Mass. The priest, standing
before the altar and facing the people, pronounces a long and solemn
blessing at the end of which the herbs are sprinkled with holy water and
are incensed. There are special herbs which traditionally have to be
included. Days before the feast the people are collecting them in the
meadows and woods. Every family sends one such bundle to be blessed.
Afterwards it will be kept in the corner at home near the picture or
statue of the Blessed Mother. In cases of sickness a leaf is dropped into
the food of the patient and during heavy thunderstorms one of the herbs
is put into the fire on the kitchen stove--it is a sacramental and is
meant to protect us in body and soul.
The connection between the feast of the Assumption and the blessing of
herbs is told in an old legend When Mary the Mother of Jesus felt that
her end was drawing near, she sent her guardian angel to summon the
Apostles, who had gone out into the world to preach the Gospel of her
Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ. When they received the summons, they came in
a great hurry and were just in time to witness the happy death of their
dear Mother. Everyone had come except Thomas. He was three days late.
When he heard that the Blessed Mother had been resting in the tomb for
days, he cried bitterly and pled with the Apostles to open the tomb once
more and let him glance at the beloved features. The other Apostles
yielded to his plea, but as they opened the tomb, they found it filled
with flowers, which gave out a heavenly scent. On the place where they
had laic the body there was only the shroud left--the body had been borne
up to heaven by the angels, where it was joined by the holy soul of the
Mother of God. According to the legend, all the flowers and herbs on
earth had lost their scent after Adam and Eve committed the first sin in
the Garden of Eden. On the day of the Assumption of the Blessed Mother,
however, the flowers were given back their scent and the herbs their
power to heal.
If the day of the Assumption is the oldest and most important feast of
the Blessed Mother, the Church also remembers lovingly all the major
events of her life. These days used to be days of obligation in the early
Church. Only the feast of the Immaculate Conception on December 8th is
such today in the United States. But every Catholic home in which the
Mother of God is venerated will celebrate reverently these days her
birthday on September 8th and her feast day on September 12th (the feast
of the Holy Name of Mary). These could be celebrated in almost the same
way as the birthday and feast day of the mother of the house: her place
(statue or picture on the wall) decorated with flowers or evergreens,
according to the season; vigil lights; a special song added in her honor
at the family's morning and evening prayers; a little celebration with
perhaps some reading (a story, a poem, a psalm from her office, a hymn
out of the breviary, etc.) in the evening. There are many ways to honor
someone we love.
When Mary was three years old--so we are told by tradition--her parents
presented her in the temple, where she remained for the next few years,
together with other young children from the first families (she was a
princess of the royal house of David). These girls, while serving God,
learned to spin, weave, and embroider the vestments and curtains around
the temple. Helping to take care of the many priests on duty, they also
learned to prepare food. They had to read long passages from Holy
Scriptures, like the Book of Psalms; and they had to learn by heart parts
of the Prophets and Proverbs. Thus, long before the angel talked to Mary,
she knew of the tragic life and the cruel death predicted for the
Messiah. Every year on the twenty-first of November, when we celebrate
the feast of the Presentation, the Church draws our thoughts to that part
of Mary's life.
The anniversary of the day when the angel said, "Hail, Mary, full of
grace"--words repeated millions and millions of times ever since--the
twenty-fifth of March, the Annunciation, is perhaps the most widely known
feast of the Blessed Mother. From the earliest days of Christianity, in
the catacombs of Rome, up to today, painters throughout the ages have
tried to capture this greatest moment in human history, while composers
have kept the "Ave Maria" ringing ever new.
When St. Luke tells us that, after the angel left, Mary "went with haste
over the meadows" to visit her aged cousin, Elizabeth, the Church wants
us to remember this in the feast of the Visitation on the second of July,
so that we may always feel assured that Mary is ever ready to come to our
aid.
According to Jewish teaching, Mary's child, being the firstborn son,
belonged in a special way to God. Forty days after his birth, every male
child had to be redeemed by the offering of a lamb, if the parents were
well to do, or a pair of doves if they were of simpler means. At the same
time the mother had to bring a purification offering while she was
presenting her boy, through the priest's hands, to God. This twofold
holiday in Mary's life we celebrate with her on the second of February.
Because old Simeon would exclaim that this Child was "the light to
enlighten them that sit in darkness," the Church blesses in a most solemn
way the candles for the use of the altar. Therefore the day is popularly
known as Candlemas Day. On this day every family takes the candles and
vigil lights they will use during the year into the church for the solemn
blessing. On the evening of this feast of the holy light, many of the
blessed candles are lit for family prayer, thus leading the children into
the world of holy symbols.
The next time the Church shows us the Mother of God, and also our Mother,
is as "Mater Dolorosa"--the Mother of sorrows. The painters have pictured
her as such usually either standing under the cross or with the dead body
of her Son resting in her arms. When we celebrate the "Mater Dolorosa" on
the fifteenth of September in our families, we might tell our children
that her suffering did not start on Good Friday but at the very moment
when she said to the angel, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it done
to me according to thy word." As at the moment of her solemn "fiat" the
Son of God started His earthly existence under her heart, all the words
from the prophets and Psalms took on a new meaning for her. She knew that
this little Child, Who would be born nine months hence, would be the "Man
of Sorrows" of Holy Scripture. Any mother who holds a baby in her lap, or
watches the first steps and the growing up of the older ones, should
meditate on what it would mean to her if she knew that her little child
would one day be cruelly tortured by a seething mob. For this is what
Mary knew while she fondled the newborn baby. When she kissed the little
hands and feet, she felt her lips already stained by the precious blood
gushing forth from deep wounds; when she tended carefully the hair of the
little boy, she knew it would be matted one day by cruel thorns and blood
and sweat and the spittle of His enemies. Such thoughts and meditations
will bring our Mother much closer to our families.
When the children see the mother decorate the altar of the Blessed Mother
in the home on the seventh of October, they will ask, "What feast is
today, Mother?" Then we mothers will tell our children, as soon as they
are old enough to understand, the story of the apparition of the Blessed
Mother to one of her sons, St. Dominic; this story shows how we can
please her most: while saying ten "Ave Marias," we should meditate in our
heart on the happenings of her earthly life. There are the joyful
ones--the Annunciation, the Visitation, the Nativity of our Lord, His
Presentation in the Temple, and His Finding again in the Temple; there
are those which tear her heart asunder in most bitter suffering her Son's
agony in the Garden, His scourging at the Pillar, His crowning with
thorns, His carrying the heavy cross, and His bitter end on Calvary; and
there are her moments of triumph when He rose from the dead, ascended to
Heaven sent the Holy Ghost, took her up to Heaven. and. finally, crowned
her as Queen of Heaven. Thus the Blessed Mother--so legend tells
us--taught St. Dominic how to say the rosary. On that day we wish to say
it solemnly together--maybe all three, the joyful mysteries in the
morning, the sorrowful after lunch, and the glorious at night. It is
amazing how even very little children get the feeling for mental prayer
if they are shown pictures of the appropriate mysteries while the
grownups say the rosary.
On the sixteenth of July there is another chance for the children to ask
Why, and that is when they see the mother decorate Mary's picture. There
is another touching story we can tell our children to make them
understand how solicitous our heavenly Mother is for our eternal
salvation. Once she appeared to another of her sons, St. Simon Stock,
Father General of the Carmelite Order in England. She showed him the
scapular, the straight piece of cloth falling down from the shoulders to
the feet in back and front, with an opening for the head. This was a part
of the clothing of men and women in the time and country of Our Lord.
Mary said to St. Simon, "Whoever will wear this garment, and die clothed
in it, I shall come myself and take him up into heaven on the Saturday
after his death." This is known as the "Sabbathine Promise" and on the
sixth of July we celebrate the feast of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel (popularly
known in Europe as the Scapular Feast). Simon Stock added the scapular to
the habit of the Carmelite monks and nuns. For practical use among lay
people it was cut down until it reached its present-day size--just two
little pieces of brown cloth worn over the shoulders on white tape. One
by one, as the children grow up, they will be enrolled in the scapular.
What a consolation to parents and children if they know that their
beloved ones, whom God called to Himself, died clothed in the scapular!
PILGRIMAGES
In Austria, the main part of our family celebration of the feasts of the
Blessed Mother would be a pilgrimage to "Maria Plain." If the weather
permitted, we would walk from our home down to the river and along it, an
hour and a half, to the foot of the mountain on which the
three-hundred-year-old pilgrimage church stood at the edge of an old
grove. All the way we would say the rosary, one rosary after the other.
At the foot of the mountain we would light candles which we had brought
along. With burning candles, we would say one more rosary, singing the
pilgrimage hymn after each decade. Then we would attend Holy Mass,
receive Communion, place our candles on the big stand where many, many
others were burning already. After Mass and Communion we would kneel for
some time in front of the picture of the Blessed Mother for a
heart-to-heart talk. And then one felt wonderful--light-hearted,
strengthened, happy. Outside again we would invariably pause and take in
the marvelous view across the ancient city with the high mountains in the
background. But then one of the children would remind us that we had
prayed now for a solid three hours on an empty stomach! For just such
people was the "Kirchenwirt," the Church Inn, very conveniently located a
few hundred feet below on the slope. On the way to the inn we passed
stands where they sell postal cards, candles, and more or less trashy
little souvenirs. We all bought a few postal cards which we would write
while waiting for our breakfast.
When we found ourselves in America, this was one of the things we missed
most--that there were no famous old pilgrimage churches dotting the
landscape, no wayside shrines to which one could make a pilgrimage as we
were used to doing.
To make pilgrimages to hallowed places is a custom as old as mankind. We
find it in India, China, with the old Babylonians, Greeks, and Romans. It
comes from an urge that is deeply rooted in the human heart to worship
God in holy places designated by Him. For the Christian Rome and
Jerusalem are the holiest places, and for two thousands years they have
been what Mecca is to the Mohammedan: at least once in his lifetime he
wants to go to the holy place!
Of course, these thoughts did not come to us as long as we were in
Austria. There we just took pilgrimages for granted, like so many other
things. But in America, when we started to wail and complain about the
absence of hallowed shrines and our new American friends said, "What is
all this talk about pilgrimages?" we found ourselves forced to do some
thinking on the subject. It was then that we discovered that a pilgrimage
is not predominantly a Catholic custom. Archeology has shown that certain
places seem to have been hallowed throughout the ages--different peoples
thousands of years apart choosing the same spot for their worship,
whether they were Etruscans, Romans, or Christians.
Everybody knows about Lourdes and Fatima, but in addition to these
world-famous shrines of the Blessed Mother, there are thousands of other
places scattered all over the Christian countries where exactly the same
thing happened a soul in great distress prayed fervently to the Mother of
God and, in a miraculous way, the plea was answered. In such places of
miracle, churches were erected later. This is the usual origin of the
pilgrimage centers as we know them all over Austria. From our home
outside Salzburg there were as many as seven different ones which we
could reach by bicycle or, in very grave necessity, on foot. In the old
country, a hike of several hours is essential to a true pilgrimage. It is
a very moving thing to have taken part in a pilgrimage of a whole
village. The people would collect at one place (a custom that always
reminds me of the "statio" of the daily Lenten Masses and of the time
when the people of Rome used to meet in one place and walk in a solemn
procession to the church where the day's Mass was to be celebrated).
There the procession would form, led by an altar boy with a crucifix and
guided usually by one of the parish priests. The people would alternately
say a decade of the rosary and sing a hymn along the way until they
reached a certain point in the vicinity of the shrine--usually at the
foot of the hill or at a wayside cross if there was no hill. There they
would all light their candles. The last part of the pilgrimage would be a
crescendo of prayer and song. The inside walls of the pilgrimage churches
are usually crowded with votive pictures and crutches, wax models of
hands, arms, legs--indicating the cures that have been obtained in this
holy place--and it is written in stone and wood and scribbled in ink and
pencil all over the walls: Mary has helped, Mary will help again. This
creates such an atmosphere of trust and confidence that merely to be
there is soothing to the soul. As many people have said, returning from a
pilgrimage, "Even if I hadn't received what I have asked for, the Blessed
Mother has filled my heart with gratitude and happiness. Now I suffer
gladly." This is one of the main secrets of Lourdes.
Another origin of a place of pilgrimage is very often the vow somebody
took in a moment of great danger: If the Blessed Mother helps me through
this, I am going to build her a chapel or a church. When the boys in our
family went abroad as soldiers in the American Army, one of them took
such a vow during the heat of battle: If he came home safely, he would
erect a chapel to Mary, the Queen of Peace, on the highest point of our
property. He did return safely, and for several years now he has been
working on his chapel. It is a labor of love. Soon we hope to celebrate
the blessing of the little sanctuary and then we can continue making our
pilgrimages, either privately or in groups, lighting our candles at the
foot of the hill, saying the rosary and singing hymns and obtaining
graces through Mary who is called "Mediatrix of all Graces."
As our concert tours took us all over this vast continent we learned that
the new world also has its holy places. "Good St. Anne" attracts the
multitudes to Ste. Anne de Beaupre, St. Joseph to Montreal, the North
American Martyrs have their shrine in Auresville, N.Y., the Indian
martyr, Kateri Tekakwitha, has hers in Caughnawaga, outside Montreal. The
bodies of St. Rose and Blessed Martin de Porres attract pilgrims to Lima,
Peru. But most of all the Blessed Mother hallowed a spot of her own
choice by making Guadalupe the Lourdes of the new world.
THE ANGELS
Long before our little children learn to know Peter Rabbit, Donald Duck,
Mickey Mouse, and Winnie the Pooh, they must be made familiar with their
most faithful companion--their best friend, their guardian angel. The
beauty of telling stories to little ones lies in their ready acceptance.
They believe that their guardian angel is around all the time, day and
night, and they will talk to him, greeting him in the morning, discussing
things with him during the day, thanking him in the evening. When
children grow up with a strong sense of a spiritual power at their
service, instituted by God for the very special and sole purpose of being
their very own helper and protector, such children need never be afraid,
need never suffer from the modern ailment of insecurity. It is up to us
mothers to bring about this early and very personal friendship with their
guardian angel. The feast of the Holy Guardian Angel on October 2nd
should be a big event in our nurseries.
Once children are familiar with the world of the angels they will eagerly
listen to other "angel stories" such as the one about the great hero
Michael (whose feast day is September 29th) and his battle with his
brother-angel Lucifer, who refused to serve God and had to be thrown out
of heaven into the abyss where there is "weeping and wailing and gnashing
of teeth." A beautiful story is the one about the Archangel Raphael
(feast day, October 24th), who was the friend and companion of young
Tobias. Johannes Brahms set a lovely song about St. Raphael to music; we
always sing it on that day.
And as we tell the children about the good angels, we shall also have to
mention the bad ones who turned into devils. If the highest of them,
Satan himself, dared to tempt Our Lord, who are we to think that it
"can't happen to us" or that such stories belong to the Middle Ages and
do not apply to modern times? What St. Peter says to all of us we must
tell to the little ones as well "Watch and pray, for the devil goes about
like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour."
SAINT RAPHAEL
Johannes Brahms, "Deutsche Volkslieder," No. 7.
1. Comfort unfailing, help thou the ailing, Saint Raphael.
Troubles distress us, evils oppress us, O help, O help, Saint Raphael.
2. While we are sleeping, watch thou art keeping, Saint Raphael.
Troubles distress us, do not forget us, O help, O help, Saint Raphael.
3. For none damnation, for all salvation, Saint Raphael.
Sinners, repent ye, humbly relent ye, O help, O help, Saint Raphael
THE SAINTS
I don't know what I would have done without the saints in bringing up our
large family. Long before our children could memorize the Apostle's Creed
and pronounce, "I believe in the Communion of Saints," they were already
participating in it. Very early they had learned that the Communion of
Saints is one large, happy family whose members have one thing in common:
they want to go to heaven. Some of them, like ourselves, are still living
here on earth, working hard to reach the goal. Very many, however, have
already reached it. These are our big sisters and brothers, the saints.
