Tomorrow is St. Lucy's Day, a holiday primarily observed in Northern and Central Europe, and the Upper Midwest. If it seems odd for Lutherans to observe a St. Day, it's because it sort of is. Then again, as with most Christian observances, the holiday's roots have nothing to do with saints or Christianity.

St. Lucy's Day begins with a young girl clad in white with a lit crown of candles positioned in her hair in a fir wreath (or lingonberry or whortleberry twigs). She leads a procession of candle-bearing girls with coffee, ginger snaps, glog and St. Lucia buns (lussekatter). Sometimes there are boys in conical hats known as "star boys." The children sing Lucia songs which provide a welcome break from Christmas Carols.


Falling near the longest night of the year, the symbolism of young maidens bearing light-bringing fire and bounty isn't too hard to figure out, but if you must know the official Christian version of events, then here you go. Officially, Lucia helped the early Christians in Italy who hid in the catacombs. In order to see, but needing to bring food in her hands, she contructed a wreath of candles. Yeah... right.


The truth is that before the light-bringing Lucy was invented, Germanic people and their neighbors observed "Lussi Night." The figure, Lussi die dunkle, was a dark, evil female spirit that came on the 13th of December to punish those with uncompleted tasks. Similar (and perhaps to related) to Lillith, the Mesopotamian storm demons, Lussi also preyed upon children. In fact, a whole mob of Lussiferda (Lisle-Ståli, Store-Ståli, Ståli Knapen, Tromli Harebakka, Sisill, Surill, Hektetryni and Botill) would go around an enter houses through chimneys to kidnap children. Sound vaguely familiar?

Today marks the anniversary of the 75th anniversary of the repeal of prohibition in the US. From 1920-1933, hooch went underground because a bunch of Christofacists wanted to legislate morality. Proving that the church and state have never been terribly separate, these teetotalers decided that, even though Jesus liked to turn water into wine, what's good enough for the Messiah isn't good enough for us. Hollywood used the opportunity to make a lot of movies which focused on moonshining, bootlegging, rum-running and speakeasies. So, crack open a cold one and consider watching one of these flicks.

Last year I posted an entry about St. Nicholas and the rather unsavory company he keeps. Child murderers, demons and hags (oh my). Well, the Krampus proved very popular, earning me another nickname that has stuck around throughout the year.

The Krampus is a demon that, with the approval of kindly St. Nick, terrorizes bad children and apparently lusts after the ladies. His chief implements of torture seem to be a switch and a tongue which would embarass Gene Simmons. This is designed to frighten children into behaving well. Germanic peoples have always understood that the best way to rear children is by keeping them terrified of the consequences of bad behavior. My mother used to get on the phone to call "The Nanny," a character who rammed food down the throats of ungrateful children with her thorny stick. I credit my continued membership in the Clean Plate Club™ to these threats.



If you've never read Der Struwwelpeter then you don't know what you're missing. It's a childrens book which uses stories and wonderful illustrations to suggest that misbehavior is likely to end in disaster and even death. It's a wonderful tool.

So, enjoy these Krampuses, have a happy St. Nicholas Day and behave or die!

Today is the feast day of Martin of Tours. Martin was a Roman soldier who gave part of his cloak to a naked homeless man. According to some, he gave the rest of his clothes to another naked man and rode Lady Godiva-style through the late autumn winds. God miraculously warmed the earth for him, which is why it gets warm after being cold this time of year (known by a few as "St. Martin's Summer"). That night, Martin dreamed that Jesus came to him, scantily clad in the portion of his cloak which he'd given to the naked guy. When Martin awoke from his homo-erotic dream, he decided to devote himself to Christ and was baptized at 18.

Eventually he became a bishop in Tours. He didn't want to be a bishop so he hid in a goose pen. The geese betrayed him with honking and that is why we traditionally eat goose today, a sort of revenge best served fairly hot.



In Tours he gained a reputation for his iconoclastic violence, destroying the polytheistic art objects and ancient, historic temples of the indigenous Druidic religion like some medieval representative of the Taliban. He even went a little nuts and cut down trees, to the locals' dismay. On one occasion, a druid consented that he could cut down the tree if he stood where it was likely to fall. He did so and, of course, the tree fell in another direction. The druids were impressed.