Medieval Christmas Moods
Green and gold nostalgia of the holidays and a Sneak Prevue of December's short stories
The strongest memories I have of the holiday season take place during my school’s observations of Advent and the Nativity. From late elementary up to high school, I attended a Waldorf School,1 which is an education system steeped in tradition and unique philosophy, which segregated it from many commercialized and popular media and culture. It's thanks to this steadfastness against postmodern trends, I think, that they were able to create such a festive, sincere environment during Christmas celebrations—and most holiday observances year-round. My strongest memories of our school’s Christmas traditions come from my late elementary to early middle school years where I grew accustomed to the rustic, old-fashioned atmosphere built by the faculty and older students; the halls and classrooms of our old school building were transformed not into a bright winter wonderland, but a dark, moody—yet nonetheless cozy and comfortable—world of beeswax candles, evergreen garlands, and softly-played woodwind instruments. It felt as though I had been transported back to an older, simpler time where instead of gathering around the glow of a TV on wheels watching a VHS Christmas movie, I and my fellow students were clustered together, enraptured by ancient stories told by our teachers like how children centuries before might have experienced Yuletide stories. Those Christmases of my life had an almost “medieval” feel that I have since tried to replicate, yet never have truly come close to.
Although Christmas celebrations in the medieval period would be quite different—and probably much less comfortable—than the ones I experienced in lower school, I use the term loosely to refer to the rustic, “unplugged” traditions we followed.
Throughout the month of December, the Advent celebration was the running theme until we dismissed for break. Our school’s observance of Advent involved the four “kingdoms” of life—Mineral, Plant, Animal, and Human. For each kingdom we had a school-wide gathering where the teachers told stories and read poems in theme with the kingdom we were on. If I remember correctly, our forums were always bookended by us singing,
Advent, Advent,
A candle burns…
The event I was incredibly enchanted by and looked forward to each year was the Advent Spiral. This event took place in the lower school (which covered grades 1-8) where a single room was transformed entirely; the windows were covered with black tarp, boughs of evergreens were placed on the floor in a spiral and adorned with miniature sculptures of toadstools, gnomes, animals, and other natural yet whimsical things. Each class, one at a time, took turns entering this room, greeted by soft candlelight in the center and peaceful tunes played by our music teachers on wooden recorders. We would line up at the end of the spiral and one by one enter it, walking at our own paces to the center where a high schooler, dressed as an angel, stood—smiling and silent. They would give us an apple that had been cored and had a candle placed in the center, then light it, prompting us to walk back out the spiral and place it upon a squat iron holder nestled within the boughs. It was a quiet, sincere observation of Christmas that was never really explained to us but I suppose was intended for participants to make their own meaning out of. Personally, I think it was a fantastic way of bringing light to the darkest time of the year and finding beauty amid the shadows.
Aside from Advent, one of our regular Christmas traditions was a performance of the Nativity story dubbed “The Shepherds’ Play” put on each year by the juniors in our high school. This version of the Nativity story was distinct in that it allegedly came from a remote village in Germany where residents performed it yearly. Roles were said to have been passed down to each generation, for example a woman who played the Virgin Mary would have her own daughter take up the role when she was old enough. One major thing that separates it from the typical Nativity story was the emphasis on shepherds rather than the Three Kings or Wise Men. My eurythmy2 teacher, who was responsible for directing our performances of the play, explained that the involvement of the shepherds was to focus on the humble beginnings of Jesus Christ and how normal people, not just the elite, benefited from Christianity. According to my teacher, this play had been in that German village’s culture since the Middle Ages; the costumes, songs, and very story had been passed down, and eventually recorded, for generations. With the nature of folk traditions, there had probably been some very drastic changes based on time and region, but our school maintained the very core themes of the story and shared it within our community for years. When it came time for my class to perform it, I played the Star Singer, a minstrel-like character who greeted the crowd, introduced the play, and carried a pair of “star scissors”, a fun device made of wood and rivets with a five-pointed star that extended outward a few feet. When the cast paraded around the audience during certain scenes, I had to have the star hovering over the Virgin Mary’s head—years of use had made the scissors a little dodgy so I had to be careful with them. In my years at school, I looked forward to watching and performing in the play as it sustained the cozy, intimate atmosphere I cherished in my particular school. As with the Advent Spiral, it was another way to bring light to the darkness and come together as a community to play and sing together.