And there is still another group. As Our Lord has said once that nothing
unclean can enter the Kingdom of Heaven, most of the souls, after they
leave the body in death, are not found ready and have to be purified in
Purgatory from the last stain of sin. Even while suffering, these souls
are happy because they know that, for them, time with its great dangers
is over and soon they will be forever united with their Lord and God.
"Be ye perfect even as your Heavenly Father is perfect," says Our Lord,
and "This is the will of God--your sanctification," explains St. Paul. We
mothers cannot begin early enough to make it seem quite natural to our
little ones that we all--they and we--must strive to become saints just
like....And this is where our big sisters and brothers enter in. The
most precious thing about the saints is that they were not born that way.
They had their faults just as all of us do, and they had to work hard to
overcome them. Some of them were quick-tempered like St. Peter or St.
Francis de Sales; some even lied and stole and cheated their mother, as
St. Augustine tells us about himself; some were quite wicked, like St.
Paul or Mary Magdalene; others were meek and mild from the beginning,
like little St. Therese and Dominico Savio. We parents could learn from
the great eagerness with which the children take to certain TV programs
or movies with Hopalong Cassidy or other popular performers that every
young soul is a hero-worshipper. Children simply need someone to look up
to, to imitate. Well, there is no Hollywood hero who could not be easily
outdone by one of the saints. Among that very large number of our big
sisters and brothers who "made it" there is one for every kind of child.
There are the Old Testament saints. Some of their stories are more
exciting than all of Grimm's fairy tales. Think of the stories of Abraham
when he goes up the mountain to sacrifice his only son; of King David and
King Solomon; the prophet Jeremiah; Daniel in the lion's den; and Tobias
with his friend, Raphael; not to forget our saintly first parents, Adam
and Eve, whose feast the Church celebrates on the vigil of the birth of
Our Lord, December 24th. There are the stories of the holy women--Judith,
Ruth, and Esther; that exciting adventure story of Joseph in Egypt; and
the harrowing tale of Job on the dunghill.
Then there are the New Testament saints--all the Apostles and the holy
women. There are the many heroes from the time when Christianity was an
underground movement the martyrs of the first centuries, especially the
young ones--the boy Tarcisius, who was killed as he was carrying the
Blessed Sacrament secretly to the prisoners in Rome, the girls Agnes and
Philomene and Cecilia. There are rich saints like King Louis of France
and Queen Elizabeth of Hungary and Queen Margaret of Scotland. There are
poor saints like Francis of Assisi and Benedict Joseph Labre. There are
saints who were sick most of their lives, like Lydwina. There are saints
who were famous for their jokes and laughter, like Philip Neri and Don
Bosco. When we turn the pages of one of the books with a daily story
about one of the saints, we find that there were holy boys and girls,
holy mothers and fathers, holy lawyers, doctors, slaves, popes and
priests, farmers and swineherds, tailors and bakers--just "holy
everybody," as one of our children once said.
My husband had once taken great pains to tell a beautiful fairy tale to
the children. When he had finished, the oldest asked, "Is all of that
true, Father?" Slightly embarrassed, he had to admit that it was not,
whereupon the child said, "Why did you tell us, then?" Often afterwards,
when we came across tales of saints who had spent their lives sitting on
a column, such as Simon the Stilite, or who flew through the air like
Joseph of Cupertino, we would say that as a story this equaled any fairy
tale but had the added advantage of standing the crucial test, "Father,
was that true?"
First of all a child must be acquainted with his own patron saints, whose
names were given to him at his baptism. Later on he will also learn about
the patron saints in his immediate family, and in a large family like
ours this will amount to a great number of stories. Then, by and by, as
the child grows up and hears more about these big sisters and brothers,
he will add some of his own liking. I told my children always to look for
saints who had the same troubles and the same faults as they did and then
to ask his or her intercession. He must know how it is. Whereupon one day
one of the little ones said to me, "Mother, I know now why you choose St.
Peter as your favorite saint. He could get so mad that he once even cut
somebody's ear off!"
Throughout the centuries Christian people have adopted this same policy.
They have searched in the lives of the saints and have chosen certain
ones as patrons for certain ailments. There is, for instance, a group of
fourteen saints particularly famous for their prompt intercession in
special cases, known as the Fourteen Holy Helpers (Fourteen Auxiliary
Saints). Here is the list, together with the attributes by which they are
characterized in painting and sculpture.
(1) St. George (April 23rd), soldier-martyr. Always represented with the
dragon he strikes down. He is invoked against the devil, and together
with St. Sebastian and St. Maurice he is the patron of soldiers.
(2) St. Blaise (February 3rd), bishop, carries two candles crossed; he is
invoked against diseases of the throat.
(3) St. Erasmus (June 2nd), martyr. His entrails are wound around a
windlass. He is invoked against diseases of the stomach. Patron of
seafarers.
(4) St. Pantaleon (July 27th), bishop. He is recognized by his nailed
hands. Invoked against consumption. Together with St. Luke and Saints
Cosmas and Damien, patron of doctors.
(5) St. Vitus (June 15th), martyr. He is recognized by his cross. Invoked
against St. Vitus' dance and the bite of poisonous or mad animals.
(6) St. Christopher (July 25th), bears the Infant Jesus on his shoulder.
Invoked in storms and against accidents in travel.
(7) St. Denis (October 9th), bishop, holds his head in his hands. Invoked
for people who are possessed by a devil.
(8) St. Cyriacus (August 8th), martyr, wears deacon's vestments. Invoked
against diseases of the eye.
(9) St. Acathius (May 8th), martyr, wears a crown of thorns. Invoked
against headache.
(10) St. Eustace (September 20th), martyr, wears hunting clothes and is
shown with a stag. Invoked against fire--temporal and eternal. Patron of
hunters.
(11) St. Giles (September 1st) , hermit, is recognized by his Benedictine
habit and his hind. Invoked against panic, epilepsy, madness, and
nightmares.
(12) St. Margaret (July 20th), martyr, keeps a dragon in chains. Invoked
against pains in the loins. Patron for women in childbirth.
(13) St. Barbara (December 4th), martyr, is recognized by her tower and
the ciborium. Invoked against sudden death. Patron of artillery men and
miners.
(14) St. Catherine (November 25th), martyr, is shown with a broken wheel.
Invoked by students, philosophers, orators, and barristers as "the wise
counselor."
In the old country, a picture of the Fourteen Holy Helpers is to be found
in many a little wayside shrine or impressive pilgrimage church, such as
Vierzehn-Heiligen in Bavaria.
It cannot be stressed enough that perhaps the most important books in the
home, after Holy Scriptures, are those dealing with the lives of the
saints. Besides the classic Butler, there are other collections. We
always liked Omer Englebert's "The Lives of the Saints," (New York, David
McKay Co.) which gives the story of several saints for every day, thus
providing one with many "true stories." Looking through those "Lives"
becomes more and more fascinating as we realize the many links uniting
these people of long ago with us in the twentieth century. To my
amazement I discovered that there is a patron saint for practically every
profession--though we have to distinguish between saints appointed by the
people themselves and others appointed by Rome. Thus the Holy Father,
Pius XII, named St. Michael the patron of policemen, St. Albert the Great
as patron for scientists, St. Alphonse Liguori as patron of Confessors,
and St. Catherine of Siena as patron of nurses. He appointed Our Lady
under her title of the Immaculate Conception as patroness of the soldiers
of the United States, while his predecessor, Pius XI, made St. Therese of
Lisieux patron of all missionaries, St. Aloysius patron of all young
people, the famous Cure of Ars, St. Jean-Baptiste-Marie Vianney, the
patron of parish priests. What I myself like best of all is that Rome
appointed Our Lady of Loretto the patroness of aviators (obviously
because she steered successfully the holy house of Nazareth through the
air and had it land in Loretto, Italy, where it has been venerated since
the Middle Ages).
Besides these "appointments" of patron saints, there are many chosen by
the people. I never could find out why St. Anthony of Padua (June 13th)
has to find lost objects for everybody around the globe or why St.
Matthew (February 24th) is the patron of repentant drunkards. With other
saints it is easy to see why some incident of their life or death was
taken up by the people as indications that they should be invoked in
special cases. Good St. Anne is the patron saint for mothers-in-law and
domestic troubles; St. Florian (May 4th), who was a Roman soldier
condemned to death as a Christian and drowned in the River Enns in
Austria, is universally invoked to extinguish fires, obviously with the
help of the water hallowed by his death; St. Bartholomew (August 24th),
who was skinned alive, was made patron for all tanners and butchers. It
is easy to see why the Holy Innocents (December 28th) are the patrons of
choir boys and foundlings but rather hard to fathom why St. Margaret
(July 20th) cures kidney diseases.
One of our children made a list once, "in case we need it," of saints to
be invoked for special illnesses. Here it is:
Against fever--St. Hugh (April 29th)
Against epilepsy--St. John Chrysostom (January 27th)
Against burns and poisons--St. John the Evangelist (December 27th)
Against inflammations--St. Benedict (March 21st)
Against cough and whooping cough--St. Blaise (February 3rd) Against
consumption--St. Pantaleon (July 27th)
Against cold--St. Sebaldus (August 19th)
Patron of all the sick and dying--St. John of God (March 8th)
One of our boys got interested in patron saints for special professions.
Here is his little list:
St. Jerome--patron of students (September 30th)
St. Isidore--patron of laborers (May 10th)
St. Ives--patron of lawyers, jurists, advocates, notaries, and orphans
(May 19th)
The "Four Crowned Martyrs"--patrons of masons and sculptors (November
8th)
St. Francis de Sales--patron of writers (January 29th)
St. Gomer--patron of the unhappily married (October 11th)
St. Gregory the Great--patron of singers (March 12th)
St. Cecilia--patroness of musicians (November 22nd)
St. John the Baptist--patron of tailors (June 24th)
St. Paul--patron of rope-makers (June 30th)
If there are girls and boys in a family and one of the boys has made a
list of various saints for different professions, the girls simply have
to make a list of patron saints, too. Ours found patron saint for animals:
Bees--St. Ambrose (December 7th)
Pigs--St. Anthony the hermit (January 17th)
Dogs--St. Rochus (August 16th)
Horses--St. Leonard (November 6th)
Asses--St. Anthony of Padua (June 13th)
Birds--St. Francis of Assisi (October 4th)
Fish--St. Anthony (June 13th)
And once in a while somebody would come running with a special discovery.
"Mother, look! We have enough girls in our family. I found a patron saint
to obtain male children: St. Felicitas (July 10th)!"
"Mother, do you think Aunt Susan knows there is a saint of old maids--St.
Catherine of Alexandria (November 25th) ?"
They also found that St. Gaston is the patron of children who learned to
walk very late, and they discovered a few very valuable saints for
weather. If you want rain, pray to St. Odo; if you want sunshine, pray to
St. Claire. But the head of the heavenly weather department is of course
St. Peter.
And so it goes. If the children in a family become sufficiently
interested in their big brothers and sisters, the saints, to start making
such lists and finding out about the respective feast days, it is just as
if one of their grown-up sisters were getting married and the new in-laws
taken into the family. Their birthdays and feast days are noted down, the
enlargement of the family circle is celebrated, and this, each time, is a
happy occasion.
While close relations are kept up with a great many of the saints, some
of them are singled out by the Church to be celebrated in a special way.
There is, for instance, St. John the Baptist, whose feast is celebrated
on the twenty-fourth of June. We learn that as far back as the eighth
century bonfires were being lit in honor of the precursor of Christ--the
"Johannesfeuer"--as a special solemnity. In the old world, the young
people of the villages and towns take kindling wood up the mountains or
outside of town to some beautiful spot on a river bank. Before it is lit
a few words point out the significance of this fire at the height of the
year, at the beginning of summer when the nights are shortest; and the
symbolism of fire and light in relation to that radiant figure, the
Baptist. "He was a burning and a shining light: and you were willing for
a time to rejoice in his light" (John 5:35). When the flames are leaping
up, everybody present joins in singing one of the old songs of the
occasion. When the fire is burning low, everyone leaps over it--boys and
girls holding hands and leaping by twos. Then they settle down around the
fire for the fire-watch until the last spark has died out.
Soon afterwards, on June 29th, we celebrate the feast of St. Peter and
St. Paul. The badge of St. Peter is the cock, in memory of the
"thrice-crowing" of that animal. As St. Peter is the "Great Fisherman,"
his feast day is celebrated in many seacoast towns with great festivity.
Boats are decorated with garlands and ribbons. There are races, and the
chief dish is fish, of course.
In our extensive traveling throughout many countries over three
continents we have come across many a saint who is very famous locally
but of whom we otherwise might never have heard. One day in the year is
set aside to remember them all--the ones whose names are mentioned in the
calendar and the multitudes who stand around the throne of God. This is
All Saints' Day, on November 1st. In the Epistle, St. John tells us about
the vision he had of the "great multitude which no man could number, of
all nations, and tribes, and peoples, and tongues, standing before the
throne and in sight of the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in
their hands," singing praise to God.
The teaching of Our Lord in the Gospels tells us what makes a saint a
saint "Blessed are the meek...Blessed are they that mourn...Blessed are
they that hunger and thirst after justice...Blessed are the
merciful...Blessed are the clean of heart...Blessed are the
peacemakers...Blessed are they that suffer persecution for justice'
sake...." Nothing is so encouraging as to consider, on All Saints' Day,
those millions and millions around the throne of God who followed this
teaching. Like St. Augustine before her, our Martina, when she was still
quite little, said once on All Saints' Day, "As I think of it, Mother, if
all those people could do it, why not we!"
ALL SOULS' DAY
Toward the end of the year, on November 2nd, the Church sets a day aside
which is devoted to the suffering souls in Purgatory. Just as we turn to
our big sisters and brothers, the saints, to intercede for us at the
throne of God, the poor souls are also turning toward us "Have pity on
me, have pity on me, at least you, my friends, because the hand of the
Lord has touched me" (Job 19:21; Office of the Dead). Helpless in
themselves, since the purification they are undergoing is passive
suffering, they can be helped by us. We can pray for them. We can offer
up sacrifices and good works with the desire that God may accept them
and, seeing in them the prayer and suffering rise from the Mystical Body
of His only Son, hasten the delivery of those souls whom He deems worthy
and ready for such help. On the day of "all the faithful departed" the
Church reminds her children to listen to the message of the Scriptures in
her liturgy and to do some thinking and meditating on Purgatory and the
holy souls there.
We know Purgatory is a realm of twilight, so to speak--an in-between
darkness and light, a place of regret and longing. Of the suffering which
is undergone there, we are told that it is bitter and great, that it
surpasses all imaginable suffering here on earth as an ocean surpasses a
little puddle.
A knowledge of Purgatory we find already in the Old Testament. Two
hundred years before Christ Judas Machabeus "making a gathering...sent
twelve thousand drachms of silver to Jerusalem for sacrifice to be
offered for the sins of the dead, thinking well and religiously
concerning the resurrection, (for if he had not hoped that they that were
slain should rise again, it would have seemed superfluous and vain to
pray for the dead); and because he considered that they who had fallen
asleep with godliness, had great grace laid up for them. It is,
therefore, a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead, that they
may be loosed from their sins" (II Macc. 12:43-46).
All Souls' Day is a solemn day for families. We mothers must tell our
children again about the Communion of Saints, which functions in the same
way as life in a large family, where each member depends on the others.
