Showing posts with label Easter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Easter. Show all posts

Monday, 9 April 2018

Of Hares & Hock-days ~ Turning Spring Upside Down

I haven’t written anything here for far too long, and that is something that I hope to remedy in the weeks ahead. However, as sharing more about our idiosyncratic seasonal festivals and observances, and therefore perhaps offering an invitation to more deeply ground in our land and who we are, is one of the things that I very much hope to do, I didn’t feel that I could miss the opportunity to write about Hocktide.


Hocktide was an English medieval festival, part of the marking and turning of our agricultural year. These Hock-days fall on the Monday and Tuesday after Easter week and, together with Whitsuntide in May or June and Yuletide in December, mark a pause in the farming year. During this period ‘villeins’ or tenant farmers, who were tied to the land as part of the feudal system, were freed from working on the lord of the manor’s land and also on their own. These ‘bonded tenants’ had more rights than they would have done under slavery but were ‘bound to the soil’ and unable to leave the land without the landowner’s consent. In return for a small rented home, with or without land, they were required to work on their lord’s farmland, often in addition to paying a rent of money or goods. They were also subject to a range of legal restrictions and responsibilities, which might be a heavy burden indeed. For instance, they might have to pay a fine if their daughters married outside the manor or if their sons inherited land elsewhere. The term ‘villein’ comes from the Latin ‘villanus’, meaning a man working at a large agricultural Roman villa estate, a ‘forced employment’ which originated in a decree issued by the Emperor Diocletian to prevent peasants fleeing the land and so causing a decrease in food production. The decree meant that peasants had to be recorded on a local register and could only leave their village to deliver a message or go to war with their master. And so the land became a prison, rather than a home and source of freedom. Despite this villeinage ensured access to land and land meant survival. It was certainly a preferable arrangement to that of the landless labourer, whose position was much more precarious. Nevertheless, villeins were considered ‘lesser’ and so the word became the source of our derogatory term, ‘villain’, which is certainly not a label that many of us would hope to attract.

As for Hocktide, its origins are unclear but there is an enduring tradition that it commemorates the driving out of the Danes on St Brice’s Day, 1002 following Danish raids on England every year from 997 to 1001. In response King Aethelred “ordered slain every Danish man that was in England.” Although this action led to swift revenge, the inhuman behaviour of the Danish invaders meant that any victory against them was worth marking. It is sensible when considering the origin of the festival to note though that St Brice’s Day is in November and that Hocktide is firmly tied to Easter festivities! That it is thought to be related to the pushing back of the Danish invasion may be due to a Hock Tuesday play once put on in Coventry during the sixteenth century which told the story of a group of feisty Anglo-Saxon women who had turned back the Danes after their menfolk had been defeated. These plays were frowned upon by Protestant reformers and so were stopped, although, in 1575, supporters did succeed in putting on the play before Elizabeth I, who is said to have thoroughly approved.

Anglo-Saxon dress, http://world4.eu/anglo-saxon/

The name Hocktide may originate in the German, ‘hocken’, which means, to ‘attack’, to ‘seize’, or to ‘bind’, and certainly the principal day of the festival was known as ‘Binding Tuesday’. Whereas, Hock Monday was for the men, Hock Tuesday was for the women (echoing the winter festivities of St Martin’s Day, or Martinmas, for men, and St Catherine’s Day for women in November). Reversing the activities of Monday, Hock Tuesday’s shenanigans principally involved women, with much merrymaking, ambushing men via the method of stretching ropes across the public highway, and holding them to ransom until a small fee was paid to be put to ‘pious uses’ (or more often perhaps to buying food and drink for the revellers). In 1497, 13s 4d was gathered by women on ‘Hob Monday’ in the parish of St Mary-le-Hill, London, and, in 1607, women went ‘a-hocking’ in Chelsea and raised 45/-. The Lambeth Book, amongst other references to Hocktide payments, records that in, “1556-1557. Item of Godman Rundell's wife, Godman Jackson's wife, and Godwife Tegg, for Hoxce money by them received to the use of the Church." Indeed at one time records from Lambeth reveal hock money as being the single largest source of Parish income. It is also worth noting that the women collected a lot more money than the men!

                                 "1499. It. rec. of hok money gadereyd of women 20s
                                   It. rec. of hok money gadereyd of men 4s
                                  (St Leonard's church, Reading) 
                                           ~ Dictionary of English Folklore

Eleanor Parker, in her book, ‘Dragon Lords: the History and Legends of Viking England’, describes Hocktide as a sort of ‘post-Easter festival of misrule’, or the World Turned Upside Down, which is a thread running through many of our folk traditions. Certainly it allowed the people of the land to have a day or so away from their serfdom if nothing else. She goes on to say that it was first recorded in London in 1406 and grew in popularity over two centuries, before almost entirely dying out by the end of the seventeenth century. The Bishop of Worcester had banned Hocktide revelries in 1450 so it is clear that it took the common people some time to submit to his instructions. Many of the historical references remaining in relation to Hocktide consist of complaints relating to disorderly conduct and this may explain both why the tradition was frowned upon, and why it was so popular!

(anothermag.com)

I have also come across references to Hocktide being more directly related to Easter traditions through the custom of 'heaving', during which one report claims that local people lift one another off the ground whilst singing, "Jesus Christ is risen again!" Whether this is true I don't know but tradition is a wild being and will change and adapt to the times. That Hocktide may come from the feistiness of Anglo-Saxon women fighting off the Danes, or from the period of the agricultural year given to the collection of rents and making of contracts, or from Christians lifting one another off the ground to celebrate the Resurrection, is part of the glorious nature of our traditions, and it may be one, none, or all of these. We must perhaps listen to the earth beneath our feet to work that out.

Although Hocktide revelleries have dwindled in most places, it remains very much alive in Hungerford on the Berkshire/Wiltshire border, where it is celebrated as ‘Tutti-day’ and confined to the Tuesday of the week after Easter. Early on Tutti-day, following a ‘watercress supper’ the previous evening, the Bell Man, or town crier, goes about the village gathering all commoners to a ‘court', which they will be fined a penny for not attending. If they were to refuse they might also run the risk of losing important privileges granted for free grazing, watercress collection, and salmon fishing on the River Kennet. These privileges relate to land granted to those living in certain houses and dating back to the late 1300s. These are the ‘commoners’ and at hocktide the court and jury elect from amongst them Hocktide officers for the year ahead. It is interesting to note that one of the most important dates of the agricultural year was Lady Day on March 25th. From 1155 until 1752 Lady Day was the English agricultural New Year and it was when rents were due and new contracts were made for the year ahead. A vestige of this remains in the UK’s tax year, which begins on April 6th (Lady Day but adjusted for the 10 day difference between the Julian and Gregorian calendars).


Returning to Hungerford, just before the court sessions, the Tutti, or ‘Tithing’, Men (who might also be women) set out around the village wearing top hats and tails and with long poles decorated with spring flowers, blue ribbons, and with an orange on top (said to relate to William of Orange discovering that he was to be king whilst staying in Hungerford). Over the following twelve hours, they endeavour to visit every common rights household and exact yearly tithes. These dues are most usually paid by a penny from the men and a kiss from every woman in the household, who are then gifted with an orange. These are carried by the ‘Orange Scrambler’ who accompanies the Tutti Men with a sack of oranges and pheasant feathers in his hat! They might then be offered a drink before going on their way. In Yorkshire, children were still celebrating ‘Kissing Day’ into the 1950s and this is thought to have perhaps been a remnant of older Hocktide traditions. Certainly the Hungerford Hocktide revelries are accompanied by excited children hoping for sweets.

At lunchtime in Hungerford everyone gathers at the Town Hall for speeches and reports, following which 'the Blacksmith' appears for a ceremony known as the ‘Shoeing of the Colts’. These ‘colts’ are newcomers to the town or to the lunch who are grabbed so that the Blacksmith can hammer a nail into one of their shoes! Traditionally, he will continue hammering until the colt yells “Punch!” and agrees to buy a round of drinks for those present, although it is now considered sufficient to pay only a small token to avoid sending anyone into poverty. One witness reports that he, having attempted to leave the lunch and thus being suspected of trying to avoid being shoed, had been set upon; “I was grabbed on one side by the vicar and struggled for all my worth kicking and was turned upside down with my feet flailing in the air at which point the vicar jumped on my chest and I was laying on the floor…with the sound of the horse shoe into my foot I shouted punch although it was difficult to remember to say this as I was laughing so much.” Following this sombre and ancient ceremony the company then adjourn to a nearby hotel for anchovies on toast! Researching these traditions, I must say that it is easy to draw the conclusion that Monty Python could only really ever have come out of England.

(BBC)

Hocktide it seems is a tradition that is only just hanging on, and yet where it remains it is thriving as a celebration of commoners rights, community, and connection to place. In its more ancient form, it can be included in the myriad folk traditions of this land in which power relations are subverted or turned on their heads, not least because it gave those who were tied to the land by a contract with their lord a few days of relative freedom, a hint of the breaking of chains. That Hocktide's possible roots in the tale of a group of Anglo-Saxon women taking on Danish invaders and winning has been discredited should not necessarily dissuade us from acknowledging Hocktide as a time when gender relations are ‘turned upside down’, with women gaining the upper hand on Hock Tuesday. That this comes at a time when female brown hares are to be seen in our fields ‘boxing’ in order to test the merits of would be suitors is pleasing. 

Here is just one response to Hocktide that I will embrace, no matter how 'historical', or not, it may be...

On this day we honor
The Saxon women who turned away
The attacking Norsemen from the sea
When their menfolk had failed
Or been slaughtered, their bones lying
In graves still fresh and bare.
For when the need arises,
Anyone can find the courage
To face what must be faced
To dare what must be dared
To fly in the eye of the storm
Heedless of life or death.
We honor the spirit in women,
For millennia put down and buried,
But that rises when in need,
And shows its brave spirit...


(https://witchesofthecraft.com/tag/hocktide/)

May the common ground we share give us strength for the journey, aid us in breaking the ties that bind, and may the Hocktide hare-spirit rise in us all.

(European Brown Hare, www.geograph.co.uk, Wkik Commons)

References ~

Films of Hocktide and Tutti Day in Hungerford:


Monday, 13 April 2015

Fox at Easter

'Night Fox, Night Girl' by William Yates (permission awaited)

3am. I am awake
alive to the night
that bears me into day
dawn vigil in my church of lucent walls
candles call, a bloom of flowers,
to praise the Paschal light.

And yet fear stalks me
I am woman-bound,
dare not prowl the dark,
raise my haunches to the moon
for fear of men who wait and watch
and while and wile the night.

Fox take my prayers
howl grace notes to the night
sing praise songs to the wild
of countryside and Bankside
in your certain stride you hold
my Liberty, Libera me.

4am. My senses keen
I bind my heartbeat to the witches' briar
weave protection from my fear
with thorns of green and guile
open the door, scent the air
my hunger gives me paws.

Four foxes call me out
they trail and track and pad-push
the boundaries of night
and fright, I am woman-wild
I will not be denied. I am amber-eyed.
My defiance has claws.

5am. I step into the church and howl a silent prayer.
I am fox-blessed and alive!




Sunday, 12 April 2015

A Personal Exploration of Easter

'Supposing Him to be the Gardener', Cross Bones Jesus by Barry Parman

I have always had a tense relationship with Christianity. I don't come from a religious family, although I enjoyed church on the rare occasions when we did go because I loved my dad's beautiful singing voice and rejoiced in my mum's equally loud but tone deaf singing. My main memory though is of always feeling that I was doing something wrong that I didn't quite understand. I went to Sunday School every week and sometimes to services at the Pentecostal church, which I loved because of the passion of the Welsh pastor, but my first truly spiritual experiences were ones of connection with nature; of feeling the grass growing and all life breathing. In my teens I went along to my local free church every Sunday, mainly because my best friend's family went, and noticed that often people there weren't very kind but felt superior to others because they had been 'forgiven' by God. In my early twenties, just before getting married, I visited a local vicar with my fiancé for 'marriage lessons' and he told us that, if we argued and couldn't reach agreement, the man should have the final say. After that not only did I not think much of church but I was angry. And, as far as I was concerned, that was the end of me and Christianity. Although I still loved going into churches, I had by then discovered the Goddess path and put institutional religion behind me.

Then, in 2012, I began to sever links with my Goddess community and, feeling heart-sore, I sought out a new place where I could connect with people of Spirit. Southwark had already become important to me and so I found myself in Southwark Cathedral and made a quiet home there amongst its pale~as~moonlight walls and gently beautiful services. I liked its connection to my beloved Cross Bones graveyard (of which more another time), I liked its politics, which I had heard were radical for the church and therefore in stark contrast to St Paul's which had recently evicted the Occupy Movement from its steps, and I liked the anonymity that attending a city cathedral can bring. I still wouldn't call myself a Christian but I felt at home and I still do; as a woman of the Goddess and a hedgepriestess of Afallon, I feel no inconsistency in lighting candles to Mary as an aspect of the Sacred Feminine, nor to Jesus who I am sure would be considered a heretic were he to walk into most Christian churches today. There was much that resonated with me there.

