Each season brings with it a certain feeling, an energy, an invitation to observe the natural world as it moves through the cycles. This is especially true when the seasons are well defined with hot summers and cold winters. For my Polish Ancestors, the winter season brought with it an invitation to a deep observance of the dark and preparation for the cold months ahead, along with the spirit of celebration of the sun’s return at the Winter Solstice. Growing up in Poland I got to witness and partake in the beautiful winter celebrations and traditions that made this time of the year full of magic. Many of these traditions were woven in with Christmas and the welcoming of the birth of Christ and yet, their original lore is deeply connected to the Winter Solstice and the customs practiced around the sun’s rebirth. The sun returning back into the sky after standing still was an auspicious time and deeply celebrated by all.
The remnants of these Polish customs are most present on Christmas Eve. Each family has their own traditions for this time, but many of them will be recognizable across the country. These are the few I grew up with. The family couldn’t begin the meal until the first star of the evening was spotted in the sky. Usually the youngest member of the family was given this task. Twelve dishes would be served of the vegetarian and fish variety. At midnight, the domestic animals miraculously gained the ability to talk. Sadly, I have no proof of this miracle, as my great uncle always insisted that he had to go alone to talk with the cows and horses in the barn and stable. And, most importantly, there would always be an empty plate setting at the table.
It’s interesting to notice what lingers in our memory from such customs. What we carry into our life moving forward. Out of all the customs present during Christmas Eve, which, as I earlier mentioned, was the honoring of the Winter Solstice, the empty plate setting always held my deepest curiosity. And, of course, the meaning behind making such a gesture. Who is it for? Why isn’t anybody ever showing up? Why on this eve? The answers my family offered were rather vague. “On this night nobody is turned away, we must be ready,” was one answer. And, “It’s for the wandering guest,” was another. Most often, the explanation was: “It’s just what we always do, it’s tradition.” None of this truly satisfied me as a child and I kept on looking and listening to other people’s stories around the empty seat tradition. I have found, many years later, so much more about this custom and the deeper beliefs around it. For now, I will share the two threads or findings that feel the most appropriate to for this season.
The first is connected to the aspect of guardianship and relationship between the human and animal world as well as to the cyclical aspect of this custom. The “Why is this done during this time?” It is important to remember that the winter season lives in the dark and cold with many potential dangers lurking. This was especially true long ago, when the living conditions were a lot more difficult and people were at the mercy of the elements. Some of the practices of offerings and invitations to the unseen spirits of this time were meant to grant protection and relationship. Once worshiped local Deities and Land Spirits who proceeded over these relationships and petitions turned into Saints but the roles remained intact. One of such guardians is Saint Nicholas, Święty Mikołaj to the Poles, and his feast day is on December 6th. He was a bishop, known for miracles and helping the poor and needy, later became a patron of shepherds and animals. His feast day is on December 6th. Seen as a protector of wolves and especially of wolves in the winter, he made sure that the wolves had enough to eat during the cold season. Shepherds believed that St. Nicholas protects their animals from wolf attacks and is able to be a bridge to a good relationship with them. There was a special mass for Saint Nicholas on this day called “Wolf Feast” during which offerings of milk, bread, poultry and butter were given to him and the wolves. In exchange, the wolves wouldn’t attack sheep or people for the entire winter season. The wolf in many ways, feels like the wanderer, like the other. In older beliefs the wolf is seen as an adversary, a powerful force of nature. To befriend him can bring extra protection from the other dangers, which he may be able to negotiate with. This offering is an invitation to participate in a peaceful pact.
The second finding is from an actual story. As with many beliefs from Poland, most of them are passed down through oral tradition and folk tales. This particular piece of writing found me many years ago and has held on very strongly. It’s from a book of sagas and songs from the Carpathian Mountains region, by Stanislaw Vincenz called “On the High Uplands.” This story is about a hermit by the name of Foka Szumej and his winter practices –
“He celebrated all the solitary rites and secret holidays solemnly, fervently. At Christmas Eve, like almost all farmers in this time, he performed protracted rites in solitude. On that day the magic powers are scattered all around us, only slightly covered by the forest or the snow. Only stretch out your hands and they will be with you all the following year. Stretch out your hands, fraternize with the beings near and far, with your own and those of strangers; with the friendly and the good, but with the hostile and the bad also. Give them this one opportunity of fraternizing sincerely, without trickery. And maybe…
He used to invite them to the Holy Supper, the Secret Supper. He invited the souls of those poor people, those unhappy people, who have died somewhere far off, in other worlds, without comfort, without knowledge; abandoned, snatched away by sudden death, crushed by logs, broken by beams, drowned in waters, struck down by thunders, overwhelmed by blizzards. He recalled those of them he knew, whispered quiet, friendly words to them, asked pardon of those he had forgotten. He invited them all, and the storms, and the bears, and the wolves: “Come and be our guests.”
Come and be our guests. Yes, this right here, this is about the empty seat, I thought when I first read this. The invitation is to more than just what is familiar, but to that which is not. At this time of the year, around the darkest and longest night, opportunities to offer are around us. The opportunities to invite are all around us. These opportunities can be and are whatever we make them be. For me, I find myself thinking about my family a lot. Especially the family that I might not see again. In an offering for them and those memories, I make some of the food we all used to eat together. I also think about my Ancestors and about the hardships they endured, so that I could be here. I offer them sweets at this time and I invite them to partake. I give offerings to the Spirits of the Land near my home who have kept me safe. I invite them to partake. Most importantly, I offer my gratitude. I offer a simple task when a big task is not possible…because at this time of the year, like many of us, I can feel pretty tired. And, like my Ancestors, I give an offering to the Wandering Guest, to the Other, the Wolf, The Wild One. We never know what shape the Sacred will take and what blessing they will bestow upon us if we extend the invitation.
Thank you for reading. Happy Winter Solstice. May the Light return within and without. If you feel inspired to invite the Wandering Guest in the spirit of this season, you have plenty of time. Winter is just beginning.