In this case, the poor souls depend on us. They depend on our love, but
love does not consist in words only, it consists in deeds. The sooner the
little ones learn to understand this, the better it is for their whole
life. On All Souls' Day they will be encouraged to bring little
sacrifices, to say special prayers. They will be told about the
"thesaurus ecclesiae," the golden treasure chest of Holy Church filled
with the atoning sacrifice of Christ, the merits of the Blessed Virgin,
of the saints--canonized and uncanonized--into which we may delve. It was
given to Peter to bind and loosen, and his successor, making use of that
very power, sets the conditions under which this can be done. One such
disposition is the "toties quoties" indulgence each time we visit a
parish church on the second of November and say six "Our Fathers," six
"Hail Marys," and six "Glorys," we may gain a plenary indulgence
applicable to the poor souls.
All Souls' Day is also the date when we remind our children that on the
solemn day of their baptism the Church lit the baptismal candle and said:
"Receive this burning light and see thou guard the grace of thy baptism
without blame. Keep the Commandments of God so that when the Lord shall
come to call thee to the nuptials, thou mayst meet Him with all the
Saints in the heavenly court, there to live forever and ever." This
baptismal candle of our children we should wrap reverently and keep in a
special place together with our own. If, as happened to us, these candles
are no longer in the family (we could not take along such things from the
old country), one can take candles blessed on Candlemas Day, tie the
names of each child to a candle, and keep them in a special place. This
is what we did. Only Johannes, being born in this country, has his own
original baptismal candle. On All Souls' Day we take the candles out and
look at them and remind each other to light our candle for any of us in
case of sudden death, as a symbol that we want to die in our baptismal
innocence, that the light which was kindled at that solemn moment has not
been extinguished voluntarily by us. It is always a solemn moment when
the children are called to think of their parents' death.
In the old country the great event of the day used to be the visit to the
cemetery. First I have to describe an Austrian cemetery. Out in the
country every village has its cemetery around the church; bigger towns
have them on the outskirts. Every grave is a flower bed at the head of
which is a crucifix, sometimes of wrought iron, sometimes carved in wood.
Occasionally there are also tombstones. Families take care of their
graves individually. People who have moved elsewhere will pay the
cemetery keeper to do it for them. The German word for cemetery is
"Gottesacker," meaning "God's acre." In the summer it looks like a big
flower garden. People are constantly coming and going, working on their
graves, or just praying for their loved ones. On anniversaries you will
see vigil lights burning and on All Souls' Day every grave will have its
little vigil light as a token that we do remember. People will flock out
to the cemeteries in the early evening because it is such a sight--those
many, many flames and all the mounds covered with flowers. Slowly one
walks up and down the aisles, stopping at the graves of relatives and
friends to say a short prayer and sprinkle them with holy water.
When the father of our family died several years ago, we started our own
old-world cemetery. Soon one of his children followed him and now there
are two flower-covered mounds under the large carved-wood crucifix. The
lanterns are lit not only on the anniversaries and on All Souls' Day, but
every Saturday night. A hedge of "rosa multiflora" encircles this holy
spot. Inside the hedge there is a bench and we often sit there in the
peace and quiet of our little acre of God.
THE LAND WITHOUT A SUNDAY
Our neighbors in Austria were a young couple, Baron and Baroness K. They
were getting increasingly curious about Russia and what life there was
really like. One day they decided to take a six-weeks trip all over
Russia in their car. This was in the time when it was still possible to
get a visa. Of course, at the border they were received by a special
guide who watched their every step and did not leave them for a moment
until he deposited them safely again at the border, but they still
managed to get a good first-hand impression. Upon their return they wrote
a book about their experiences, and when it was finished, they invited
their neighbors and friends to their home in order to read some of their
work to them. I shall always recall how slowly and solemnly Baron K. read
us the title "The Land Without a Sunday." Of all the things they had seen
and observed, one experience had most deeply impressed them: that Russia
had done away with Sunday. This had shocked them even more than what they
saw of Siberian concentration camps or of the misery and hardship in
cities and country. The absence of Sunday seemed to be the root of all
the evil.
"Instead of a Sunday," Baron K. told us, "the Russians have a day off.
This happens at certain intervals which vary in different parts of the
country. First they had a five-day week, with the sixth day off, then
they had a nine-day work period, with the tenth day off; then again it
was an eight-day week. What a difference between a day off and a Sunday!
The people work in shifts. While one group enjoys its day off, the others
continue to work in the factories or on the farms or in the stores, which
are always open. As a result the over-all impression throughout the
country was that of incessant work, work, work. The atmosphere was one of
constant rush and drive; finally, we confessed to each other that what we
were missing most was not a well-cooked meal, or a hot bath, but a quiet,
peaceful Sunday with church bells ringing and people resting after
prayer."
Here I must first tell what a typical Sunday in Austria was like in the
old days up to the year before the second world war. As I have spent most
of my life in rural areas, it is Sunday in the country that I shall
describe.
First of all, it begins on Saturday afternoon. In some parts of the
country the church bell rings at three o'clock, in others at five
o'clock, and the people call it "ringing in the Feierabend." Just as some
of the big feasts begin the night before--on Christmas Eve, New Year's
Eve, Easter Eve--so every Sunday throughout the year also starts on its
eve. That gives Saturday night its hallowed character. When the church
bell rings, the people cease working in the fields. They return with the
horses and farm machinery, everything is stored away into the barns and
sheds, and the barnyard is swept by the youngest farm-hand. Then everyone
takes "the" bath and the men shave. There is much activity in the kitchen
as the mother prepares part of the Sunday dinner, perhaps a special
dessert; the children get a good scrub; everyone gets ready his or her
Sunday clothes, and it is usually the custom to put one's room in
order--all drawers, cupboards and closets. Throughout the week the meals
are usually short and hurried on a farm, but Saturday night everyone
takes his time. Leisurely they come strolling to the table, standing
around talking and gossiping. After the evening meal the rosary is said.
In front of the statue or picture of the Blessed Mother burns a vigil
light. After the rosary the father will take a big book containing all
the Epistles and Gospels of the Sundays and feast days of the year, and
he will read the pertinent ones now to his family. The village people
usually go to Confession Saturday night, while the folks from the farms
at a distance go on Sunday morning before Mass. Saturday night is a quiet
night. There are no parties. People stay at home, getting attuned to
Sunday. They go to bed rather early.
On Sunday everyone puts on his finery. The Sunday dress is exactly what
its name implies--clothing reserved to be worn only on Sunday. We may
have one or the other "better dress" besides. We may have evening gowns,
party dresses--but this one is our Sunday best, set aside for the day of
the Lord. When we put it on, we invariably feel some of the Sunday spirit
come over us. In those days everybody used to walk to church even though
it might amount to a one or two hours' hike down and up a mountain in
rain or shine. Families usually went to the High Mass; only those who
took care of the little children and the cooking had to go to the early
Mass.
I feel sorry for everyone who has never experienced such a long, peaceful
walk home from Sunday Mass, in the same way as I feel sorry for everyone
who has never experienced the moments of twilight right after sunset
before one would light the kerosene lamps. I know that automobiles and
electric bulbs are more efficient, but still they are not complete
substitutes for those other, more leisurely ways of living.
Throughout the country, all the smaller towns and villages have their
cemeteries around the church; on Sunday, when the High Mass was over, the
people would go and look for the graves of their dear ones, say a prayer,
sprinkle holy water--a friendly Sunday visit with the family beyond the
grave.
In most homes the Sunday dinner was at noon. The afternoon was often
spent in visiting from house to house, especially visiting the sick. The
young people would meet on the village green on Sunday afternoons for
hours of folk dancing; the children would play games; the grownups would
very often sit together and make music. Sunday afternoon was a time for
rejoicing, for being happy, each in his own way.
Until that night at Baron K.'s house we had done pretty much the same as
everybody else. Saturday we had always kept as "Feierabend" for Sunday.
There was cleaning on Saturday morning throughout the house, there was
cleaning in all the children's quarters--desks and drawers and toys were
put in order. There was the laying out of the Sunday clothes. There was
the Saturday rosary, and then--early to bed.
On Sunday we often walked to the village church for High Mass, especially
after we had started to sing. Later we used to go into the mountains with
the children, taking along even the quite little ones, or we used to play
an Austrian equivalent of baseball or volleyball, or we sat together and
sang some of the songs we had collected ourselves on our hikes through
the mountains. We also did a good deal of folk dancing, we had company
come or we went visiting ourselves--just as everybody else used to do.
And if anybody had asked us why we began our Sunday on Saturday in the
late afternoon, why we celebrated our Sunday this way, we would have
raised our eyebrows slightly and said, "Well, because that's the way it's
always been done."
But when my husband and I were walking home that night from Baron K.'s
house, we realized that our complacency--so prevalent among people in
pre-war days--had received a rude shock. It dawned on us that we had
taken something for granted that was, in reality, a privilege: namely,
that we lived in a country where Sunday was not so much observed as it
was celebrated as the day of the Lord. This was a new way of looking at
things, and the light was still rather dim, but I can see now in
retrospect that a new chapter in our life as a Christian family began
that very night.
We were lucky. The priest who stayed with us at that time, saying Mass in
our chapel, and who had become a close friend of the family, was in a
very special way a "Sunday fan," as we teasingly called it.
"I don't know what is the matter with Father Joseph," my husband had
remarked to me at various times. "He always hints that we don't make
enough of the Lord's Day. Why, we stop work on Saturday when the
"Feierabend" begins; like everybody else, we get ready for Sunday by
preparing our Sunday clothes, going to Confession, reading the Epistle
and Gospel. On Sunday we go to Mass together with our children, we have a
good Sunday breakfast, later in the day we go visiting. If there's anyone
sick among our friends, we try to see him. We spend the day together as a
family, as it should be. We go for hikes with the children, or we play
games, or we have some folk dancing, or we make music....I really don't
know what he means."
I do know now. It is true that we spent the Day of the Lord as a family,
praying, resting, and rejoicing together. I'm sure Father Joseph did not
object to that. But what he felt was that we did it unthinkingly, as a
matter of routine, because everybody in Austria in those days did it like
this. It had become a tradition. Father Joseph must have sensed the great
danger to a nation once people observe religious customs only because
"everybody does it" or "for hundreds of years it has been done this way."
He knew that every generation has to rediscover for its own use the
inheritance that has been handed down from its ancestors. Otherwise all
those beautiful old customs, religious or other, lose their vitality and
become museum pieces. Father Joseph noticed that increasingly people were
answering, when asked why they observed certain rites, "because we have
always done it that way," and he was alarmed. What he was most concerned
about, however, was the celebration of Sunday.
On the crucial night, we decided that we would get together with Father
Joseph the very next day and ask him to tell us all we didn't know about
Sunday. So we asked him to have a cup of coffee with us. If he had a
weakness, it was for coffee. With this, one could lure him always.
Smiling in anticipation, he took his cup when my husband asked quite
casually, "Father, would you mind telling us all about Sunday and why you
were so upset when we once wanted to go to a movie on Saturday night, or
when Rupert and Werner took their bicycles apart on a Sunday afternoon?"
And now something unexpected happened. Father Joseph put his cup down,
went over to my husband, took his hand in both of his, shook it heartily,
and said with a voice audibly moved: "Thank you, Georg, thank you for
this question. I have been praying for this moment for a long time!" And
then he added, "I won't be able to tell you all about Sunday, but we can
at least start...."
How well I remember it all--for I have re-lived this moment many times
since, only now it is I who take Father Joseph's place and listen to some
more or less impatient good Christian questioning: "May I ask what is the
matter with you and your Sunday and what you are always fussing about?"
Father Joseph was right. He was not able to tell us everything in this
first session. When my husband and I saw that we were on the threshold of
a great discovery, we suggested that we let the older children
participate. From then on we spent many, many evenings, and every
Saturday evening, listening to Father Joseph explaining to us "all about
Sunday."
He began by giving us a history of the development of the Sunday in
Apostolic times. The first Christian community in Jerusalem remained
faithful to the observation of the Sabbath Day as well as to the prayer
in the Temple, as we know from the "Acts of the Apostles." But at a very
early date the Apostles themselves must have instituted a new custom
after the close of the Sabbath, the Christians remained assembled in
prayer and meditation and chanting of hymns to spend the night in vigil
and to celebrate the Holy Eucharist in the early hours of the morning. As
their Lord and Saviour had risen from the dead on the day after the
Sabbath--"in prima Sabbathi," as the four Evangelists call that day--the
first Christian community celebrated, not the seventh day, like the Jews,
but the first day of the week, and so made every Sunday into a little
Easter.
Then Father Joseph suggested we read in the "Acts of the Apostles" about
those times when the young Church was increasingly faced with the
perplexing question whether non-Jewish converts from paganism should be
obliged to observe all the Jewish laws too, as, for instance, the
observation of the Sabbath Day. And we read about the Council of
Jerusalem around the year 50 A.D., when the Apostles decided that the
Sabbath Day need not be observed any more. From then on the "Acts of the
Apostles" reveal that those two sacred days begin to conflict. St. Paul
still uses the Sabbath to teach in the synagogues about Jesus Christ, but
he also organizes and presides over the Sunday celebration in the new
Christian communities of the Greek world. The conflict becomes more open
toward the end of the first century when the Christians cease to call
their holy day "Sabbath" and name it "the Lord's Day," or "Dominica,"
instead. We find the first mention of "the Lord's Day" in the first
chapter of the Apocalypse, where St. John says that his vision took place
on "the Lord's Day." St. Ignatius of Antioch will use this term again in
his letters to the young Christian communities. In the Didache, one of
the earliest descriptions of the lives of the first Christians, we find
the sentence, "But on the Lord's Day, when you have gathered together,
break bread and give thanks."
In the days of St. Ignatius, who was martyred around the year 110, the
Christians went one step further in their detachment from the Old
Testament, which now was considered as a symbol and prefiguration, to be
fulfilled in the New Testament. St. Ignatius writes that "it is monstrous
to talk of Jesus Christ and to practice Judaism." In his day, the Sunday
already had completely replaced the Sabbath of the Old Law as the weekly
sacred day.
Then Father Joseph told us about the situation of the Christians outside
the Holy Land. In the Roman Empire, every ninth day was a holiday. The
Christians in Rome and Asia Minor were unacquainted with the main
characteristic of the Jewish Sabbath Day--the complete cessation of work.
Living under Roman law, it would have been impossible for them to stop
working, especially in periods of persecution. We now came to see that,
while the act of worship of the Sabbath of old consisted in abstaining
from work, the act of worship of the Sunday of the Christians consisted,
from the very beginning, in the celebration of the Eucharist. To assist
at the sacrifice of the Mass was strictly indispensable. Even in times of
persecution, when the Church had to go underground, the Holy Eucharist
was celebrated secretly in private homes early in the morning. Every
Sunday morning the Christians risked their lives in order to celebrate
the Holy Eucharist. We know that Rome had its very efficient secret
police and that during the first three hundred years of Christianity,
thousands of martyrs sacrificed their lives. What a great day Sunday must
have been to those people!
One of our children asked, "Father Joseph, didn't the early Christians
always celebrate Holy Mass in the catacombs?" and he answered that the
most recent archeological findings show that the most ancient churches in
Rome were erected on the foundations of private homes; the common belief
is now that the catacombs, as public cemeteries, would have been too easy
a target for the Roman police. Only occasionally Holy Mass was said
there, over the body of one of the martyrs; the usual Sunday celebration
would take place secretly in private homes.
Next we saw the Church rising in the beginning of the fourth century. The
times of persecution were over; a new life was beginning. The ceremonies
of the Holy Eucharist did not have to be held in secret and in the dark
of the night; they could now be celebrated in broad daylight. This led to
important changes in the celebration of Sunday. From now on the Sunday
liturgy begins to develop more and more. In the fourth century the great
Roman basilicas were erected in different parts of the big city.
