SHAKE THE FEATHERBED

Well, tomorrow is December 26th — the Feast of Stephen. Stephen the supposed first martyr, that is. When I look out on the Feast of Stephen, I don’t expect to see snow lying about, deep and crisp and even. I don’t even anticipate seeing a light touch of frost. So far, it has been an unusually mild winter here. Plenty of rain though.

Mother Hulda (Frau Holle) has obviously not been shaking out her bedding — or perhaps a lazy girl has visited her and is stealing a nap instead of airing out the bedding. So much the worse for her!

If you don’t know what I am talking about, perhaps you have forgotten the tale by the Brothers Grimm, which is based on old Germanic folklore. When a girl jumps into a well and finds herself in another world, she comes to the house of Frau Holle, and is asked to do household tasks. Frau Holle cautions her:

Du mußt nur achtgeben, daß du mein Bett gut machst und es fleißig aufschüttelst, daß die Federn fliegen, dann schneit es in der Welt; ich bin die Frau Holle.”

“You must only be careful that you make my bed well and shake it out diligently, so that the feathers fly; then it snows in the world. I am Frau Holle.”

So, no snow for me it seems — at least none yet.

But back to Stephen. Yes, December 26th is the Feast of Stephen in the western churches — at least those that pay attention to saints, but in Eastern Orthodoxy it takes place on January 9th for those still on the old Julian Calendar, and December 27 for those wild-eyed innovationists who have adopted the Revised Julian Calendar.

Here is an old Mount Athos fresco of Stephen, who in the book of Acts suffers the first Christian martyrdom. Modern scholars often have their doubts, suggesting that Stephen may have been a literary creation of the author of Luke-Acts to mark a separation point of Jewish Christianity and non-Jewish Christianity, his martyrdom pushing the Christian message to be taken out into the Greco-Roman world.

In any case, the fellow who wrote the inscription on the fresco seems to have done a rather hurried job of it.

We see in big letters at upper left the Ὁ ἍΓΙΟC /Ho Hagios word for “Holy
/”Saint”, and below that the first five letters CΤΕΦΑ/STEPHA continued on the right side with ΝΟC/NOS — All together forming CΤΕΦΑΝΟC/STEPHANOS — Stephen, his name. Before you write and complain that you only see four letters, don’t forget to note the ligature combining the first two letters C and T. Then below again, from left to right side, we see his rather messily-written title “Protomartyr and Archdeacon.” Stephen was supposedly the oldest of seven deacons given charge of distributing food and help to the needy members of the congregation. By E. Orthodox tradition he is considered the first or “arch-” deacon. His name Stephanos is Greek, indicating that he was likely thought to be a hellenistic Jew.

Of course, on the Feast of Stephen it was Good King Wenceslas who looked out on a snowy night and saw a poor man gathering winter fuel. Where I live, it would more likely be someone gathering aluminum cans to exchange for money at the local grocery. They try to hit the recycling bins before the big trucks come by to pick it all up and take it away. Some are not necessarily poor — just very thrifty and industrious.

I have discussed Good King Wenceslas here previously, but being in a good humor at this festive Yule time of year, I will add most of that earlier article below, so that you may have more free time to stuff yourself with holiday goodies instead of putting in the debilitating labor required to click on a link.

Most of us have never heard of the the saint depicted in this recent icon:  “Holy Vyacheslav, Prince of the Czechs”: (Святый Вя­че­слав КнязьЧеш­ский / Svyatuiy Vyacheslav Knyaz’ Cheshskiy).  Sometimes his name is found as Vecheslav.

He was always rather obscure in Eastern Orthodoxy.  In the Svodnuiy Ikonopisnuiy Podlinnik, he is not even given mention of a day of commemoration, other than that of the moving of his relics on March 4th.  So there are very few icons of him, and almost all you will see are quite recent.

Though we do not know him under that Russianized form of his name, he is actually very familiar to most of us in English-speaking countries — particularly at this time of the year — under the name “Good King Wenceslas.”

In 1853, a new Christmas carol appeared in the book Carols for Christmastide.  The words were written by the Englishman John Mason Neale, but the music to which it was set was the 14th century Latin song Tempus Adest Floridum.

Here are the words:

Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the Feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight
Gathering winter fuel.

Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou knowst it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes fountain.

Bring me flesh and bring me wine,
Bring me pine logs hither.
Thou and I shall see him dine
When we bear them thither.
Page and monarch, forth they went
Forth they went together,
Through the rude winds wild lament
And the bitter weather.

Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how
I can go no longer.
Mark my footsteps, good my page
Tread thou in them boldly.
Thou shall find the winters rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.

