Showing posts with label folk traditions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label folk traditions. Show all posts

Tuesday, 5 March 2019

Shrovetide & Turning the Fresh Page of Spring

(Image: Jacqueline Durban)

Today is Shrove Tuesday, the final day of Shrovetide or the ‘Pre-Lenten season’, which either lasts for three days or seventeen days, depending on your point of view. This is a period of preparation for Lent, which in itself is a preparation for Easter. I must admit that I like the slow mindfulness of this coming into spring. I often underestimate how much energy it takes to wake up from the dark and becoming more aware of that movement; of the ending of Christmastide at Candlemas, and then the intake of breath before Shrovetide and Lent begin, is valuable. The more that we are able to mark the holiness of our days the better.

The seventeen day Shrovetide begins on Septuagesima Sunday, the ninth Sunday before Easter and the third before Ash Wednesday. Septuagesima comes from the Latin word for ‘seventieth’, falling as it does around seventy days before Easter. The subsequent Sundays; Sexagesima, Quinquagesima, and Quadragesima, translate as ‘sixtieth’, ‘fiftieth’, and ‘fortieth’ respectively. These pre-Lenten Sundays were abolished as part of the liturgical calendar by the second Vatican Council and ceased to be marked from 1970. However, Septuagesima Sunday remains the first day of the carnival season in many countries.

Carnival, or Mardi Gras, is a period of public celebration, parades, and street parties; a welcome opportunity to rejoice before the ‘stripping back’ of Lent. Often carnival involves ‘over-indulgence’ in alcohol, meat, and sweet foods which will then be given up, which of course is the purpose of Shrove Tuesday, or Pancake Day; a chance to use up the last of our flour, eggs, butter, and sugar before Ash Wednesday begins. Another facet of carnival is the wearing of masks and costumes, the stripping away of individuality to allow for a deeper, collective experience. Oliver Rafferty SJ, notes that carnival’s “most important social function was as a highly ritualised challenge to the established order of Church and State” and that, “this was often done under the cover of anonymity and hence the need for the dressing up and masking of participants. This essential element gave individuals freedom to indulge in chaotic displays of anarchic behaviour which sought to undermine the sanctimonious seriousness of ‘normal’ life.” Carnival then was an opportunity to confront the dogma of religion and the strict monarchical hierarchy with a different reality.

Carnival might also be thought of as a sort of ‘wassailing’ of the year, with the last of the winter spirits being driven out in a cacophony of noise to make way for the new, but what that new might be is in many ways for us to choose. In Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s 1559 painting on the theme, ‘The Fight Between Carnival and Lent’, Carnival, depicted as a rotund king riding a barrel of beer, and ‘Lady Lent’, a starving nun with a beehive on her head (beehives being a symbol of the church), joust for dominance. Here are Carnival and Lent as two manifestations of the human experience; plenty and poverty, merrymaking and moderation, chaos and order; springtime Oak and Holly Kings of the human heart. 

Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s 1559 painting, ‘The Fight Between Carnival and Lent’, Wikiart

We are really not very good at negotiating between extremes and so often find ourselves going far too much one way or the other; Carnival and Lent remind us to watch the path. Indeed, in Bruegel’s painting a couple are being led between both along a path of light as though being shown the dangers inherent in becoming too identified with either way of being. We all need our times of celebration and revelry, giddy with abundance like the hedgerows of autumn. We all need our times of being stripped back, waiting for new growth like the bare earth before spring.

(Image: Jacqueline Durban)

Whilst we might feel inclined to turn away from the austerity of Lent and to celebrate the liberation of Carnival, both have their dark and light. Carnival was often associated with violence and with the further pushing aside of the already marginalised, although of course we must always consider who was reporting such happenings. If we are honest about ourselves though we will see that in many large groups, liberated after being too long hemmed in, there is potential for things to go too far. It is this dark seam in rich strata of humanity that allows us to weave the crown of thorns again and again, for the migrant, the refugee, the poor, the vulnerable, the scapegoated, the fox, the badger, the cormorant, the Christ. This too we will consider in the weeks to come, and Carnival, among so many things, is a reminder of what we are capable of at our very worst.