At this phase of our study, we spent many evening hours with Father
Joseph, listening to his explanation of the origin of the station
churches. On the main Sundays of the year, such as Pentecost and the
Sundays following the Ember Days, the Pope used to go in solemn
procession to celebrate Holy Mass in one of these basilicas, accompanied
by all the clergy and faithful of Rome.
Father Joseph's enthusiasm was contagious. He knew Rome as well as we
knew our house and garden. He brought a box with postal cards along,
showing all the ancient basilicas, all the station churches, details from
their architecture, and especially the mosaics. When our concert tour
several years later took us to Rome, it was like coming home to a
familiar place.
In the fourth century the Sunday took on a new character. Now the Church
could afford to declare it the official holy day of the week. In the
sixth century we see that the cessation of work has already become a law.
A new change became apparent with the flowering of monasticism. From the
very beginning, the monks took up the idea of hourly prayer throughout
the day and of special prayers at midnight. This had a decided influence
on the celebration of the Sunday vigil, which had always been observed
but was now becoming a general practice. After having spent the greater
part of the night from Saturday to Sunday and the morning hours in prayer
and meditation, the Sunday necessarily took on the character of a day of
rest. Now the Sunday had taken over completely the function of the
Sabbath. It had become both a day of worship and a day of rest.
Parallel with the development of the Sunday went the development of the
liturgical year. In the beginning, the Christians celebrated only one
feast: that of Easter. It began on Good Friday, rose to its height on
Easter Sunday and was continued during fifty days, the Paschal season,
which ended with Pentecost Sunday. The first four hundred years of
Christianity did not know the season of Lent, but the Christians fasted
every Friday, and later every Wednesday also.
In the fourth century a new feast came to be celebrated: the anniversary
of Christ's birth; and just as Pentecost was the completion of Easter, so
the feast of the Epiphany became the conclusion of the festive Christmas
time. The liturgy of the fourth century, then, was centered on two big
feasts Christmas and Easter. As time went on, both of these feasts
developed further and added weeks of preparation, the season of Lent and
the season of Advent. Now the liturgical year was formed. Its development
had a most important influence on Sunday. So far the Sundays had repeated
over and over again the celebration of the same mystery: Christ rising
from the dead. Now, however, each Sunday took on a significance of its
own. No longer were there just "Sundays," but Sundays during Advent,
Sundays during Lent, Sundays after Easter, and Sundays after Pentecost.
Some took on a special name, such as "Gaudete Sunday," "Laetare Sunday,"
"Good Shepherd Sunday," "Rogation Sunday."
Of course, our children wanted to know: "And how about the feasts of the
saints?" And we learned that during the first few hundred years only a
martyr was considered worthy of being commemorated on a special feast
day. On the anniversary of his martyrdom Holy Mass would be said, but
only at the place where his body rested. This restricted the feasts of
the martyrs to specific places. Beginning with the fourth century, saints
that had not died the death of martyrdom were given a special feast. Such
a feast doubled the octave of the day; hence the name "double feast." For
many centuries, however, the sanctoral cycle was considered secondary to
the temporal cycle, which is seen, for instance, in the law that during
the time of Lent no feast of a saint could be celebrated. Of course, no
Sunday would ever yield to the feast of a saint, however famous.
During the Middle Ages the Sunday, besides still being the commemoration
of the Resurrection of Christ, took on a special character as a day of
forgiveness and mercy. From the ninth century on, the Church asked that
on Sunday all military operations be suspended!
In this period falls the development of the liturgical drama. The reading
of the Gospel, the reading of the Passion on Good Friday and of the
Gospel of the Resurrection on Easter Sunday started it. Several members
of the clergy, dressed in alb and stole, took on the different parts in
order to make Holy Mass more interesting to the faithful who no longer
understood Latin, the language of the Church. It became more and more
common to enact parts of the Gospel stories in the sanctuary. In those
times the people began to forget that the liturgy should, first and
foremost, be prayer and adoration, and not entertainment for the
faithful. Furthermore, throughout the Middle Ages the liturgy of the
saints grew in importance. The feast of the saints were multiplying and
encroaching on the Sundays. Finally, the slightest double feast had
precedence over the Sunday, until, finally, in the eighteenth century
only Easter Sunday and Pentecost Sunday were properly Sundays and not a
saint's day. All the other liturgical Sunday Masses had vanished, even
those of the Sundays of Advent and Lent. This condition lasted until,
finally, the holy Pope Pius X saw the seriousness of this state of
affairs and remedied it with his great reform, which gave the lost Sunday
back to the Church.
This is only a brief summary of what we learned in weeks and months about
the history of the Sunday. We were also made aware that Our Lord had
singled out Sundays for His most solemn acts and commands--His
Resurrection, the command to the Apostles to go and preach to the whole
world, the institution of the Sacrament of Penance and the Descent of the
Holy Ghost on Pentecost. Having realized this, the Sunday can never be a
day like any other to us. It is truly a consecrated day, a day of grace.
And this launched us on a new search--for more and more knowledge about
the "day of grace." From the very beginning Sunday brought to all
Christians, first of all, the grace of dedication. It gave and gives them
the unique chance to surrender themselves entirely to God. To what an
extent this was true we came to see especially at the times of
persecution. Since, from the very beginning, to assist at Mass was
identical with receiving Communion, anybody who did not appear at Sunday
Mass thereby excommunicated himself and was not considered a member of
the Church any more. To the ones who cooperated with this grace of
dedication, however, Sunday turned immediately into a day of joy, because
joy is the result of dedication. As soon as we surrender ourselves
completely to God, our hearts will be filled with peace and joy.
Therefore, every Sunday the Church repeats in the Office the words which
sound like an echo from Easter: "This is the day which the Lord hath
made. Let us rejoice and be glad." So we see that, besides the grace of
dedication, the liturgy of the Sunday obtains also for us the grace of
joy and the grace of peace.
Another grace we discovered, which is designed directly for the majority
of the faithful who cannot afford to say with the psalmist, "Seven times
a day I have given praise to Thee," and for whom the seven canonical
hours and the nightly vigils are some kind of spiritual luxury. God, in
His great mercy, has set aside for them every week a sacred day and for
that day has provided the grace of contemplation, which otherwise seems
reserved only for the ones who have "time to pray." Since the days of St.
Jerome it has been believed that the Sunday bestows on all who celebrate
it in a Christian manner the grace of contemplation. In the Middle Ages
the lay people used to flock into the convents and monasteries on Sundays
to talk about God and spiritual things with the ones they considered
professionals--the monks and nuns--as we can read in the autobiography of
St. Teresa of Avila.
Yet another grace Sunday has in store for us. As we have a right to
believe eternity will be one uninterrupted Easter Sunday, so every Sunday
throughout the year helps the Christian people to prepare for that great
Sunday to come. It is a day of expectation, a weekly reminder that here
is only the beginning of true happiness.
The theme is endless. More and more graces will be discovered as we
meditate together on the mystery of the Sunday.
It is wonderful to make such discoveries together with children or young
people. To them, things are either right or wrong, and as soon as they
feel in their own lives that they are not as they should be, they
immediately undertake "to do something about it." That is the way it was
with our children and the Sunday.
Soon after our research had begun, they founded an "Association for the
Restoration of the Sunday" with Father Joseph as president. It was their
own idea. The association appointed one member of the family for each
Sunday, and he or she had the responsibility of seeing to it that this
Sunday would be observed to the best of our ability as the Day of the
Lord. The more we learned about the great sanctity of this day, the more
disturbed the children became over the inadequacy of our Sunday habits.
From now on, Saturday evening would be kept free from any outside
appointments. The "Feierabend" would no longer be kept because "everybody
did it," but because Saturday night had now become the vigil of the Day
of the Lord, hallowed by almost two thousand years of observance. The
Sunday clothes were no longer "an old Austrian custom." They helped to
stress the sacred character of the day. No one would have wanted to put
on dirty work clothes in order to take one's bicycle apart.
Even the younger ones knew that "to visit the sick" and "to help the
poor" on Sunday corresponds to the character of a day of mercy--"dating
back to the ninth century," they would proudly explain to an unsuspecting
uncle.
But, most of all and above all, the gay, joyful character of Sunday was
jealously guarded, "because this is the day we should rejoice in the
Lord." The children would arrange folk dances with their friends, ball
games in our garden, hikes through the mountains, and home music. Through
all these activities, however, the contemplative character of Sunday was
always evident, with the children demanding to read the Gospels together
and to discuss the liturgy even during mealtime.
After our talk with Father Joseph, our previous observation of Sunday
seemed to me like a house built on unprepared ground, until a true
builder saw it, straightened it up, and put a strong foundation
underneath.
And then we came to America.
In the first weeks we were too bewildered by too many things to notice
any particular difference about the Sunday, but I remember missing the
sound of the church bells. When I asked why the bells of St. Patrick's
Cathedral do not ring on Sunday morning, I was told, to my boundless
astonishment, that it would be too much noise. These were the days when
the elevated was still thundering above Sixth Avenue. Never before had we
heard noise like this in the heart of a city!
Then we went on our first concert tour. As we were driving from coast to
coast in the big blue bus, we tried to make the most of Sunday--as much
as the situation permitted. On Saturday afternoon "Feierabend" was
declared, and this meant no school (our children had their lessons in the
bus and had to take tests twice a year). Then we met to prepare for Mass,
as had become our custom under Father Joseph. Everyone took his missal
and we either crowded together in the middle of the bus or met in a hotel
room, all taking turns reading the texts of the Sunday Mass. This was
followed by a more or less lively discussion and a question period led by
Father Wasner. Sunday we would wear our Sunday dress, the special
Austrian costume set apart for that day. But otherwise Sunday was the day
when we were, perhaps, a little more homesick than on any other day,
missing the church bells, missing the old-world Sunday.
As we got more used to being in America and as our English progressed, we
made a startling discovery Saturday night in America! It was so utterly
different from what we were used to. Everybody seemed to be out. The
stores were open until ten, and people went shopping. Practically
everybody seemed to go to a show or a dance or a party on Saturday night.
And finally we discovered the consequence of the American Saturday night:
the American Sunday morning. Towns abandoned, streets empty, everybody
sleeping until the last minute and then whizzing in his car around the
corner to the eleven o'clock Sunday service.
Once we were driving on a Sunday morning through the countryside in the
State of Washington and we saw trucks and cars lined up along the fields
and people picking berries just as on any other day. To see the farmers
working on a Sunday all across the country is not unusual to us any more,
and this happens not only during the most pressing seasons for crops.
When we lived in a suburb of Philadelphia in our second year in this
country, we found that the rich man's Sunday delight seemed to consist of
putting on his oldest torn pants and cutting his front lawn, or washing
his car with a hose, or even cutting down a tree (doctor's
orders--exercise!); while the ladies could be seen in dirty blue jeans
mixing dirt and transplanting their perennials. There was none of that
serenity and peace of the old-world Sunday anywhere until we discovered
the Mennonites and the Pennsylvania Dutch. They even rang the church
bells!
The climax of our discoveries about the American Sunday was reached when
a lady exclaimed to us with real feeling, "Oh, how I hate Sunday! What a
bore!" I can still hear the shocked silence that followed this remark.
The children looked hurt and outraged, almost as if they expected fire to
rain from heaven. Even the offender noticed something, and that made her
explain why she hated Sunday as vigorously as she did. It explained a
great deal of the mystery of the American Sunday.
"Why," she burst out, "I was brought up the Puritan way. Every Saturday
night our mother used to collect all our toys and lock them up. On Sunday
morning we children had to sit through a long sermon which we didn't
understand; we were not allowed to jump or run or play." When she met the
unbelieving eyes of our children, she repeated, "Yes, honestly--no play
at all." Finally one of ours asked, "But what were you allowed to do?"
"We could sit on the front porch with the grownups or read the Bible.
That was the only book allowed on Sunday." And she added: "Oh, how I
hated Sunday when I was young. I vowed to myself that when I grew up I
would do the dirtiest work on Sunday, and if I should have children, they
would be allowed to do exactly as they pleased. They wouldn't even have
to go to church."
This was the answer. The pendulum had swung out too far to one side, and
now it was going just as far in the other direction; let us hope it will
find its proper position soon.
And then we bought cheaply a big, run-down farm in northern Vermont and
set up home. By and by we built a house large enough for a big family,
and a chapel with a little steeple and a bell. We could celebrate Sunday
again to our heart's content just as we were used to doing. Saturday is a
day of cleaning and cooking in our home, and five o'clock rings in
"Feierabend," when all work ceases and everyone goes to wash up and
dress. If there are any guests around the supper table, Father Wasner
will announce that "after the dishes are done we will all meet in the
living room, everybody with his missal, for the Sunday preparation, and
everyone is heartily invited to join." When we are all assembled, we
start with a short prayer and then we take turns reading the different
texts of the coming Sunday's Mass, everybody participating in a careful
examination of these texts. First we discuss briefly the particular
season of the Church year. Then we ask ourselves how this Sunday fits
into the season. Do the texts suggest a special mood? Some Sundays could
almost be named the Sunday of Joy, or the Sunday of Confidence, the
Sunday of Humility, the Sunday of Repentance. Everybody is supposed to
speak up, to ask questions, to give his opinion. It is almost always a
lively, delightful discussion. At the end we determine the special
message of this Sunday and what we could do during the next week to put
it into action, both for ourselves and for the people around us. After
this preparation for Mass, we all go into the chapel, where we say the
rosary together, followed by evening prayers and Benediction.
On Sunday we often sing a High Mass, either in our chapel or in the
village church, and on the big Sundays of the year we sing vespers in the
afternoon. We know this should become an indispensable part of Sunday,
now even more so because the Holy Father has spoken.
I remember my astonishment when our Holy Father, Pope Pius XII, found it
necessary to say, in his address on Catholic Action in September, 1947
"Sunday must become again the day of the Lord, the day of adoration, of
prayer, of rest, of recollection and of reflection, of happy reunion in
the intimate circle of the family." Such a pronouncement, I knew, is
meant for the whole world. Was Sunday endangered everywhere, then ?
In the year 1950 we traveled through Mexico, Guatemala, Panama, through
the Caribbean Islands and Venezuela, through Brazil and Argentina; we
crossed the Andes into Chile, we gave concerts in Ecuador, Peru, and
Colombia; and after many months of travel in South America, we went to
Europe on a concert tour and sang in many European countries. And I came
to understand that the Christian Sunday is threatened more and more both
from without and from within--from without through the systematic efforts
of the enemies of Christianity, and from within through the mediocrity
and superficiality of the Christians themselves who are making of Sunday
merely a day of rest, relaxing from work only by seeking entertainment.
There was once a time, the Old Testament tells us, when people had become
so lazy that they shunned any kind of spiritual effort and no longer
attended public worship, so that God threatened them through the mouth of
the prophet Osee: "I shall cause all her joy to cease, her feast days and
her Sabbath, and all her solemn feasts."
And now the words of our present Holy Father in his encyclical "Mediator
Dei" sound a similar warning:
"How will those Christians not fear spiritual death whose rest on Sundays
and feast days is not devoted to religion and piety, but given over to
the allurements of the world! Sundays and holidays must be made holy by
divine worship which gives homage to God and heavenly food to the
soul....Our soul is filled with the greatest grief when we see how the
Christian people profane the afternoon of feast days...."
Newspapers and magazines nowadays all stress the necessity of fighting
Communism. There is one weapon, however, which they do not mention and
which would be the most effective one if wielded by every Christian.