In his master’s step he trod
Where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing.
Ye, who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.

As you see, this song not only tells us of the goodness of Wenceslas (he obviously would not have been a candidate for the Trump Administration), but also gives us the “miracle” of his footprints that warmed his following helper.

Now we must begin by saying that very little is known for certain about this Wenceslas/Vyacheslav.  In the Czech lands he would have been known by the name Venceslav, now found in the form Václav, pronounced Vatslav.

All the legends surrounding him are based on the life of Wenceslas I, Duke of Bohemia, who is said to have lived from 907 to about 935.  This was in the days before the Great Schism split Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism, but even in those times there was a struggle going on between the Eastern Orthodox and western Latin rites and authority in the Czech lands.

The life of Duke Wenceslas — posthumously given the title “King Wenceslas” by the Holy Roman Emperor, is sadly rather violent and took place in the midst of power struggles.

When Wenceslas reached the age of 18, he banished his regent mother and became ruler of half the country.  The other half was given to his younger brother Boleslaus, generally known as Boleslaus the Cruel.  Not without reason.  He formed a plot to kill Wenceslas.  On September 28, 935, Boleslaus and three cohorts attacked Wenceslas at the door of the church as he was going to mass, the three stabbing him and Boleslaus his brother thrusting a lance though his body.

Almost immediately after his death, the reputation of Wenceslas as a holy martyr began.  There were reports of miracles happening at his tomb.  And with that reputation went tales of his kindness and goodness, as expressed in the remarks of Cosmas of Prague in 1119:

“His deeds I think you know better than I could tell you; for, as is read in his Passion, no one doubts that, rising every night from his noble bed, with bare feet and only one chamberlain, he went around to God’s churches and gave alms generously to widows, orphans, those in prison and afflicted by every difficulty, so much so that he was considered, not a prince, but the father of all the wretched.”

Some think that because Wenceslas — according to tradition — so loved his page and valet Podiven, who was also later killed by Boleslaus for his devotion to Wenceslas, that he must have also been “Gay King Wenceslas.” My view is that in our time too strong a division is made between “straight” and “gay.” Those are rather artificial boxes into which we place people. Really it is often not an either/or matter, because sexuality is more a wide scale than a simple division, with people found at various points on it. Some prefer their own sex. Some prefer their own sex and the other sex. And some prefer only the other sex. And of course one can love someone of the opposite gender or the same gender without sex even entering into it. There can be love without sex; there can be sex without love. People are just people, whatever their sexual orientation or gender preference. What matters is not who you love or how you love, but that you love, and the more selfless the better.

In the earliest account of the good deeds of Wenceslas, the squire who assisted him is not named. It is later accounts that gave him the name Podiven. Remains said to be those of “Blessed” Podiven are interred in the same St. Vitus Cathedral where those of Wenceslas are kept.

So little is known historically about Wenceslas and his page that much of what is said of them comes from legend rather than history, but in any case the tale has provided us with one of the most beloved old Christmas carols.

Here is a Russian icon of Vyacheslav painted by Osip Chirikov close to 1900:

(State Hermitage Museum)

The inscription at the base reads:  Month of September, 28th Day.  That is the traditional date of the death of Vyacheslav.

So there you have it. I hope you find something tasty in your pantry to munch on during the Feast of Stephen, and something warm to drink as you imagine snow outside, deep and crisp and even. Even if it is raining instead.

SCHEDRYK AGAIN

As some of you know, the popular holiday song called in English “Carol of the Bells” is actually a Ukrainian song — “Schedryk.” This festive season is a good time to remember the brave and suffering people of Ukraine and all they have been going through to preserve their sovereignty and independence. May the New Year bring an end to the long nightmare Putin has inflicted on Ukraine, on Russia, and on the world — and may Russia turn to peace and away from authoritarianism.

As in holidays past, here is the link to a pleasant animated version of Schedryk. Enjoy!

THE DAYS OF NO CHRISTMAS

In his popular children’s novel The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, C. S. Lewis introduced readers to the fictional and very chilly land of Narnia, where it was “… always winter, but never Christmas.” In the Roman Empire for about the first 300 years after the birth of Christianity, there too winter came — but never Christmas; however there was much great and joyous winter celebration nonetheless among the people of the Empire.

Most are surprised to learn that for about the first 300 years of Christianity, there was no celebration of Christmas. The first Christians had no particular interest in the date of the birth of Jesus. They considered the celebration of birthdays in general a pagan practice not to be emulated.