Southwark Fair, which was held in September to coincide with the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary had its delights, including a ‘Mr Pinchbeck, who caused a tree to grow out of a flower pot on the table and flower and bear fruit in a minute’, and stallholders collecting money to help prisoners in the nearby Marshalsea. Nevertheless, amidst much reported criminality, a woman was trampled to death by the crowds in 1733, prior to the Fair being banned in 1763. Similarly, there have been many attempts to ban carnival itself. In 743, the Synod of Leptines in Belgium spoke out against the ‘excesses of February’, and dire warnings were also issued in this period against people who attempted to drive out winter via a ‘variety of less honourable acts’. Confession books from the period also tells us much about the activities of the common people who were noted to dress as an animal or an old woman during festivities in January and February, despite the severe penance required. This writing down of confessions in a book may explain where the name ‘Shrovetide’ comes from, as the original meaning in Old English of ‘scrifan’, whose root is in the Latin, ‘scribo’, is ‘to write’, but has now come to mean ‘confess’, to be ‘shriven’, perhaps then to ‘rewrite’ the book.

Moving to the present day, we find the annual ‘Shrovetide football’ game, which takes place over two days in the rural town of Ashbourne in Derbyshire and have been played in England since the 12th Century and in Ashbourne since at least 1667. This game is played on a ‘pitch’ that is three miles long, stretching from one side of the town to the other, and any number of people are allowed to join in with birth in relation to the town’s river dictating whether one should join the Up’ards or Down’ards team. The game is characterised by much eye gouging, punching, and stomping, shops and boarded up and parking in the main streets of the town is much discouraged! There are very few rules involved but, tellingly, these include the prohibition of murder or manslaughter, with ‘unnecessary violence’ being frowned upon, the ball not being carried in a motorised vehicle or hidden in a bag, coat, or rucksack, and the avoidance of cemeteries, churchyards, and memorial gardens. Enough said I think! 

(football-origins.com)

In Bohemia in the Czech Republic, a Shrove Tuesday tradition sees a man dressing up as the personification of ‘Shrovetide’ and whoever is able to snatch a straw from his hat and place it under a hen is assured of a fine batch of eggs in the spring.

As for the, perhaps by now welcome, peace and quiet of Lent, it once would have made much practical sense to enjoy all our persishable foods, such as meat and dairy, before the warming days of spring, and then to give meaning to doing without them until a new season of food could be gathered. It would also give people of the land a chance to cleasnse through fasting and the taking of spring tonics to wake up the body, mind, and blood. This finishing up of our winter larder is expressed in many ways. The Syrian Orthodox church celebrate ‘Moonnu Nombu’ at this time, a three day pre-Lenten fast which recalls Jonah’s three days in the belly of the whale. In Byzantine and Orthodox traditions, ‘meatfare’ and ‘cheesefare’ Sundays are designated to help use up these ingredients. In Russia and other Slavic countries, the week before Lent is known as ‘Butter Week’. In Iceland, this day is known as ‘Sprengidagur’, or ‘Bursting Day’, and is characterised by the eatring of salted meat and peas. The word ‘carnival’ itself is said to come from the Latin, ‘carne levare’, to ‘remove meat’. The last three days of Shrovetide then are our final chance to use up all of these foods (not forgetting ‘Fat Thursday the week before).

Shrove Monday, also known ‘Rose Monday’ and ‘Merry Monday’, is known by the name of ‘Collop’, or ‘Collopy’, Monday in Britain. The ‘collop’ refers to the traditional meal of the day; leftover meat, or ‘collops of bacon’, and eggs, although in East Cornwall it is sometimes referred to as ‘Peasen’ or ‘Paisen’ Monday due to the local custom of eating pea soup on that day, presumably with bacon added. Interestingly, Lithuania have a similar tradition of eating pea soup on the last day of Shrovetide, Shrove Tuesday.