One of the highlights of the Shepherds’ Play were the shepherds themselves. There were three named Huckle, Muckle, and Gallus—with one latecomer who showed up at the very end of the play named Crispin. They are the source of some minor slapstick and comic relief, but are the Christ-child’s very first visitors, guided by the Angel Gabriel. They bring practical, pastoral gifts of milk, meal, and a lamb rather than the more extravagant gifts of the Three Kings. Many students dreamed of portraying the shepherds after seeing the play themselves, sometimes reenacting their scenes during recess, cheerfully skipping while exclaiming their hearty catchphrase, “Ut-hoy!” It was a very wholesome sight to watch younger students inspired by my own class’ performance, which made me feel as though I kept an ancient tradition alive by sharing it with the next generations.
Outside of school, the years when I started experiencing Waldorf Christmas celebrations for the first time was also when my dad started teaching me and my brothers how to play Dungeons & Dragons. Although I hold to my dad’s belief that there is no such thing as a “perfect Christmas”, one of my favorite Christmases was the year my brothers and I received a lot of D&D books and themed gifts. We must have played D&D almost every night that Christmas break, trying new dungeons and characters and flipping endlessly through our new books.
Even in the weeks leading up to that Christmas, I had caught the “D&D bug” in addition to a minor bug that kept me out of school for a few days. While I was recovering, I looked into as much D&D-related stuff as I was able with my limited knowledge and limited access to the internet. All the while I listened to Celtic Christmas music, providing a lightly archaic mood to my research. While I was off the computer, I jotted down ideas and sketches for dungeons of my own devising, looking at some of the ancient Advanced Dungeons & Dragons modules my dad kept in his home office. Early on in my D&D career, I guess I had been captivated by the idea of being a “Permanent Dungeon Master.”
On Christmas Eve that year my family held a Secret Santa exchange where my brother gave me an Eberron Player’s Guide. In the weeks leading up to it, he urged me not to put it on my normal list as he allegedly heard our grandpa was going to get it for me. I realized his ploy once I unwrapped it but was nonetheless glad that he knew I wanted it despite him not being much of a fan of the setting. I stayed up for much longer than I probably should have flipping through the book and listening to more Celtic Christmas tunes.
I remember as well visiting my best friends with my brother on New Year’s Eve to play a short, homemade adventure run by one of our friends. We played for hours in their basement, taking breaks outside to play in the snow then coming right back in to adventure some more. I can’t remember what the plot of the adventure was, but I know it was a very special moment to share between brothers and friends in a hobby we all discovered recently and enjoyed together in the twilight of our Christmas vacation.
Last Christmas and the year before that, I ran one-shots for my brothers and our cousin in the basement of our grandparents’ house, the very same basement our dad and his friends used to play Advanced Dungeons & Dragons back in the day. We played with different systems—Dungeon Crawl Classics and Call of Cthulhu—but nonetheless we shared lovely sessions together, using our imaginations to create a special story we could tell in the days following. For our DCC session, I played a compilation of dungeon synth3 music and my cousin said, “This music makes me feel like we’re in another time” and in some ways that’s what I am ultimately trying to replicate during each Christmas season. A few nights in December, I often find myself resting beside my Christmas tree with all other lights off, maybe a D&D book beside me, Celtic Christmas music softly playing, lulling myself into a sort of trance as I try to remember and replicate the days of yore. I know I’m not able to truly go back to the past, but at the very least it invites me to relax and make what memories I can in these new Christmases coming my way.
Now for the Sneak Prevues of December’s Short Stories
That’s correct! For its first holiday season, Senchas Claideb is not publishing one, but two short stories! The first, coming this Friday (December 22nd), is “Christmas 2013” a moody, analog horror story about a young man struggling to remember the last Christmas he had with his sister before she disappeared. The second, which as per our regular schedule will be coming on the last Friday of December (the 29th), is “The Christmas Knight” a more lighthearted fantasy story of a man trying to have a quiet holiday in the Welsh countryside when he is suddenly transported to Arthurian Britain.
Christmas 2013
I don’t remember the last Christmas I celebrated with my sister. Our family albums don’t seem to remember either; they’re filled to the brim with pictures from when Mom and Dad started celebrating it together, with my sister and I later appearing in them, all the way up to 2012—the year we thought the world would end. My parents and grandparents held onto “outdated” tech for as long as possible, mainly because we couldn't afford many new devices. I too preferred having physical reminders to put together in big albums, like piecing together a puzzle or a map of memories. It was something my sister and I looked forward to after our Christmas breaks ended—going to the drugstore with rolls of film and bringing them home after they were developed, careful not to get the oil from our fingers on the photos as we inserted them into the album sleeves. We would smile and laugh as the red-eyed stills of ourselves and friends and family smiled back from their glossy prisons.