Again the Holy Father reminds us of it: "The results of the struggle
between belief and unbelief will depend to a great extent on the use that
each of the opposing fronts will make of Sunday." We know what use Russia
made of the Sunday. The question now is:
And how about us--you and I?
Celebrating With the Family on Earth
As the Evenings Grow Longer
Soon after our first concert tour in this country letters came pouring
in, always asking the same question: "What did you do to keep your family
together?" or "What did you do to keep your children at home?" In
answering the same question over and over again I developed something
almost like a slogan, which I finally stated on the stage at every
concert when giving a little introduction to our ancient instruments "If
a family plays together, sings together, and prays together--it usually
stays together." In the letters I also used to say, "If you spend the
first ten years with your children, they will spend the next ten years
with you."
Then harassed parents wrote back asking what they should do to keep their
young ones at home. They would much rather go to the movies or to a ball
game. I tried to answer this at length, but to do it in writing was not
very satisfactory.
Therefore, when we decided to open a summer camp--The Trapp Family Music
Camp--I was delighted to be given the opportunity to show people by doing
what we meant. The evenings of each camp session were always devoted to
"home entertainment." And once the camp closes at the end of August, our
home remains open for guests, and there we carry right on, living as we
had been used to in Austria. In Advent we have our Advent wreath and we
follow all the old customs for Advent and Christmas. We celebrate a gay
Carnival and a strict Lent. We paint our Easter eggs in different ways
and have as beautiful a Corpus Christi procession as we can arrange.
Every Saturday night we have our preparation for Mass--and anyone who
happens to be in the house is invited to participate.
It happens quite frequently that we talk with other parents about home
life. The chief regret is that entertainment has become so predominantly
passive in our days. People just sit back and let themselves be
entertained by watching a ball game, or television, or a movie, or
listening to the radio. Almost invariably the question will be asked,
"But what else could you do?"
We can only tell them what we, the Trapp family, do. Or, even better,
invite them to share our evenings with us....
DANCING
Coming from Austria to America meant coming from a country known from
time immemorial as "the land of dancers and fiddlers," a country that had
brought forth not only hundreds of most picturesque folk dances, but also
that world-wide favorite, the Viennese waltz--to the country that had
given to the world jazz music and the dancing that goes with it. Needless
to say, we soon found ourselves engulfed in endless discussions on the
subject of folk dancing versus modern ballroom dancing.
Many times we were told: "But is not jazz America's popular music and
true `folk dance'?"
Here is my answer: Most of the so-called popular music of America
certainly does not come from the people. Rather, far removed from any
creative contact with this earth of ours, it is composed in some New York
skyscraper; it is propagated by modern means of mass propaganda, radio
and television, to a nation of one hundred and sixty millions; and upon
the appearance of its successor, completely forgotten and lost.
And now let us take a look at the people who dance in the bars and
nightclubs and dance halls. In the first part of the evening there
prevails an air of sophistication which shows in facial expressions of
bored indifference. As the evening progresses, however, the low rumbling
of the rhythm seems to increase and to win out over the poverty of the
melodies. And then something like a trance takes hold of the dancers as
they trip around and slur and wiggle, hypnotized by the suggestive sound
of the jazz orchestra.
As one looks down from a gallery on one of the modern dance halls, one is
struck by something else--a picture of utter chaos. There is no pattern
of movement relating the dancing couples; each pair seems alone on its
narrow piece of floor, busy only with itself, with no thought for the
others. The red or purple twilight mercifully conceals what could easily
be read on the dancers' faces; for we must not forget that the dance is a
universal language, just like music; as it involves the whole body, it
has a depth and wealth of expression which surpasses by far the language
of words.
It is high time for all Christian parents to wake up and see what has
become of modern ballroom dancing. I say on purpose ballroom dancing. At
the time when I was quite young, or when our mothers "came out," there
existed ballroom dancing too, as distinct from folk dancing. But at that
time the waltz, the minuet, the Rhinelander and polka, the quadrille,
gallop, and mazurka held the place taken today by jazz and jitterbug.
Each nation added one or two favorite national dances, Austria the
"Laendler," Sweden the "Hombo," Jugoslavia the "Kolo," Hungaria the
"Czardas." How could one single generation have been so careless as to
lose all these precious goods which had enriched the lives of many
generations?
The last years, however, seem to have brought about a reaction. In French
Canada there is the beginning of a movement aimed to reintroduce folk
dancing to young people. In America the English and Irish square dances
are becoming increasingly popular, and all over the country little groups
seriously interested in the folk dances of many nations are forming. We
were surprised to find on the West Coast even more interest in folk
dancing than in the East.
We have always enjoyed our inheritance of Austrian folk dances. As we
started touring all over Europe we exchanged our own national dances for
those of the country whose guests we were. So it comes that we have a
large collection of European folk dances which we brought home from our
travels. From the very beginning of our summer Music Camp, folk dancing
has been an integral part of our evening entertainment. It was always a
joy and a rewarding happiness to see how everybody took to it
enthusiastically.
One difficulty is usually the music. One should realize from the very
beginning that record players are not the right accompaniment for folk
dancing. They are too mechanical, too rigid. People simply have to learn
to play instruments again accordion and guitar, fiddle and clarinet, or
the recorder, the ancient flute that is gaining so many new friends today.
One thing is sure people have always danced, and always will. By
experience we have learned that it is not enough to criticize an existing
system; one should rather supplant it with a better one, overcome the
evil with the good. Parents might get interested in the nearest folk
dancing group, join in their evenings, learn the dances, read about them,
learn to play the dances on simple instruments and then introduce them in
their own homes. With these folk dances, old and new, and the ballroom
dances of our own youth, we shall be able to enjoy many a happy evening
together with our families.
One more thing needs to be said here there are times when dancing is
allowed and times when dancing is forbidden "All things have their
season....There is a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn,
and a time to dance" (Ecclesiastes 2:1-4). This also has become
forgotten, and dances in parish halls on Saturday evenings during Advent
and Lent are not infrequent. Again, we have to wake up from our sleep, or
shall we call it stupor, and look to our Christian inheritance in order
to learn when we should dance and when not. Then, in spite of "but
everybody does it," we shall act accordingly. It may not always be easy
to be a true Christian, but it brings inner happiness--that kind of
happiness which is the result of a sacrifice cheerfully brought--the
happiness the children of the world ignore.
READING ALOUD
One of our favorite evening pastimes has always been reading aloud. In
the old country, when I could do it in German, I would read what amounted
eventually to a small library, while the family would be knitting,
darning, or whittling. Among the books were historical novels, which led
quite naturally into talking and discussing the period of that time;
short stories; and one or the other of the great novels of world
literature. Stevenson's "Treasure Island," Kipling's "Kim" and, of
course, his "Mowgli" Stories delighted the younger listeners. Such
readings would go on over several weeks; we would hurry from supper into
the library and settle around the fireplace for a few hours' intense
enjoyment of one of the world's literary masterpieces. (In this way a
great many Christmas gifts got finished, too.)
Then we discovered the great pleasure of reading plays together, each one
reading a part aloud. Some of Shakespeare's tragedies and comedies should
be read this way in every home.
If the children are led by stages from the fairy-tale age to "Winnie the
Pooh," "Little Women," "Oliver Twist"--to mention but a few of the
childhood classics--they will come to demand another such session every
winter. In later years they will refer to those times as "the winter we
were reading `Great Expectations'" or "that winter when we were plowing
through `War and Peace'."
Quite apart from acquainting us with the best works of the world's great
writers, it cannot be stressed enough that reading as a group is
altogether different from reading for oneself. Family reading provides
another valuable thing in great danger of dropping out of our lives--the
ability to form an opinion and state it--which is the very essence of
group discussion. As the children grow up, the books will change in
character. There will be biographies of saints, books on the spiritual
life, and books of philosophical character. The discussions that grow
quite naturally from our readings may later be long to our children's
most cherished memories.
GROUP DISCUSSION
Once, in one of our camp seasons, a lady said to me just before lunch,
"Can't we have a discussion some day?" I answered quickly, "Oh,
certainly--on what?" and was slightly baffled when she answered cheerily,
"Never mind on what--just a discussion." This led me to announce at the
end of lunch: "At three o'clock we shall have a discussion. Everybody who
is interested please come to Stephen Foster Hall." Everybody was at
Stephen Foster Hall at three o'clock, wondering what the discussion would
be about. I started out by relating the little incident before lunch and
inviting those present to name a few topics which might be of general
interest. And we had a most enjoyable hour. The topic finally was: "What
can we--the ones who are present--contribute toward world peace?" I
remember the keen interest of the whole group--how they listened to a
grade school teacher, a dentist, a country doctor, a nurse, several
housewives, a grandmother, a university professor, a factory worker, a
missionary from China....Ever since that experience we have such a
discussion meeting--the topic chosen by those present--in each Sing Week
at least once.
Occasionally we also spend an evening or a Sunday afternoon at home in
our bay window discussing old or new questions, such as "What is
beautiful?" (still not settled though much pondered and discussed with
many different groups of friends and members of the family). Modern art
is another widely, and wildly, discussed subject, with special emphasis,
in our house, on modern music. "The Time of the Gadget," as I
disrespectfully refer to the technical age, is also hotly discussed.
Some of these discussions come about quite naturally, some of them could
be planned. In this way growing children learn not only to listen to and
to respect another's opinion, but also to state their own bravely, even
if it should be opposed by the rest of the group. Do not the Gospels show
us Our Lord, ever so often, involved in discussions with His friends, the
Apostles, or holding His own against His enemies, the Pharisees!
SINGING
From the very time when the first baby is born, the mother should sing to
her child. There are innumerable lullabies, nursery rhymes, and little
prayers to be found in songbooks, just waiting to be brought to life.
Parents will be astonished at how soon the little ones will carry a tune,
and this will lead naturally to singing in parts, with Mummy taking over
the second and Daddy later adding the third. Singing is something
entirely natural. If only one could cure that horrible phobia we come
across so often: "I can't sing--I don't have a piano!" The most beautiful
instrument is the human voice, which God gave to everyone.
The radio could provide a valuable education in every household if
listening were planned intelligently with the help of the weekly program.
But often the radio is turned on early in the morning, to be turned off
only after the lights are put out at night. More than once when people
invited us to their homes after a concert, I noticed that even before
they switched on the light they turned the knob on the radio. It always
filled me with awe to see how completely this piece of machinery
dominates our homes. Let's turn off the radio so that we may discover our
own voices in an evening of song.
From years of experience here in America we know how much fun everybody
gets out of singing "rounds"; so let us begin by singing every round
first in unison; and when everyone knows the melody well enough to hold
his own, in two parts; and later, in three or four--whatever this
particular round calls for.
"Rounds" are performed in the following way One singer, or one group of
singers, starts out. When the score shows the figure "2," the second
singer, or second group, comes in, and so on. One can end rounds in two
different ways: (1) Either everyone keeps on singing the melody and
repeating it until the leader indicates the time to end and the singers
hold the tone marked by a fermata {symbol cannot be used in ASCII text}.
(In the notation of rounds this is what fermata stands for.) (2) Or a
round may be ended in the same manner it began: by having every part sing
their melody twice or three times and then stop, so that the last group
to start singing is the last to finish. Most of the time you can use any
combination of equal or unequal voices for the singing of rounds. Very
soon you will hear these rounds sung throughout the house during dish
washing, during housework--wherever there are two or more people in the
same room--or in summer while weeding in the garden. Singing rounds is
the most natural and easiest way to school the ear for part singing. Here
we give a few songs from our summer program which have become favorites
in many an American home.
WELCOME, WELCOME!
Published in 1849 in Nashville, Tenn., by W. Walker. The "Sacred Nine" in
the text are the Nine Muses. Four Parts.
1. Welcome, welcome ev'ry guest, welcome to our music fest,
2. Music is our pleasant cheer, fills both soul and ravished ear.
3. Sacred Nine teach us thy mood, sweetest notes to be explored.
4. Softly fill the evening air; to complete our concert fair!
SI CANTEMO
Antonio Caldara, 1670-1736. Three Parts
1. Si cantemo la la la cosi l'ore ne passera.
2. La la la, la la la la, la la la la ne passera.
3. La la la, la la la, la la ne passera.
THE NIGHTINGALE
Pammelia: "Musicks Miscellanie," or "Mixed Varietie of Pleasant
Roundelayes," London, 1609. Three Parts.
1. The nightingale, the merry nightingale, she sweetly sits and sings and
sings.
2. The pretty nightingale doe doth trip it to and fro, the wild horse
kicks and flings and flings.
3. The cuckoo he doth fly from tree to tree, and merrily through the
woods cuckoo, cuckoo sings.
THE MUSICIANS
Anonymous. Two Parts.
1. Heaven and earth most surely will perish,
2. Music and Musicians, Music and Musicians,
Music and Musicians always we'll cherish.
THREE GEESE ARE SITTING NEAR
Anonymous. Four Parts.
1. Three geese are sitting near in a barn and without fear.
2. See the farmer's coming with a big stick looming,
3. cries out: Who's here, who's here, who's here?
4. Three geese are sitting near.
QUANDO CONVENIUNT (Gossip Canon)
Anonymous. Sing this round as fast as you are able, let every part sing
the melody twice and then end. Where there are enough people, a charming
effect may be obtained by doubling male and female voices in every part.
Do not forget the dynamic contrast between the first and the second line!
Four Parts.
Quando conveniunt Catharina, Sibille, Camilla, sermones faciunt vel ab
hoc, vel ab hac, vel ab illa.
IF I KNEW
Franz Lachner, 1803-1890. Three Parts.
1. If I knew what you know
and you knew what I know
then I know what you
know and you know what I know.
2. Then I know what you know,
then I know what you know
and you know and you know what I know.
3. If I knew what you know,
and you knew what I know,
then I know what you know,
and you know what I know.
DEATH AND SLEEP
J. Haydn. Four Parts.
Death is a long sleep,
Sleep is short short and passing death.
This doth relieve and that doth heal Life's painful breath.
Death is a long long sleep.
THE WISE MEN
William Lawes, 1602-1645. Three Parts.
1. The Wise Men were but sev'n,
ne'er more shall be fore me:
The Muses were but nine,
the Worthies three times three.
And three merry boys
and three merry boys
and three merry boys are we.
2. The Virtues they are sev'n.
And three the greater be:
The Caesars they were twelve
And the Fatal Sisters three:
And three merry girls
and three merry girls
and three merry girls are we.
THE ST. MARTIN'S CANON
Anonymous, 14th century. From a manuscript of the Monastery in Lambach,
Austria. Three Parts.
Martin, dearest Master, now let us all be gay!
We would do you honor on this your festal day.
The geese are fat and tender, sweet and cool the wine.
We'll boil them and we'll fry them and on them richly dine.
NEW OYSTERS
Three English Street-Cries combines to a Round. From "Pammelia," 1609.
Three Parts.
1. New oysters, new oysters, new oyster, new!
2. Have you any wood to cleave,
Have you any wood to cleave,
Have you any wood to cleave?
3. What kitchen stuff have you maids,
What kitchen stuff have you maids,
What kitchen stuff have you maids?
VIA LA MUSICA!
Michael Praetorius, 1571-1621. Three Parts.
Viva, viva la musica,
viva, viva la musica,
viva la musica!
SING HEAVE AND HO
William Byrd, called the "Father of English Music," 1543-1623.
Hey ho, to the greenwood now let us go, sing heave and ho,
and there shall we find both buck and doe, sing heave and ho,
the hart and hind and the little pretty roe, sing heave and ho.
COME, FOLLOW
John Hilton, 1599-1657. Three parts.
1. Come follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow me!
2. Wither shall I follow, follow, follow, wither shall I follow, follow
Thee?