Clement of Alexandria mentions others as suggesting the date of the birth of Jesus, but the dates given vary. It seems most thought Jesus was born in the spring, perhaps in April, when the fields were greening and shepherds would have been in the fields. Not in December, with its cold and rain, when sheep tended to be indoors. Some did, however, as early as Hippolytus in the third century, suggest that Jesus was conceived on the Passover and his nativity was nine months after. Given that the date of Passover is calculated from the lunar calendar, its date varied — but one of the dates calculated happened to be December 25th.

No one knew for sure. In any case, we can say that not only did no one know the exact date, nor did they accord it any real importance as a formal commemoration — something that was given the baptism of Jesus early on. And of course most important was the commemoration of the death and resurrection of Jesus. The same was true of martyrs, whose deaths were commemorated, not their births. Of course setting any date for the birth of Jesus means accepting the veracity of the disagreeing Nativity stories in Matthew and Luke — the only two that added birth accounts to the basic material of the Mark Gospel — which included no birth account at all. Nor did the John Gospel.

As most people with a little knowledge of Christian history know, things changed greatly after Emperor Constantine not only legalized Christianity in the Roman Empire but began promoting it. Remember that Constantine was supposedly converted to Christianity in 312 c.e. and legalized and supported it from the date of the Edict of Milan in 313.

In Constantine’s day, there were two significant celebrations enjoyed by Romans. First was the jovial celebration of the god Saturn, which earlier was a single day but by the time of Constantine had grown to seven days, lasting from December 17 to December 23rd. It was a very popular period of feasting and loud merrymaking, of which Catullus said … Sāturnālibus, optimō diērum! — “… Saturnalia, the best of days! And second, there was on December 25th — the Winter Solstice — the Dies Natalis Solis Invicti — the “Birthday of the Unconquered Sun.” That celebration was formally instituted by Emperor Aurelian in 274 c.e. It had been in existence some 62 years before the first formal Roman celebration of Christmas under Constantine in 336 c.e. That was one year prior to his death.

There is a long and ongoing controversy as to whether Christians under Constantine “co-opted” the Saturnalia and Sol Invictus celebrations by setting the celebration of the birth of Jesus on the 25th of December. The existing celebration of Saturnalia was the biggest, noisiest, and happiest celebration of the year, of which Pliny the Younger wrote: “… I find it delightful to sit there [in his villa] especially during the Saturnalia, when all the rest of the house rings with the merriment and shouts of the festival-makers; for then I do not interfere with their amusements, and they do not distract me from my studies.”

Add to that the Feast of the Unconquered Sun, coming only two days later, and a natural turning point in the year due to the Winter Solstice, and it made a very tempting time for Christians to do what many Christians still do today — try to pressure others — by law when they can manage it — to give up their preferred social habits and adopt “Christian” practices in their place.

It seems reasonable that the choosing of December 25th from among other suggested dates for the birth of Jesus was not just a coincidence, but in part a calculated move to replace those “pagan” celebrations with a new Christian celebration, and sun imagery –often used of Jesus — fit in very well with that notion. The Day of the Birth of the Unconquered Sun was the celebration of the rebirth of the sun in midwinter, and Jesus was said to be the “sun of righteousness, and Christians applied Malachi 4:2 to him:

“But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings ….”

That is made clear even in these lines from the 12th century Latin antiphon “Veni, Veni Emmanuel” often sung today as part of the season from Advent to Christmas:

Veni, veni o Oriens!
Solare nos adveniens,
Noctis depelle nebulas,
Dirasque noctis tenebras

“Come, come, O Rising,
Our Sunlight coming,
Dispel the cloud of night
And the dread shadows of night.”

You are probably familiar with it, but just in case, here is a link to a pleasant performance:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5fH7xJ9OfA

I will not repeat the calendrical calculations that resulted in the Eastern Orthodox Church shifting its celebration of Christmas from December 25th into January — suffice it to say that the Julian calendar traditionally used in Eastern Orthodoxy is 13 days behind the western Gregorian calendar. It is worth nothing, however, that even today the Armenian Church celebrates the birth of Jesus and the baptism of Jesus (the Feast of Theophany) on the same day — January 6th. That is very much in keeping with the first noted celebration of the Baptism of Jesus on January 6th in the 2nd century by the Gnostic Basilidian Christians.

Here is a late Mstera/Msyora icon of the Nativity from around the end of the 19th century:

(Courtesy of Jacksonsauction.com)

It is interesting to compare it with this 4th century mosaic from Lebanon depicting the birth of Alexander the Great:

People tend to forget what a debt Christian iconography owes to the pre-Christian “pagan” world.