We never got to immortalize Christmas 2013; there is no record of it in my memory or in our albums. After my sister went missing on New Year’s Eve, all traditions fell to the wayside in favor of finding her. I was too young to help Dad and the other grown-ups in town look, so I helped Mom dole out hot drinks and soup to the volunteer searchers. I couldn't focus when I had to go back to school; my mind and eyes constantly wandered to the shifting wintry mix, pinning me with the thought of my sister being stuck out there in the snow, rain, and ice. Although my family never really gave up the search until the summer, the town officially called it quits by Valentine's Day.
The whiplash of my sister's disappearance must have completely wiped the joyful memories we made that Christmas from my mind. Bits and pieces came to me in dreams in the years following, but they slipped away as soon as I wake up—a sliver of a scene here; a familiar phrase there. I never worked up the strength to ask my parents or anyone in my family about that Christmas. Truth be told, it hurt to even try and come up with something to talk about at her memorial service; I cried my eyes out and my family didn't force me to say a word.
The Christmas Knight
The stranger bowed, brushed snowflakes out of his black hair and off his form, then entered the cottage. Jack bobbed his head hurriedly yet respectfully and darted over to the wood chest. The stranger’s armor clanked as he walked over to the couches around the hearth. He slowly doffed the graith on his upper body while Jack tossed logs onto the embers.
The stranger sighed and sank onto the couch, his gear resting beside his feet. “God bless you, good host,” said he. “To be let in alone is a great kindness. I believe the North Wind would have made my grave were it not for your charity.”
Jack paused for a moment to interpret his guest’s speech, noting many archaisms in it. “Is there some faire or exposition you’re attending?” he inquired at last.
His guest looked at him queerly, likely interpreting Jack’s own speech. “A faire of sorts, I suppose; it is a grand celebration for a small hamlet. Are you not also part of it?”
Jack shook his head, pumping the bellows meanwhile. “Which hamlet? I’m merely renting this cottage for Christmas and mean to remain out of the festivities.”
The stranger laughed heartily. “Why would deny yourself such a joyous observance of our Savior’s birth? Though silence and solitude are important, it would be more of a sin, I think, to not make merry on this occasion out of any week in the year.”
“I prefer to celebrate as a monk would, even if most would call me a ‘Scrooge.’”
The stranger frowned and furrowed his brow. “What is a ‘Scrooge’, friend?”
“Haven’t you heard Dickens’s story?”
“Who is ‘Dickens’? Some upstart bard?”
Jack rose from the hearth as the flames climbed and crackled over the fresh logs, renewing the warm, hazy smell of burning wood in the air. He and the stranger locked eyes in silence for a few moments as they no doubt wondered if either man was from the same time or world.
“Who is our sovereign ruler?” the stranger inquired.
“Her Majesty Queen Victoria.” Jack’s words tumbled slowly from his lips. “Who do you believe is Britain’s monarch?”
“King Arthur, of course.”
Thanks for reading this week’s post! Are there favorite Christmas memories you have or traditions specific to yourself that you practice during the holidays? If so, click the button below to share them in the comments!
Also, be sure to give the gift of Senchas Claideb this year by clicking the “Refer a Friend” button below! It helps spread the lore and you’ll receive special rewards if you get enough referrals, such as a personalized Gaelic phrase and a free original short story!
Follow Ethan and Senchas Claideb on other social media platforms using the links below!
The Waldorf School educational system was founded by Rudolph Steiner (Waldorf schools around the world are sometimes known as Steiner schools) and draws most of its foundations from the philosophy of anthroposophy (which is never actually taught to students). It is a very holistic approach to education, utilizing an unplugged experience and multiple outlets for creative expression in academic work.
For those who aren’t familiar with Waldorf or Steiner education, eurythmy is a type of physical education that involves interpretive gestures and dances that mimic sounds, emotions, and concepts.
Dungeon synth is a style of music that I would best describe as if old school D&D had cassette tape soundtracks that came with the rulebooks. For a more detailed explanation, watch the video below:
I really liked reading about your memories of Christmases past. Glad they are such happy ones. It’s great how you and your brothers learned to love D & D through your father. I like that you, your brothers and cousin made some Christmas D&D memories right here.
These all sound like lovely holiday memories. Speaking of celebrating Christmas traditionally, I recommend reading A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote. It's a lovely little story that intimately details celebrating Christmas in the South in the 1920's. Cannot recommend it enough, I think you'll like it. It kinda reminded me of what you wrote about your Waldorf School festivities.