But I have always wanted to remain respectful to the religion which had unwittingly given me a home and have avoided Easter services, finding nothing for me in the concept of a blood sacrifice demanded by an angry God as atonement for supposed sin. As Philip Carr-Gomm says in his essay, 'The Fertile Christ' in Mark Townsend's 'Jesus Through Pagan Eyes' (1), “The story of Christ currently requires two images of his death and rebirth, but in practice it is the image of his crucifixion rather than his resurrection that is used as the central icon of the faith...it is his agonising death that occupies the centre-stage...”.

Through my many years of following the Goddess path, I already acknowledged Easter as a festival of the Germanic goddess Eostre/Ostara and of the rising of spring energy and a return of the light after the long, dark months of winter. There is only one primary source for this goddess and that comes from 'The Reckoning of Time' by Northumbrian monk and scholar the Venerable Bede (673 – 735), who said that, “Eosturmonath has a name which is now translated 'Paschal month' and which was once called after a goddess of theirs named Eostre, in whose honour feasts were celebrated in that month. Now they designate the Paschal season by her name, calling the joys of the new rite by the time-honoured name of the old observance..” (2). Later in the 1880s, Jacob Grimm wrote in his 'Teutonic Mythology' that the Anglo-Saxon name 'Eostre' is related to an Old High German adverb 'ostar', expressing movement towards the rising sun. He claimed that he had found evidence of the worship of a goddess named 'Eostre/Ostara' in oral tradition and said that “her meaning could be easily adapted to the resurrection day of the Christian God” (3). The 'Encyclopedia of Indo-European Culture', published in 1997, says that, "a Proto-Indo-European goddess of the dawn is supported both by the evidence of cognate names and the similarity of mythic representation of the dawn goddess among various [Indo-European] groups” (2). Whether she is an ancient goddess carried through oral tradition or a more modern invention makes little difference to me. I sense Goddess~as~Life moving through all that pulses green and newly unfurls its tender wings or petals at this time of year and celebrate the daily changes of life as it rises.

And so I had comfortably settled into celebrating the Sacred Feminine and the changing of the seasons at Spring Equinox and had chosen not to involve myself in the Christian Easter Festival. And then, this year, I visited Southwark Cathedral just as Lent began in February and saw German artist Angela Glajcar's 'Within the Light'. This was a large-scale installation made of several lengths of translucent white glass fabric hanging one above the other, some tattered like feathers, above the choir stalls. The light within the cathedral is one of its great beauties and 'Within the Light' was designed to reflect this light as it changed throughout the day. I found that this soft-winged beauty touched something within me and challenged my preconceptions about the heaviness and darkness of the 'blood-soaked' Christian Easter festival. Canon Gilly Myers' extraordinary sermon reflecting on the Lenten installation can be found here. I resolved to spend the season exploring Easter through my own spiritual understanding to find out whether there were ways that I could respectfully include myself in the life of the church at this important time of year. This has been a very personal exploration, and one which will continue, but here are some of my musings over the Easter period.

I am not the first person to equate the dying and rising Jesus with other gods, such as Dionysus, Tammuz, and Osiris, many of whom have similar festivals in the spring. In this way he becomes a vegetation god, a sort of Green Man or Green Christ. Coming from a land which is so green and fecund at this time of year this image resonates deeply with me. One of my favourite images of Jesus is an image which hangs at Cross Bones Graveyard, 'Supposing Him to be the Gardener' by Barry Parman, which depicts Christ as antlered, crowned with thorns and flowers, and holding armfuls of lilies. In her essay, 'The Lily Cross and the Green Man' (1), Mara Ede-Weaving talks about a medieval mural in a small church in Godshill on the Isle of Wight which depicts Jesus crucified on a flowering lily. She sees this as symbolising both Christ's sacrifice and that of the Green Man, who offers his own body in a seasonal cycle of growth, harvest, disintegration, and renewal. In the stories of both the Green Christ and the Green Man we can find the trust that we ourselves can be cut down, lose everything, and return. They are a reminder that Life wants to live (an energy which I see as the indwelling spirit of Goddess in all things), and of non-attachment to a particular 'shape' that our life might find us in. Last night, in the midst of struggling with this piece of writing, I dreamed of Hastings Jack-in-the-Green festival. This is ostensibly a morris dancing event which takes place every year around May Day. It begins with the 'Jack'; a frame covered in greenery, crowned with flowers, and wearing the mask of the Green Man, being 'danced' through the town, and culminates with him being torn to pieces in a wildly joyous frenzy and his highly prized green leaves being distributed amongst the crowd. This again symbolizes the sacrifice of the Sacred Masculine so that the seasonal cycle can continue; we let go so that we can rise again, we trust that life will hold us and bring us back to renewal. And so it is with the story of Christ on the cross if we choose to embrace its symbolic meaning.