IT GOT THERE SOMEHOW

A reader asked me to talk a bit about the Greek Marian icon known as the Χοζοβιώτισσα / Khozoviotissa, also found as Hozoviotissa. It is quite an old icon, and the surface is rather dark. Here it is with its metal cover, surrounded by votive objects:

Dark as it is, the metal cover makes it even more difficult to see the positions of the figures clearly. They are better shown in a recent mosaic at the Khozoviotissa Monastery, where the icon is kept:

The name Khozoviotissa/Hozoviotissa is derived from the place in Palestine (Hoziva/Koziva at Wadi Qelt near Jericho) where a monastery dedicated to St. George is located. The Greek monastery where the icon is kept is called the Monastery of Khozoviotissa/Chozoviotissa, which is on the Greek island of Amorgos.

To me the icon is interesting because its traditional origin story combines motifs commonly found in mythic tales of Marian icons. In the case of the Khozoviotissa, the story is rather tangled and confused.

First, there is the “committed to the sea” motif, in which an icon is thrown into the sea, generally to save it from destruction or profanation, and the icon “miraculously” floats to a distant place where it is found in the water. Supposedly the Khozoviotissa was was thrown into the sea (others say placed in a boat in Palestine) by a pious woman in the 9th century during the Iconoclastic Period, and it floated off until it reached the bay of Hagia Anna at the island of Amorgos. There it was found by inhabitants and taken from the water.

Alternative stories say the icon was brought to Amorgos from Palestine by monks of the Hozeva Monastery escaping the Iconoclasts. On the way the icon became broken in two by attacking robbers, and the two pieces were found miraculously rejoined on Amorgos. Others say that the monks themselves put the two pieces back together during the journey, and eventually came to Amorgos, where, seeing a site similar in appearance (with the exception of the sea) to that where their monastery was located, decided to build a monastery there.

Some say simply and perhaps more reasonably that the Byzantine icon was brought along by monks of the Hozeva Monastery in Palestine escaping a plundering attack by Arabs. The monks journeyed by sea with the icon and landed on Amorgos, choosing the rocky site due to its similarity to the location of their own monastery.

Second, there is the “icon deciding its residence” motif, in which a found icon is to be installed in a certain location, but disappears to a new location it favors — or in this case it is that when the Khozoviotissa icon was taken from the sea, believers wanted to build a church to house it, but repeated attempts at construction were mysteriously destroyed during the night. Finally, the foreman asked Mary where she wanted the icon to be, and the next morning he found his chisel and other tools nailed up on a level spot about two thirds of the way up a high and rocky cliff overlooking the sea, so that is where the church to house the icon was finally successfully built. The monks there still have what is claimed to be the nail. Some say the icon was kept in a small chapel for some 30-50 years before the monastery was built for it.

The monastery is said to have been first built about 812-813, and was renovated in 1087-1088 — during the reign of Byzantine Emperor Alexios Komnenos I.

Now as you can see, there is much vagueness and uncertainty in the “history” of the icon.

Here is the Khozoviotissa monastery on Amorgos in Greece:

The cliffside site does look somewhat similar to the placing of the Hozeva Monastery at Wadi Qelt in Palestine — minus the sea, of course. There is only a very small stream running through Wadi Qelt:

MARY AND BEES

A reader asked me to talk a bit about the Greek icon called the Panagia Melissou (Παναγία Μελισσού) — The “All Holy One of the Bee,” or ” – of the Bees,” as we would have it in English. Here is a copy of the original:

There is not much to say about it as it is a modern icon. The concept giving rise to it originated in the Monastery of the Nativity of the Theotokos at Katousi, Karditsa, Greece, where a hive of bees lived in the sanctuary of the church. The bees were allowed to live there and to fly about. The priests, as a blessing, even gave congregants a bit of the honeycomb along with a piece of antidoron bread annually on the Feast of the Nativity of Mary, September 8th.. Antidoron bread is bread made for the Eucharist but not consecrated. As a consequence, and considering Mary as protectress of bees, an icon depicting her holding a honeycomb with some bees on it was painted in September, 2009. It was eventually sent to its present location, the Byzantine Cultural Center of Panagia Melissos in Trikala, in 2018.

Oddly enough, bees. – some 180,000 -200,000 of them in three hives, were also kept in the roof above the sacristy of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. When the church caught fire on the 15th of April, 2019, The main roof was severely burned, but the bees, being some distance below, survived.

In recognition of this, the Government of Greece, as a friendly gesture, gave a copy of the Panagia Melissou icon to France for the reopening of the Cathedral of Notre Dame.