3. To the greenwood, to the greenwood, to the greenwood, greenwood tree!
FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTON
Text, Robert Burns (1786). Melody, Alexander Hume. If third part is sung
by a male voice, read an octave higher.
1. Flow gently sweet Afton, among thy green braes;
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stockdove whose echo resounds from the hill,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in you thorny dell,
Thou green crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear,
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.
2. Thy crystal stream Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides.
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As gathering sweet flow'rets, she stems thy clear wave.
Flow gently sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
THE ECHO
Padre Martini, 1706-1784. Six Parts.
Ho, through the forest hear the echo ring!
Back it answers: Tra la la la la la,
tra la la, tra la la.
DONA NOBIS PACEM
Anonymous. Three parts.
1. Dona nobis pacem, pacem, dona nobis pacem.
2. Dona nobis pacem, dona nobis pacem.
3. Dona nobis pacem, dona nobis pacem.
WHY DOES LIFE
Antonio Caldara, 1670-1736. Three parts, Andante.
1. Why does life bring me nothing but sorrow,
Since I have met you O sweetheart mine?
2. When I am near you, love does torment me,
Far from your presence there's naught but pain.
3. When I am near you, love does torment me,
Far from your presence there's naught but pain.
GOOD NIGHT
American Round. Three parts. Andante e Legato.
1. Good night to you all and sweet be your sleep!
2. May silence surround you, your slumber be deep!
3. Good night, good night, good night, good night!
HOME CONCERTS
What we said about sharing the masterpieces in world literature through
family reading should be said with equal emphasis for the listening to
the masterpieces of the world's music. Young married couples might find
among their wedding gifts a stock of long-playing records--since "hi-fi"
brings Carnegie Hall not only to every town, but practically into every
home!
As the children grow up, they will get used to being cautioned to silence
while father and mother are listening to some symphony, opera, or vocal
concert on the record player. A well-stocked record library makes it easy
for us to arrange for a real concert on Saturday nights (when we don't go
out!) or Sunday afternoons, or special feast-day evenings around the year.
The great oratorios cannot be listened to in one sitting, and understood
and enjoyed at the same time. One section should be played at a time and
played more than once, until the listener grows familiar with each part
and learns to appreciate the whole work. The weeks of Advent are an
excellent period for a study of "The Messiah," and the weeks of Lent for
the "St. Matthew Passion"; then, at the end of the season, at Christmas
and during Holy Week, the entire work will be played in one sitting.
For the Christmas season, there are the Christmas carols by the Robert
Shaw Chorale; the Christmas music of early Italian composers, played by
"I Virtuosi di Roma," or the two records "Christmas with the Trapp
Family." Lent might be the time for Negro spirituals, for the oratorio
(for example, "The Seven Last Words" by Haydn or the "German Requiem" of
Brahms) or for Mozart's Great Mass in C Minor.
We have had considerable experience with people who viewed our selection
of records with great suspicion and when exposed to such a "concert at
home," were preparing themselves to be "bored to death with that
long-haired music," only to exclaim afterwards, "But that is beautiful!"
For those who want to start the experiment, here are four works which are
so captivating, even to the untrained ear, that everybody without
exception has enjoyed them at first hearing:
Mozart, Quintet for Clarinet & Strings in A Major, K. 581
Mozart, Quartet for Oboe & Strings Mozart, "Eine kleine Nachtmusik"
Haydn, Concerto for Trumpet & Orchestra in D Major
Here are some program suggestions for such "Concerts at Home," which of
course each family will vary to suit its tastes:
Respighi, "Suite of Ancient Arias and Dances"
Mozart, Symphony in D Major ("Prague")
* * *
Bach, Brandenburg Concerto I in F Major
Schubert, Quintet for Strings in C Major, op. 163
(one of the most moving, most beautiful works of all time)
* * *
Mozart, "Eine kleine Nachtmusik"
Schubert, Symphony No. 8 in B Minor ("Unfinished")
* * *
Mozart, Serenade in E Flat Major
Schubert, Symphony No. 7 in C Major ("Great")
The prejudice so many have against operas could easily be overcome by
first getting acquainted with their texts. For a few cents one can get
"The Pocket Book of Great Operas" by Henry W. Simon and Abraham Veinus,
(Pocket Books, Inc., New York, 1949). There one can find the story of the
most popular operas, and that is the first gate to cross. Then we suggest
that you listen to one act at a time, and read first the story (which
nearly every album includes with the records) and then the libretto,
following the original text and translation until you are thoroughly
familiar with it and can enjoy the whole without a book or translation.
Operas suggested for family enjoyment are Mozart's "The Magic Flute,"
Wagner's "Die Meistersinger," Verdi's "Aida;" and the children in
particular will delight in Humperdinck's "Hansel and Gretel" and
Menotti's "Amahl and the Night Visitors," which is especially appropriate
for the Christmas season.
If you wish to end such an evening on a lighter vein, add one of the
great waltzes by Johann Strauss in the authentic, wonderful performance
of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra.
"ONCE UPON A TIME"
Among the arts that are dying out rapidly in our machine age, the one
most in danger is the art of story-telling. In other generations it was
quite natural that every mother would tell her little ones a story at
bed-time, or when a child didn't feel well, or on Sundays and feast days.
Those were the times when mothers were really busy, when they had to
light a fire in the kitchen stove, to wash their laundry by hand, to shop
every morning and carry their marketing home--sometimes over long
distances--when they were sewing the children's clothes and mending and
darning in the evening. But there was always time left to tell a story.
There is no substitute for story-telling. The reading of books, privately
or aloud, the listening to radio and watching television--all these
devices cannot replace one single, live story told around the fireplace
or on the front porch on a summer night, or after the bonfire has died
down.
Admittedly, it is not an easy art. Many people have found that out and
have given up before trying hard enough.
A lot of story-telling has gone on in our house. My husband was a master
of it. When he started to tell about his trip around the world in an
old-fashioned frigate as a cadet first class, or of his participation in
the Boxer Rebellion in China when he was nineteen, or of his adventures
in the first newly invented, poorly constructed submarines, we all would
sit spellbound, oblivious of time.
Once we spent a delightful summer with Robert Flaherty and his family. He
was another master of this forgotten art. Almost every night, on the lawn
in front of his Vermont home, he told about his experiences with the
Eskimos, or with the South Sea people--again banishing time.
One is always sure of captivating an audience with ghost stories. There
are plenty of true ghost stories--one just has to look for them--true
because they might tell of an experience with the world beyond.
It isn't so much what we tell--as long as we are willing to revive this
forgotten art. Our Lord gives us an example. Some of the most beautiful
stories ever told come from Him--the story of the Prodigal Son, of
Lazarus, of the Good Samaritan.
And now we have reached the most important point of all. When sermons or
devotional books tell us that the Christian family should fashion itself
on the example of the Holy Family, this usually refers to the spiritual
life only. "If there were more mothers like Mary and more fathers like
Joseph, there would be more children like Jesus," it is said, Mary being
thought of as the holy handmaid of the Lord, Joseph as the man nearest to
God, and the Infant "subject unto them." Nowhere have I seen that thought
extended to the whole of our family life, calling us to model our
recreations, also, on the example of the Holy Family. It is not at all
likely that Jesus, Mary, and Joseph would have gone to some of the shows
in our movie theatres or into any one of our night clubs or the average
Broadway show. It is quite probable, however, that there was
story-telling, singing, and discussion going on in the evenings in the
little house in Nazareth; and why shouldn't they have played games with
the little Boy and His friends, or listened to music played on the quaint
ancient instruments by some neighbors? Joseph may have read to his
family, and whenever they accepted an invitation to a wedding of one of
their kinfolk, they certainly participated in the solemn dancing which
formed part of any oriental wedding ceremony.
A word from the Book of Wisdom is often applied to Our Lord or to His
Holy Mother: "My joy it is to be with the children of men." Should we
limit this "togetherness" to one hasty half-hour on Sundays, from eleven
to eleven-thirty? Knowing that it means such joy for them, let us invite
the Holy Family to stay with us throughout the days of the week,
throughout the years of our life when we work or pray and also when we
play.
Our Life--A Feast
Everything from booklets to tomes is being written, in alarmingly
increasing numbers, on one topic the deterioration of family life and
what to do about it. As one looks over those more or less learned
treatises, however, one misses one phrase--family feasts--and yet that
makes all the difference. Why have homes more and more turned into places
where a group of people merely happen to live under one roof, each member
going his separate way, sharing nothing with the others? The answer is
that they lack family feasts.
Holy Mother Church knows that in all families, no matter how seriously
they strive for perfection, how honestly they all want to become saints,
there are times when parents or children alike may lose their temper, may
give way to selfishness or possessiveness, when the mother makes
imprudent judgments, children give in to self-pity, and everybody gets
fed up. That may, and does, happen to all of us. Why? Because we are all
created alike. We have inherited original sin and we suffer from the
scars of the old wound. But the Church has given us the feast and has
taught us how to celebrate, and it is the hallmark of a feast that it
cannot be celebrated by a solitary individual. There has to be a group.
It is the feast that helps to keep the family together.
This is true from the very beginning of family life. From the weekly
celebration of the Day of the Lord, and from the yearly cycle of feasts
of Christmastide and Paschaltide, the young parents have learned how to
celebrate. As the children are coming along and witness how beautifully
the father celebrates the feast days of the mother--her birthday, her
baptismal day, the feast of her patron saint, their wedding
anniversary--and when they see with how much love the mother prepares the
great days of the father--then the children come to experience a feeling
of security which they will need so greatly in later life--the warmth of
the nest which the young bird needs before he can spread his own wings.
This is how it starts. The father draws the attention of the children to
the coming feast days of the mother, and the mother does the same for the
father. The older sisters and brothers teach the little ones. There is
always a lot of secrecy around our house in the days before a feast, a
lot of whispering and preparations behind closed doors. "Before a
birthday, there's a prickle in the air like ginger ale," said one of my
children once.
In order to keep a record of all the various feasts--no mean achievement
in as large a family as ours--my daughter Rosemary has devised an
"Anniversary Calendar," one page of which is here reproduced. (Anyone
with a knack for drawing can attempt something similar as a homemade
gift!)
THE BIRTHDAY
There are the birthdays. I suppose there are as many ways of celebrating
a birthday as there are families, or even as there are individuals. In
our family some of our children, pointing out that the big feasts in the
year have a vigil, insisted that their birthday should be celebrated the
evening before so that they could have the full day following in which to
be the center of attention in the house. Some prefer their birthdays to
be celebrated at breakfast; others, during lunch. That should be up to
the individual. For days, sometimes for weeks, the preparations are going
on. If everybody, as it should be, is supposed to make something for
everybody else's birthday, this--and I cannot stress it enough--will
bring out hidden talents in the family. We only found out by chance that
one of our children is gifted in leather work that another one makes
beautiful woodcuts. One of the boys turned out to be a good silversmith,
and one of the girls is working in clay. If the children are given a
chance to try this or that handicraft, they are sure to discover some
special gift. And the most gifted cook, of course, is entrusted with
preparing the birthday cake.
In our family we have two favorite birthday cakes. Number One is that
famous Viennese "Sacher Torte."
Sacher Torte
4 oz. butter 7 eggs
4 oz. sugar 1 cup bread flour
4 oz. softened bittersweet 2 tbsp. fine bread crumbs
chocolate
Beat butter, sugar, and softened chocolate together. Add one egg yolk at
a time. Beat 7 egg whites until peaks stand up straight. Add to mixture.
Then add bread flour and bread crumbs. Mix in by hand with rubber
spatula. Bake slowly in well-greased, floured cake tin. When cool, cut in
half horizontally. Spread apricot jam on lower half. Cover with upper
half and spread evenly with apricot jam. Let dry for a while.
Icing: In upper part of double boiler melt 3 oz. bitter chocolate, 2 oz.
sweet chocolate, 3 oz. butter. Add 1/3 cup of cream. Stir. Remove from
heat. Add 1/2 box sifted confectioner's sugar. Pour icing on the torte
and spread around sides with spatula.
Number Two is "Linzer Torte."
Linzer Torte
1 cup butter 2 tsp. cinnamon
1-1/2 cups flour 1/4 tsp. salt
1 cup sugar 1/2 tsp. cloves
2 egg yolks 1 cup ground nuts or almonds
1 tsp. baking powder 1 tbsp. orange or lemon peel
Sift flour and baking powder together onto a pastry board. Add butter,
sugar, egg yolks, orange or lemon peel, nuts, cinnamon, cloves, and salt.
Mix by hand and chill. Pat 2/3 of dough into layer-cake tin and spread
with a layer of currant preserve. Roll remaining 1/3 of dough into strips
as thick as a finger. With this, form a lattice work on top of preserve.
Bake in medium oven 350-375 degrees F. until edges recede from sides.
Now to the celebration itself. A small table is covered with a white
cloth. The birthday cake with the candles is put in the middle and the
gifts are placed around it. The whole household--family, helpers,
guests--stand in a semicircle, each one holding a flower or a piece of
evergreen, according to the season. Then the mother goes to fetch the
birthday child. "Happy Birthday to You" is sung until the hero of the day
has been congratulated and kissed by everyone. In the process, he gathers
his little bouquet. Then he thinks of a wish and blows out the candles
(in one breath!), and then he looks at the gifts. (One of the first
birthday presents, when the children were quite small, was a puppet
theatre. With each birthday new puppets were added and all the favorite
fairy tales could be enacted.)
The birthday child's place at table is decorated
artistically--differently at each meal--and he decides what the day's and
the evening's entertainment will be--games, or folk dancing, or perhaps
an excursion. Whatever it is, we all are at his or her disposal.
BAPTISMAL DAY
More important than our real birthday, the anniversary of the moment when
our mother gave us our physical life, is the anniversary of the moment
when we received the life of our soul as children of God. Why should we
not start a new tradition in our young families, following an ancient
custom of the first centuries where the Christians were much more imbued
with awe for that great Sacrament of Baptism? We should start to
celebrate the baptismal days of our children, to which we should invite
the godparents and anyone else who had been present at the baptism of
that child. If the godparents cannot come, they might be asked to write a
letter each year to their godchild, thus keeping the spiritual
relationship alive. In the time of our great-grandparents such letters
were reverently kept through life. That's why it is so important to
choose godparents who can be relied upon to take their spiritual
fatherhood and motherhood seriously.
When the children are little, we should tell them of their baptismal day
in the form of a story. Later, we should go with them through the
ceremonies and rites of the Sacrament of Baptism. We should take them, if
at all possible, back to the baptismal font and there solemnly renew with
them the baptismal vows. At the end of such a day the whole family might
gather and sing solemnly, "Holy God, We Praise Thy Name," or another hymn
of thanksgiving.
If on birthdays all kinds of secular gifts are given, on the baptismal
day we might give, gradually, all that our children require for their
spiritual life a missal, starting with a small missal for children, until
they finally get the unabridged "Missale Romanum;" the New Testament;
later the complete Bible; a holy water font; a crucifix; blessed candles
for their little altar in their private corner. On this day, the
baptismal candle should be taken out and put in a candlestick. The white
garment which the child wore at his baptism and which we should keep for
him should also be taken out, and the children should be reminded of the
intention underlying the Church's words:
"Receive this burning light and safeguard thy baptism by a blameless
life. Keep the Commandments of God that when Our Lord shall come to claim
His own, thou mayest be worthy to greet Him with all the saints in the
heavenly court and live forever and ever. Amen.
"Receive this white garment which thou mayest wear without stain before
the judgment seat of Our Lord, Jesus Christ, that thou mayest have life
everlasting. Amen."
If only we would start this tradition right now, and if the godparents
could be persuaded to see their role on such a day, what a beautiful.
solemn and sacred day it might become in our families!
THE FEAST OF THE PATRON SAINT
Another feast day has fallen more and more into oblivion, and that is the
celebration of the feast of our patron saints, in other words, our feast
days. Alas, instead of choosing the names of the saints which are given
to us by the Church as our patrons, as our big brothers and sisters, our
protectors and intercessors--more and more people choose names of their
own invention which have no relationship to Christianity. I know of one
young mother who called her little daughter in honor of her own alma
mater, "University of Texas"; I know another family who gave one of their
boys the name of the place where they had a summer cabin; and a third one
of our acquaintances called their little child, hoping it would make her
a musician, "Melody."
This is a good moment for us parents to make an examination of
conscience--by what principles do we choose the names of our children? Do
we think of the saint, or do we think of the sound of the name, or are we
persuaded by the fact that the godfather or the godmother might be
offended if we didn't choose his or her name, although we really don't
care much for it? It is a heavy responsibility to choose one of the
greatest spiritual beings for the guidance and protection of our children.
The day of the patron saint is celebrated on a somewhat smaller scale
than a birthday. The gifts have some relation to the patron saint--books,
pictures, legends pertaining to him are collected throughout the years.
Again the feast-day child has his own say about the evening's program.
And here let me mention a thing which cannot be sufficiently stressed:
that we parents have to have enough time to play with our children. We
have to know their games. The very fact that so many mothers and fathers
nowadays find no time any more to join in games with their little
children is the very beginning of the breakdown of modern families. In
the first seven years of a child's life the child either grows away from
his parents, or a strong tie is formed.
Merely by observing, one finds out that children play different games at
different seasons of the year. Only in the fall do they want to run
around with kites or play cops and robbers. In the spring, when they can
get out after a long winter, they are on swings, climbing trees, jumping
rope, and trying their skill on stilts. In the summer, obviously because
of the heat, they prefer more quiet games, if possible water games and
ball games; while the winter finds them around the table with checkers
and dominoes, rummy, and, nowadays, scrabble, and all kinds of guessing
games, until a good snowfall allows them to go out with their skis and
sleds.
It is most important also for fathers to know the seasonal character of
the games of the little ones. Just as the birds build their nests in the
spring and start for their long flight in the fall, so it seems the
children carry an old instinct and have to live accordingly. You can't
make them play indoor games in spring!
All the "firsts" might be celebrated in a festive way.
For a little child, it is a big and important day when he goes, for the
first time in his young life, to school. This we have turned into a
family feast. The mother goes shopping for school books and all the
immensely important little paraphernalia, and accompanies the child for
the first time on this important trip, which marks a new chapter in its
life. It is the first step towards "coming of age."
FIRST CONFESSION
Then there is the first Confession. To turn such a day into a "holy day"
we parents should prepare ourselves for it by special study and much
prayer in order to be able to give the child an even deeper understanding
of what he is going to do when he kneels down and confesses--not to
Father So-and-So, but to God, Himself--all the wrongs that cloud his
young conscience. When he is going to hear for the first time the
momentous words, "Thy sins are forgiven!" we help him realize with chalk
and blackboard what will happen to him. We write down a list of sins such
as a child may commit, and then we take a wet cloth and erase them
completely and ask the child, "Can you still read what was there? Just
like this God will erase your sins from His memory. He will forgive them
completely." We cannot do enough to impress the young soul with the
tremendous happening at the moment of the "Ego te absolve." Of course,
the child should remember the day of his first Confession and always
later celebrate this anniversary as a private feast day just between
himself and God.
FIRST HOLY COMMUNION
Then comes the great day when the young soul is for the first time
invited to the heavenly banquet--the day of the first Holy Communion. It
is a pity that this sacred day so often degenerates into a show, the
child being showered with gifts and distracted with amusements, so that
this solemn, holy feast turns into a day of much outward excitement.
Again, there is much we Christian parents have to learn to do better. The
preparation for this day, the first Holy Communion of our children,
should be a holy rite and duty for every mother. We can learn from the
family of St. Therese of Lisieux how the older sisters saw to it that the
younger ones were prepared sufficiently for their great day. Of course,
the whole family should join the child at the Communion Mass, everybody
wearing his Sunday dress. Not only the table, but the house or apartment
should be decorated. For the rest of his life the child will remember
this day. Instead of many worthless trinkets, one might buy one real
gift, either a beautiful medal or little cross to wear around the child's
neck, or a picture for his room, a reproduction of the old masters, or a
beautiful statue. These are formative years, and it is our privilege to
school the taste of our children, directing them away from the sweetish,
coy plaster art, toward genuine art.
CONFIRMATION
Another great day is the day of Confirmation, the spiritual coming of age
of the young Christian. Much could we learn here from the Orthodox Jewish
families and their way of celebrating the Bar-Mitzvah on the boy's
thirteenth birthday, when he becomes of age before the law. The coming of
the Holy Ghost, the sacrament of holy ordination for us lay people,
cannot receive enough attention. It is a great joy to help the child
prepare for this, his very own, Pentecost. With him we study the "Gifts
of the Holy Ghost" and the "Fruits of the Holy Ghost"; we read together
such books as Father Grandmaison's "We and the Holy Spirit" or the
chapters pertaining to the Holy Ghost in "The Spiritual Life" by Adolphe
Tanquerey; unforgettable hours are thus spent, in which we accompany our
sons and daughters on their road to spiritual maturity.
We have always tried to mark the day of Confirmation by a gift or event
which stresses the new status of the child as a person capable of
independence and responsibility; f.i., by giving him a desk of his own,
or, if possible, a room of his own. (It is significant that it is the
custom to give a watch on Confirmation Day, to remind the young Christian
that from now on he is responsible for the use of his time.)
These are the commanding high points in the lives of the young, and I
feel that one can never do enough to make them into memorable events,
keeping them alive in the memory of our children by celebrating the
anniversaries of these days.
Children who have experienced the joy of being feasted will want to
reciprocate. All the love and attention that is showered on them they
will try to return just as lovingly and gratefully as their young hearts
prompt them to do.
WEDDING ANNIVERSARY
In the first years, while the children are still very young, mother and
father will celebrate the wedding anniversary by themselves. But as the
children grow older, they should be allowed to participate in this great
family feast--the day beginning with Holy Communion for all, followed by
a feast-day breakfast. Afterwards, one might talk with them about the
character of matrimony, and read with them the nuptial blessing and the
blessing of the wedding ring. This implants in the young ones a deep
respect for this great sacrament, and fosters a reverent attitude toward
each other in the hearts of boys and girls.
EMBER DAYS
Alas, the holy seasons of the Ember Days, which recur four times a year
at the beginning of spring, summer, fall and winter, are no longer
observed as they were in the old Church, namely as days of ordination of
our priests when the Church wants her faithful to remember her priests by
prayer and sacrifice. Nowadays, we have "Priest's Saturday," which takes,
somewhat, the place of those very holy seasons. Ember Saturday, which was
the day of the final ordinations, is the day when we might explain the
sacrament of Holy Orders to the children. On the evenings of these
Saturdays, after preparation for the Mass, we could tell them about the
holiness of priesthood and sisterhood, about our Holy Father, the Pope,
about the cardinals and bishops, and particularly about our own
bishop--our true representative of Christ. We could remind them to
remember the Pope, the bishop, and all the priests in their daily
prayers. If it is at all possible, we might have them participate in the
yearly ordination ceremonies, a great liturgical experience.
GRADUATION DAYS
Time goes by quickly. And though it appears to us mothers as if it were
only yesterday that we took our little child on his first walk to school,
graduation days are fast approaching--from grade school, from high
school, from college. Each one of these days we celebrate as a family
feast. This gives us an opportunity to talk to our children about their
future, and to try to counteract, with all the weight of our affection,
the influence of the world which holds out to the young the promise of
"how to earn the most money." We impress on our children the meaning of
the word "vocation," which is not restricted to priesthood or the
religious life. "Vocare" means "to call," and every person on earth is
called by God to a special place where He wants him or her. It may be
that of a nurse or a teacher, of a salesman, of a worker in a plant or a
missionary in Africa--but there is that particular place and we have to
find it. One of the main reasons why there are today so many frustrated
people is that most of them never managed to discover their true place in
life. But if a girl is called to be a nurse, she will be very unhappy as
a secretary, even if she has a much easier life. If someone is called to
be a teacher, he will never be really satisfied as a business man, no
matter how successful. In revealing to the children the great mystery of
the vocation, we help to prepare them to make the right choice in life.
The only question in the young mind should be What is the will of God?
Where does He want me? Only by finding the place God has prepared for us
will we be really efficient and happy.
EXTREME UNCTION
Among the seven sacraments there is one for which most people have lost
the proper understanding--the sacrament of Extreme Unction, the great
friend of all the sick. Unfortunately, it has become known as the
sacrament of the dying. Out of a mistaken consideration for the sick, in
order "not to excite him," he is all too often made to believe he really
isn't very sick at all. When illness finally takes a turn for the worst,
the poor patient is often no longer able to follow the deeply consoling
prayers and rites of this great sacrament. But if it is introduced to
children early in life, as one of the greatest gifts of God, there will
be no fear.
All Souls' Day lends itself by its very character to a meditation on the
last things. This is the day on which we show our children how one
prepares a table for administering Extreme Unction. The first time I do
this myself, telling the children to watch carefully, as next year they
will have to prepare it. I show them in which drawer I keep the crucifix
and the blessed candles and the linen cloth which is spread over the
little table. Then I prepare a little jar with water and on a plate six
pieces of clean white cotton wool with which the different parts of the
body will be wiped after anointing. Another empty plate is put out on
which the cotton wool will be placed after use. I also show the children
where the baptismal candles or the blessed candles are kept which should
be lit at the hour of death. Then we tell them about our last wishes,
which prayers we would like to hear, which hymns to have sung, which
garment we wish to wear as our last. We discuss these matters once a year
in our family, and the horror that usually accompanies last sickness and
death diminishes greatly. With all the practical details settled in our
minds, there is greater calm and acceptance of the inevitable when the
final hours come. We also promise the children that we will not delay to
ask the priest, and make them promise to do the same for us. After this
yearly discussion, we take the texts of the sacrament of Extreme Unction
and read them through once. The opening prayers are deeply soothing,
addressed to the family rather than to the sick themselves:
"Let us pray. O Lord, Jesus Christ, let there enter this house with the
entrance of our lowliness, eternal happiness, divine prosperity, serene
gladness, fruitful charity, everlasting health; may there fly from this
place all approach of the demons; let the angels of peace be present and
all ill-feeling and discord leave this house. Make Thy Name great over
us, O Lord, and bless our ministry, hallow the entrance of our lowliness,
Thou Who art holy, Thou Who art kind and abideth with the Father and the
Holy Ghost, world without end.
"Let us pray and beseech Our Lord, Jesus Christ, that He would fill this
dwelling with blessing and all that dwell therein and send them a good
angel to be their guardian and make them His servants to study the
wonders of His law; may He turn them from all contrary powers; may He
save them from alarm and disturbance and vouchsafe to keep them in health
in this dwelling Who, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, liveth and
reigneth world without end. Amen.
"Let us pray. Hear O Lord, Holy Father, Almighty and Eternal God, and
vouchsafe to send Thy holy angel from heaven to watch over, to cherish,
protect, visit and guard all them that dwell in this house, through
Christ, Our Lord. Amen."
These first prayers haven't even touched on sickness and death yet. They
pray for the peace and happiness of all who dwell in the house. Only then
is the "Confiteor" said and then the priest turns to those present in the
sick room and asks them to pray for the sick person during the
administration of the sacrament. Then he says,
"In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Let
there be extinguished in thee all power of the devil by the imposition of
our hands and by the invocation of all holy Angels, Archangels,
Patriarchs, Prophets, Apostles, Martyrs, Confessors, virgins and of all
the Saints together. Amen."
After this the sacrament proper is administered--Holy Unction. The
Fathers of the Church tell us that, by this Holy Unction, not only all
sins of our whole life, even the ones we might have forgotten to mention
in Confession, are forgiven, but also the remission of temporal
punishment is obtained. Now the priest takes the holy oil and anoints the
sick person on the closed eyes, the ears, the nose, the mouth, hands and
feet, while he says, "By this holy unction and His own most gracious
mercy may the Lord forgive thee whatever sin thou hast committed by
sight, hearing, smell, taste, speech, touch. Amen," repeating this holy
formula each time as he touches the respective part of the person's body.
We never fail to read the most consoling prayer to be said after death:
"Come to his assistance all ye Saints of God, meet him all ye Angels of
God, receiving his soul, offering it in the sight of the Most High. May
Christ receive thee Who has called thee and may the angels conduct thee
to Abraham's bosom, receiving thy soul and offering it in the sight of
the Most High."
This prayer is followed by the first recital of "Eternal rest give unto
him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. Let him rest in
peace." Later, the Church, this true mother, turns to those who are
present, knowing that this is a heartrending moment for them, and she
prays:
"Grant, O God, that while we lament the departure of this, Thy servant,
we may always remember that we are most certainly to follow him, and give
us grace to prepare for that last hour by a good life, that we may not be
surprised by a sudden and unprovided death, but be ever watching that,
when Thou shalt call, we may with the Bridegroom enter into eternal
glory, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen."
If death is approached in this spirit, we can only exclaim with the
Church at Easter "O Death, where is thy victory? O Death, where is thy
sting?"
It is very important that we should make our family aware of the festive
character surrounding the administration of Holy Unction. In a way it is
a farewell gathering in honor of a beloved on the point of leaving for a
faraway country. We know we shall see him again, but we do not know the
hour, and we wish him Godspeed with all our hearts.
Here we come to realize the true reason why the Church takes so much
pains to teach us how to celebrate, how to live life as one long,
uninterrupted solemn feast. She does this so that, on the crucial day, we
should be able to apply the wisdom gathered over a long time and to
celebrate as the greatest feast of all our departure for the heavenly
Jerusalem. If we show our children in time the festive side of this great
sacrament, we may be sure that, when the day comes, they will not kneel
around our bed sobbing and crying, but all of us together will be able to
answer the priest with a peaceful heart. "If you love me," we should say
to our dear ones in the words of Our Lord, "you should rejoice with me
because I am going to the Father." This is the spirit in which we should
talk about death in our families.
In my life, rich in sickness and operations, I have received the
sacrament of Holy Unction more than once. Each time I experienced the
same profound peace--like homecoming after a stormy journey, and--each
time I recovered! I am absolutely sure that these recoveries were due to
a great extent to this very peace brought about by complete relaxation
and abandonment to the will of God, which freed all mental energy for
healing rather than wasting it in worry and anxiety.
And if one gets up from a sickbed after holy anointing--what a wonderful
feeling! It is a new beginning. All sins were forgiven more thoroughly
than ever in the sacrament of Penance; even the temporal punishment
accumulated throughout one's life--that also is gone. Now, after having
passed so closely by this last door, one appreciates more fully another
chance to do better and to start with a clean slate.
THE CROSS
On the third of May the Church has us celebrate the feast of the Finding
of the Cross. It is connected with the old tradition that the Empress
Helena discovered the True Cross of Christ in the fourth century and
built a church on that place. We may rest assured that this legend alone
would not be reason enough for Holy Mother Church to install not only one
but two feasts. For in September we celebrate the Exaltation of the Holy
Cross. What the Church wants to bring home to us is this that we must
take the word of Our Lord seriously: "Whosoever wants to become my
disciple, let him take up his cross and follow Me."