Known in Britain, and elsewhere, as ‘Pancake Day’ and in others as ‘Mardi Gras’, or ‘Fat Tuesday’, Shrove Tuesday is filled with tradition. Our custom of eating pancakes on this day dates back until at least the 16th Century, although the instruction to be ‘shriven’ is much older. Church bells were traditionally rung on this day, the toll being known as ‘the Shriving Bell’, both to call people to confession and to remind everyone to start cooking their pancakes. Christianity is full of mixed messages!

‘Mob football’ games are a feature of Shrove Tuesday festivities in some towns, such as Ashbourne, mentioned previously, but also Alnwick in Northumberland, Atherstone in Warwickshire, St Colom Major in Cornwall, and Sedgefield in County Durham. In others pancake races take place, thought to be inspired by a 15th Century housewife from Olney, Buckinghamshire, who was once so engrossed in making pancakes that, when she heard the shriving bell calling her to confession, she ran out of the house frying pan, pancake and all, tossing it to stop it burning in the hot pan! Pancake races still happen there, with only women allowed to join in and with the instruction to wear a bonnet and apron.

(Olney pancake race, Wiki Commons)

In Scarborough, it’s traditional for local people to skip over long fishing ropes from the harbour on this day, called by the town crier with a ‘pancake bell’. In Whitechapel, Lancashire children, echoing many traditions of going from house to house, visit local homes to ask, “Please, a pancake” before being rewarded with sweets or oranges. At Westminster School in London, the "Pancake Grease" is held, an event during which the schoolmaster tosses a very large pancake over a bar that's set to about 15 feet high. The children then make a mad scramble for the pancake and whoever emerges with the largest piece is the winner.

Choristers vs. staff and parents annual pancake race, Norwich Cathedral

And so, it seems that we begin our spring in the same spirit as we journeyed through winter, with our traditions full of the invitation to share what we have in unity and community, not to grasp or cling with the thought that we might then not have enough, but to trust the earth to give us enough, and freely; that what we give out will be returned when we too have need. It seems to me though that we are encouraged to trust less and less, to instead blame, to scapegoat and point the finger, to believe that everyone is out to take what we have and that it is our right to have it, even at the expense of another. In the invitation of our seasonal festivals we are shown both the best and the worst that we can be and Shrovetide and Lent reveal that to us in all the raw, stripped back, vulnerability that we can bear and bare, and perhaps even more than that. We may not like what we see but it is a blessing to be shown it. So, this evening let’s rejoice in our pancakes, and I hope that there will be far too many until we are full to bursting, and then let’s let it all go; the grasping, the fear, the meanness, the blame, the always wanting to be full, let’s turn the page of our confessional and give ourselves up to the green things of spring. We can be so much better than we are. They are waiting to help us rewrite the book.

(Image: Jacqueline Durban)

References:

On Shrovetide ~

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shrovetide
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/shrive
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Septuagesima
https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/how-to-pregame-lent-septuagesima-carnival-and-shrovetide-56266
https://www.fisheaters.com/customsseptuagesima2.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shrove_Monday
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shrove_Tuesday

On Carnival ~

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnival
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mardi_Gras

The Fight Between Carnival and Lent ~

https://www.thinkingfaith.org/articles/%E2%80%98-fight-between-carnival-and-lent%E2%80%99

On Moonnu Nombu ~

http://newandoldmonks.blogspot.com/2010/01/significance-of-nineveh-nombu-for-us.html

On 'Mob Football' ~

https://sports.yahoo.com/news/shrovetide-%e2%80%93-an-ancient--brutal-and-bloody-game-223015662.html
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_Shrovetide_Football

Southwark Fair ~

http://www.exploringsouthwark.co.uk/southwark-fair/4593650298




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: