{All music and illustrations cannot be displayed in ASCII text. For a complete copy of the book, contact Trinity Communications. All captions for illustrations will be placed in brackets ({ }) } 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. Marzipan 1 lb. sweet almonds 1/4 lb. bitter almonds 1-1/4 lbs. confectioners' sugar 2 egg whites, unbeaten 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. Cocoanut Busserln (Kisses) 2 egg whites 1/4 lb. confectioners' sugar 1/4 lb. shredded cocoanut 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. Rum Stangerln (Rum Slices) 4 egg whites 1/2 lb. walnuts, ground 1 lb. confectioners' sugar 1 tsp. vanilla 1/2 lb. pecans, ground rum 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: (1) 1 cup grated pineapple, 1 qt. ginger ale. (2) 1 qt. strained, sweetened strawberry juice, 1 qt. raspberry juice, 2 qts. ginger ale. (3) 1 glass currant jelly dissolved in 1 cup hot water. Cook, chill, and add 1/4 cup mint, finely minced. (4) 1 qt. cider, 1 qt. grape juice, 1 qt. soda water. 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