Hastings Jack-in-the-Green

Victorian author and druid, Owen Morgan, believed that the “core of all true religions was the worship of the life force – in the macrocosm the sun and earth, in the microcosm, the male and female genitals; in both the activities that give rise to new life – were the foundations of all religious symbolism...in Pagan as well as Christian traditions” (1). And within this is the image of the masculine as an energy which rises, falls, and rises again, in contrast to the feminine energy which remains constant. Philip Carr-Gomm points out that, in all variations of the ancient story in which a god is sacrificed for his people, “the god represents the moment, the finite, while the goddess represents the cyclic and eternity'” (1). It is this right relationship between the masculine and the feminine which brings the renewal of life, rather than atonement for sin.

Which brings me to the place of the Feminine within the Easter story. For many years, I have equated the time between Jesus' death on Good Friday and his rising on Easter Sunday with the journey of the dark/new moon, which disappears for several nights before reappearing as a tender, newly reborn crescent; life from death. The date of Easter has come to be determined by the moon, with Easter Sunday falling on the first Sunday after the full moon on, or closest to, March 21st. In this way Easter becomes a lunar festival in contrast to the solar festival of Christmas. Often the sun is equated with the Masculine and the moon with the Feminine and I have found Easter a powerful time to explore Christ as both. In her poem, 'A Prayer of Approach', Revd. Rachel Mann writes...

                                   Christ our Sister, unite us in your holy bleeding.
                                  As you took spit and dust for healing,
                                  take our hands, cracked and huge as washerwomen's,  for God's work (4)

It is also a time when we can reflect on the role of women in Jesus's story. Jesus often used feminine imagery in his description of the Divine, particularly describing God's wisdom in female terms, and there are many examples of the importance of women in the gospels. Jonathan Merrit's conversation with Mary Demuth, which can be found here, tells us more about Jesus's radical relationship with women and it was this radicalism which led to the historical Jesus being persecuted, and eventually executed, by the authorities of the time. Malcolm Guite, in his sermon in Southwark Cathedral on Easter Sunday 2015, spoke of Jesus choosing to reveal his resurrection from the tomb to Mary Magdalene before any other. This was at a time when women were rarely listened to, or respected, and yet a woman was chosen to carry such an important message to the rest of humankind. As Malcolm Guite said, Jesus rose at Easter but this was also a powerful rising of women, both socially and spiritually. If only the early Christian church, and wider society, had been willing to listen, then or now.

In the role of Jesus's mother, Mary, we can perhaps bring together the themes of the Green Christ and the role of women. In the Christian story as it has been given to us Mary is shown only as a helpless witness to the suffering and death of her son. Although it is important to reflect on the suffering of women and mothers it is possible to explore a more empowering role than this. In the Bible women's roles are often shown as passive ones. In many of the ancient stories, such as those of Isis and Osiris, Calliope and Orpheus, Rhea and Dionysus, Dumuzi and Inanna, it is women, and often mothers, who dismember and/or restore the bodies of sacrificed gods. This echoes shamanic initiations across all cultures and, in this way, women take on their roles as mentors and initiators of the male mythic journey. I am reminded of the maenads, priestesses of the god Dionysus, who accompanied him in his wanderings and were said to rip apart wild animals in the abandonment of complete union with primeval nature. It is best not to underestimate the power of the female! We can think of Mary as a similar initiatrix if we are able to free her from the shackles of churchianity and allow her to take her place amongst other divine women. And in freeing her we are also able to liberate the historical Jesus and the mythic Green Christ to spread their message of radical love, deep compassion, connection to nature and to the wounded healer within. He becomes the Fisher King and the Feminine holds out to him the Grail of wisdom and healing.

I have come to no conclusions from making my journey through Easter this year and these will not be ways of thinking that resonate with everyone. For myself, I feel that there is much more to uncover but I have followed many roots and paths through the hedge and have found much beauty. I am lifting a prayer that these explorations will move me closer to the Spirit of what moves through men and women and there will be much more to find.