When we celebrate these feasts of the Cross in May and September in our
family, this leads to talk about the different crosses in our life, small
ones, big ones. When the children were little, we pointed out to them
that having a slight headache or a running nose or an aching stomach is
not a nuisance to be complained about. It is the form my daily cross
takes today. Yesterday it might have been very bad weather when I was
ready to go for a hike; or it might have been a most irritable and cranky
mother who taxed the patience of the family. Tomorrow it might be....And
so we enumerate the different disguises under which the daily cross can
show itself in our lives. Invariably we come to talk about the day when
the cross would be a very heavy one, when one of our beloved
ones--mother, father, sister, or brother--would be taken away from us. In
this manner, also, we prepare our minds in advance for these happenings,
and again we stress to the children that the day of our death on earth
should be regarded as our true birthday, our birthday in heaven, which we
should never begrudge to anyone we love. We should think of our dead as
of ones who have won the battle and have gone to their eternal reward,
out of reach of harm. Even if we could do so, we should not wish them
back.
FAMILY RETREATS
If it is at all possible--and it's amazing how many things are possible
where there is a will--families should try to take a few days off
together every year for a family retreat. If we have to stand the heat of
noonday together, we should also be together when we ask and receive help.
Though absolute silence is generally recommended during retreats, we have
found them the right time to talk with our children on subjects that
concern them deeply and intimately. For instance, on the mysteries of
childbirth. Why should we wait for strangers--doctors or teachers--to
give our children sex talks in school when this touches on the most
sacred precincts in our life? The way in which such knowledge comes to a
child can make it or break it, and as no one can know a child as
intimately as the parents do, we should guard this instruction as our
most indisputable right. Another important topic with our adolescent
children were the threefold vocations--to the married life, to the
priesthood, to the unmarried life in the world. We tried to make them
aware that one of the three is the state in which God wants them to spend
their life and that it was up to them and their untiring prayer to find
out the right one. If God wanted them in the unmarried state, this, we
pointed out to them, had to be a sacrifice brought knowingly,
voluntarily, willingly. If, however, they found that God called them to
the married state, we did all in our power to keep them from taking this
lightly. The contemporary craze for "going steady" when young people are
much too young to make such weighty decisions, having blind dates, etc.,
is unwholesome and dangerous. With the Hollywood version of love set up
on all sides before them, we tried to make them realize the true nature
of love--a love that is stronger than death. And as it is sometimes
easier to make one's point by a concrete example, we would show them a
fruit picked fresh from the tree, a plum or a peach with that light fuzz
on it as a sign that it had not been handled. Then we would pass such a
fruit around the table, each one holding it for a time. When it came back
to the first person, it was still a perfectly good plum--not worm-eaten,
nothing wrong with it, and still--it didn't look appetizing. It lacked
the bloom of freshness. It was too much handled. Girls and boys who
change their partners frequently, talking love and acting it in kisses
and hugs--well, there isn't very much wrong with that, anybody might say,
but still it is as with the plum: such a girl, such a boy, has lost this
indescribable freshness; he or she no longer comes untouched from the
hands of God. Young people readily understand what we mean by that.
ENGAGEMENT AND WEDDING
We felt that such talks were indispensable, that we owed them to our
children, especially in a time when sex assails them through
advertisements, in magazines, newspapers, television, radio--wherever
they turn. They have to get the right bearing, and where should they get
it if not from their parents? They have to be fortified, in order to be
able, when the time comes, to choose a partner for life. If they have
been brought up from their earliest years to do nothing, however
insignificant, without first considering whether it conformed with the
will of God--and this is something only to be found out in prayer--when
they reach their twenties they will most certainly apply this most
important lesson for this most important decision. Is he--is she--the one
with whom I can become a saint more quickly than alone? This was the
final test adopted in our family. (It leaves out of consideration, as
points of much less importance, such questions as: "What is his job?"
"How much is he earning?" "What does he look like?" "Is she pretty?" "Is
she musical?" etc., etc.) When this one question has been answered with
"Yes," our young people decide to get engaged before the Church. In the
old country it is the custom that the boy and girl give each other
engagement rings. These rings are blessed by the priest, not as solemnly
as the wedding ring, but the blessing turns them from ordinary rings into
a sacramental. While they put these rings on each other's finger, they
pronounce solemnly their intention to marry and this solemn promise binds
them before God and men. Of course, this is a family feast and a day of
great rejoicing for everybody. The two young people sit in the place of
honor and are showered with presents from the family. These are the gifts
they get before the invitations are sent out and wedding presents start
to arrive from the outside.
As every member of every family is an individual, unlike anybody else,
the ways of celebrating such an engagement were different with each
child. Some of our children wanted a very quiet celebration, and "no
guests, please." Others, however, wanted a hilarious evening after the
solemnity in church, with folk dancing and punch and games and lots of
fun. That is why one can never rely on a handbook treating how to
celebrate feasts. So much depends on the individuality of the people who
do the celebrating.
The days between engagement and wedding are dedicated to
preparations--but not, first and foremost, as the world seems to
emphasize in all the magazines "for the bride," on the preparation of the
material goods alone--furniture, household utensils, dresses, dresses,
and more dresses. Our first concern is with laying a solid foundation for
the couple's new life. For this, we set aside a first preparation period
right after the engagement, and an immediate preparation during the last
days before the wedding. During the first preparation period, we have the
young couple discuss with the parents (as a rule the parents of the
bride) all the important facets of family life. This we do on the
evenings of a full week. The discussions include, of course, the prayer
life of a family--morning prayer, grace before and after meals, evening
prayer; a resolution to say the rosary together at least at certain times
of the year (such as during May, the month of Mary; during October, the
month of the rosary; during November, for the souls of the departed; on
all the eves of a feast of Mary). We speak about preparation for Mass
before Sundays and great feast days; about pilgrimages--all such
devotions being family devotions. And we tell the young people that
later, when children arrive, they should be associated with the prayer
life of the family as soon as possible, even if they do not yet
understand what it is all about. The young soul will always respond to
the atmosphere of prayer.
Another topic on these evenings is the daily cross, which will never be
found wanting--how to prepare for it, how to meet it, how to learn to
carry it ungrudgingly and willingly, and as long as possible with a
smile. Such an attitude, we tell them, will keep a marriage from getting
"on the rocks."
And of course we talk about love--what its true nature is, and what it is
not. The thirteenth chapter of the First Epistle of St. Paul to the
Corinthians is as good a guide in this respect as any.
Then there is the imitation of Christ in the life of a family. "I have
given you an example and I want you to do as I have done" is an excellent
motto for a young family. To keep one's eye on the Lord, to get used to
the idea of saying, "What would He do now? What would He say in my
place?" provides the most reliable method for bringing up children.
Evidently each of the young, boy and girl, have their special problems
and questions, and their own ideas to discuss; and the family into which
he or she marries will each have their own views to bring out. The
essential thing for us, however, was and is that there should be a full
week set aside for such a first preparation for married life, as a
meeting not only of the hearts but also of the minds.
Then comes the time when the young bride prepares her bridal gown. In our
family this important garment is prepared at home, with the help of the
mother and sisters. This may sound very old-fashioned, but the hours
spent in loving work together seem to us very precious, and many loving
thoughts and resolutions are stitched into the bridal gown.
The weeks pass, perhaps the months, and the time for the wedding itself
approaches. The first few days of the week preceding the wedding we
reserve for the last and most important talks. Throughout their young
lives the young people have received all the information on sex necessary
to the stages in their development. Strangely enough these seem to come
in cycles of seven: when the child is seven years old it is ready for its
first story about God sending the child and letting it grow under the
mother's heart for nine months, until she gives it life with great pain.
This first talk creates a firm bond between mother and child. About seven
years later the child is on the threshold of puberty and needs more
enlightenment and instruction. Now it has to face the realities of sex,
and learn how to deal with its problems. This instruction should be
frank, clear, and explicit. We cannot afford to leave our children in
ignorance in times such as ours. This information need not be given in
one discussion only. We have always given our children the opportunity of
asking questions as they came to their minds.
But during the last days before the wedding, a new kind of approach seems
to be called for. Now is the moment to speak of the union of husband and
wife as a fulfillment, as a source of joy. Too many of our manuals are
one-sided in their discussion of sex. We should tell our children of the
true value and the God-givenness of healthy and sound sex life--though
not for its own sake. We should try to make them see it as a symbol of
the greatest thing in creation: as our soul longs to be one with God, as
all our striving for perfection is toward that one end--our union with
God--we have a perfect symbol for this fusion in the most intimate union
of husband and wife. In this light only does sex life find its true
evaluation and place.
I have always deplored the fact that there is a tendency among certain
writers and theologians to put a stigma on the married state in its
relation to holiness. These people seem to regret that certain saints
were married; if they could hush it up, they no doubt would. But there is
no getting around it there was a St. Catherine of Genoa, a St. Monica and
a St. Elizabeth of Hungary, a great St. Louis of France, and the
excellent family man, St. Thomas More, to mention only a few among many,
many others. I feel that the Church has placed these great heroic figures
in the forefront of the canonized saints in order to assure us that
sanctity is not incompatible with married life. And how absurd such a
thought would be! Only if we see marriage as a great sacrament, the
symbol of the relationship between Christ and the Church, between the
soul and God during all eternity, only then chastity becomes meaningful
as a sacrifice, when marriage is given up voluntarily by our priests and
religious. What good would it be to offer up something second-rate,
something we shouldn't want anyhow? Again, how absurd!
These thoughts belong to our final preparation during the first three
days of the last week. The second three days the young couple retire and
make a retreat, either under the direction of a priest-friend, or, if
this is not possible, by themselves, their discussions on the spiritual
life in the family having provided them with ample food for prayer and
meditation.
In our family, we keep alive an age-old custom, that of telling of the
"Tobias Nights." Father or mother advise the bride and bridegroom-to-be
to read now the book of Tobias. There, in the sixth chapter, the
Archangel Raphael, guardian and friend of young Tobias, admonishes the
young man: "They who in such manner receive matrimony, as to shut out God
from themselves, and from their mind, and to give themselves to their
lust, as the horse and mule, which have no understanding, over them the
devil has power. But thou when thou shalt take her, go into chamber and
for three days keep thyself continent from her, and give thyself to
nothing else but prayers with her." From this passage derives an old
custom that young married couples spend the first three nights in prayer
and meditation together before they start their married life. This may
sound rather startling advice nowadays, but some of my married children
returning from their honeymoon, quite freely spoke about the release from
tension and apprehension it had provided to them. But it should by no
means be taken as a general rule, it is a question of personality.
On the day before the wedding feast our young people return from their
retreat, strengthened in mind and spirit, and ready for the great day.
The evening before the wedding is celebrated, as in the old country, as
the "Polterabend," again a survival from pagan times when the people with
great noise and much singing, chanting, and music wanted to shy away the
evil spirits. The Church has taken over and Christianized this folk
custom. All our guests are invited to come the day before the feast--and
the feast day receives its vigil. There is a festive dinner with the two
young people sitting for the last time each with their parents.
Afterwards, the evening is spent in merrymaking, folk dancing, games, and
music. Around ten o'clock, however, the feast is over and ends with
family evening prayers. Of course, this again varies according to the
wishes of the bride. Once we had only nine guests present, and the last
time, at my youngest daughter Lorli's wedding, we were about a hundred
and forty.
The next morning finds mother and daughter for the last time in their
intimate closeness. Now I assist the bride to put on her bridal gown and
to fasten the veil to her hair. Then she kneels down while the bridal
wreath made of fresh white flowers is placed over the veil, at which time
the solemn words are said "Receive here this symbol of your virginity
which I have helped you to keep intact that you may give it unspotted to
your husband as your greatest gift," to which the daughter answers with a
heartfelt, "Thank you. Praised be God." This is always a moment of deep
emotion. After the last long embrace I sign the forehead of my daughter
with the sign of the Cross and then lead her downstairs, where the
procession is already formed.
In Tyrolia, that part of Austria where I come from, the parish priest
leads the bride to the altar. They are the last couple in the procession,
which is headed by the bridegroom leading the bride's mother. And that's
the way we do it in our family. And so we attend the Nuptial Mass and
listen, deeply moved, to the words of the priest:
"Dear friends in Christ: As you know, you are about to enter into a union
which is most sacred and most serious, a union which was established by
God Himself. By it He gave to man a share in the greatest work of
creation, the work of the continuation of the human race. And in this way
He sanctified human love and enabled man and woman to help each other
live as children of God, by sharing a common life under His fatherly care.
"Because God Himself is thus its author, marriage is of its very nature a
holy institution, requiring of those who enter into it a complete and
unreserved giving of self. But Christ Our Lord added to the holiness of
marriage an even deeper meaning and a higher beauty. He referred to the
love of marriage to describe His own love for His Church, that is, for
the people of God whom He redeemed by His own blood. And so He gave to
Christians a new vision of what married life ought to be, a life of
self-sacrificing love like His own. It is for this reason that His
Apostle, St. Paul, clearly states that marriage is now and for all time
to be considered a great mystery, intimately bound up with the
supernatural union of Christ and the Church, which union is also to be
its pattern.
"This union is most serious, because it will bind you together for life
in a relationship so close and so intimate, that it will profoundly
influence your whole future. That future, with its hopes and
disappointments, its successes and its failures, its pleasures and its
pains, its joys and its sorrows, is hidden from your eyes. You know that
these elements are mingled in every life, and are to be expected in your
own. And so, not knowing what is before you, you take each other for
better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health,
until death.
"Truly, then, these words are most serious. It is a beautiful tribute to
your undoubted faith in each other, that, recognizing their full import,
you are nevertheless so willing and ready to pronounce them. And because
these words involve such solemn obligations, it is most fitting that you
rest the security of your wedded life upon the great principle of
self-sacrifice. And so you begin your married life by the voluntary and
complete surrender of your individual lives in the interest of that
deeper and wider life which you are to have in common. Henceforth you
belong entirely to each other, you will be one in mind, one in heart, and
one in affections. And whatever sacrifices you may hereafter be required
to make to preserve this common life, always make them generously.
Sacrifice is usually difficult and irksome. Only love can make it easy;
and perfect love can make it a joy. We are willing to give in proportion
as we love. And when love is perfect, the sacrifice is complete. God so
loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, and the Son so loved
us that He gave Himself for our salvation. `Greater love than this no man
hath, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'
"No greater blessing can come to your married life than pure conjugal
love, loyal and true to the end. May, then, this love with which you join
your hands and hearts today, never fail, but grow deeper and stronger as
the years go on. And if true love and the unselfish spirit of perfect
sacrifice guide your every action, you can expect the greatest measure of
earthly happiness that may be allotted to man in this vale of tears. The
rest is in the hands of God. Nor will God be wanting to your needs; He
will pledge you the life-long support of His graces in the holy sacrament
which you are now going to receive."
And then we all receive Holy Communion with the new husband and the new
wife. After this ceremony, all friends present can congratulate and wish
God's blessing and happiness with confidence, knowing that the
fulfillment of their wish has already begun.
We see to it that the table is most beautifully decorated--if possible it
should be a sitting-down meal. This is the time for speeches. The father
of the bride will address his daughter and the father of the bridegroom
will address his son. Somebody will thank the friends and the guests for
sharing this great day with the family.
When the meal is over and guests and friends are still standing around,
the young couple disappear quietly. Hand in hand they go over to the
house altar; while the young bride bows her head her husband takes the
white wreath from her. Together they place it at the feet of the Blessed
Mother and make the sign of the cross on each other's forehead. It is the
first act in their new life.
A little later everyone will wave good-bye as they get into the car to
start their journey through life together.
This is one of the beauties of a large family: when the older ones leave
the house to marry, the younger ones take their places, and when the
youngest is still in grade school, grandchildren are already arriving for
long visits around Christmas, Easter, and summer vacation. There are
always children around--the next living links in the chain of the
generations--learning from their elders the most important lesson of all:
how to celebrate the feasts of their life.
