Sharing holiday traditions is a joy to all
To the Times:
What an interesting, informative and educational column by Joseph Ba tory regarding“Wig ilia… Memories of the Polish Christmas Eve tradition,” published on Christmas Day. It brought a smile to my face. Other than relishing pierog is (potato dumplings), I was not familiar with Polish Christmas Eve traditions and learned a lot from reading this.
There seems to be slight similarity with Jewish tradition at Se der concerning the eldest and youngest family member’s duty. Even though I have never experienced participating in the Jewish Seder, I have some inkling of the Jewish tradition from close friends. In the Jewish tradition, the eldest person opens with a prayer before the meal; whereas, in the Polish tradition, the eldest member breaks off a piece of Christmas wafer called Oplatek to begin the ceremony. In the Jewish tradition, the youngest member queries about the meaning of Seder; in the Polish tradition, the family dinner starts when the “First Star” is sighted by the youngest family member. In addition, songs are sung in both these traditions.
In the Italian Christmas Eve tradition, most families have the seven-fish meal, somewhat similar to the Portuguese tradition, except the Portuguese tend to have one type of seafood, the ubiquitous cod, or salted cod known as bacalhau. The Portuguese usually have a light dinner on Christmas Eve called Consoada rather than a big festive meal. The similarity being that the Italians, Portuguese and Polish, abstain from meat the day before Christmas only to devour meat on Christmas Day.
Since I grew up in a very devout Catholic family, everything centered around religion, beginning with a light seafood dinner on Christmas Eve followed by attending the midnight mass. Close family friends would walk back from mass w ith us to our house only to continue celebrating w ith dr inks and merriment. My sister and I would be ushered to our bedrooms after a mug of hot chocolate, walnuts and a piece of fr uit, while the adults would make a bonfire in the garden, roa sting wa lnut s, chestnuts and marsh mellows and sipping wine into the wee hours of the morning. We as kids, clad in our nightgown, would peer out our bedroom window on our tiptoes watching and listening to the caroling, often sung of f-key as the wine took over, while a few of the family friends played the guitar and harmonica till sleep took over us.
On Christmas Day, it was almost always roast goose and the giblets were used as stuffing along with the ever popular walnuts and chestnuts. Some years, ham was consumed for the occasion. Sometimes, my paternal grandmother, who was known as “Nana” to us, would make oxtail soup or roast tongue and say that this is the tongue that never lies. Since I’m a pescetarian now (having only seafood and veggies) and have been for many years, I cannot imagine my savoring all this growing up. It sickens me thinking about it.
To diffuse this repulsive thought as I write this, le t ’s turn to something humorous. Here’s what I remember that my paternal grandfather (Papa to us) used to joke with his buddies af ter a few shots of whiskey or gin.
An old monk who lived in a cloistered monaster y was always sanctimonious in quoting Scripture at the other monks. One day, a brother cook was concerned that there wouldn’t be sufficient food for supper to feed all the monks at the monastery. The old monk cautioned him with the Scripture: “Oh, ye of lit tle faith!” This annoyed Brother Cook, so he informed the Abbot of the old monk’s Scripture quoting habit. The Abbot beckoned the old monk and asked him to stop this habit. The old monk retorted: “Blessed are those persecuted for righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Early the next morning, a jackass meandered into the courtyard of the monastery, and all the monks were trying to get the obstinate jackass to leave. The old monk watched all this unfold from his bedroom window. The monks in the courtyard saw the old monk watching them at the window and said: “A ll r ight , if you think you are so smart, what Scripture do you have for us now?” The old monk answered with a big grin: “He came among his own and his own knew him not.”