On this day when it gets dark outside, St. Nicholas, or Mikuláš, knocks on doors and asks to speak to the children. He is accompanied by a gorgeous angel who rings a sweet-sounding bell and scary devil who rattles his chain and growls as a warning.
Mikuláš asks the children whether they have been good or bad. Each child then has to recite a poem or sing a song. If a child has been bad, the devil threatens to put the child in his burlap sack and carry it away. But he never does. All children get a bag of goodies before the curious threesome leaves. If a child has been bad, her baggie is filled with coal and potatoes. If the child has been good, she gets fruit and candy.
A couple of times as a little girl I got coal and potatoes, but after every adult around had a great laugh, I was handed a bag filled with fruit and candy.
The night Mikuláš walks around your neighborhood is so magical, exciting and scary all at the same time. Many children hide under their beds and have to be coaxed to crawl out. I always loved the holiday.
The one I remember the most was the year I must have turned five or six. I actually recognized the devil as my parents' colleague. I felt so betrayed, my world utterly shattered. But mainly I was angry about the deceit. I guess that is how lots of kids feel when they find out Santa isn't real.
On Saturday I am taking Jonah to an American substitute of Mikuláš the Czech Society of Oregon is hosting. They host a Christmas dinner and St. Nicholas appearance every year. Last year we went too, but Jonah was only one. He hardly reacted. This year he will have a totally different experience. I hope the devil doesn't give him nightmares!
I googled Mikuláš and his companions, but didn't find very many good images. I have included my favorite ones of the devil, angel and St. Nicholas.
The other holiday that this year coincides with Mikuláš for my family, is of course Chanukkah. I grew up celebrating the major Christian holidays - Christmas and Easter (and St. Nicholas Day). I come from a predominantly Catholic country after all. Half my family is of Catholic stock. The interesting thing was that I didn't really grow up with any religious tradition or understanding. My mom's side of the family is Catholic, though the last practicing and well-versed Catholic is my grandmother. The holidays were more folksy. I never really understood how they tied into the Christian religion because I never studied the Bible or went to church. Religion was frowned upon and nearly banned by the Communists in power. My family was spiritual, but not religious. My father's side is Jewish. The last practicing Jew was his maternal grandmother. My father is completely assimilated to the point that he only observes Christian holidays and doesn't really know much about Judaism.
For no explicable reason, I feel a strong affinity with my Jewish heritage, though I have no tangible connection to it. For the past several years, and especially since Jonah was born, I have slowly been educating myself on issues related to my Jewish roots. I do this mostly privately and quietly, as if hiding it from the world. But it is very important to me to do this. I am the first "mixed" child in my dad's lineage, or so he claims, and there is a part of me that mourns that loss of connection and lineage. Judaism, after all, is a matrilineal tradition, so unless I convert (and even if I converted, according to a large number of Jews), I am a non-Jew. Still, I feel increasingly that sense of personal and spiritual connection. It is something that just is, independent of laws or people's opinions.
Thus, I loop my way back to Chanukkah. I lit the candles tonight and with the help of an MP3 recording, sang my blessings. Maybe later this week I will make some latkes. I did the year Jonah was born.
1 comment:
If you feel a connection to your Jewish roots, you're Jewish. We'll have to have you three (four) over for Shabbat dinner one of these Fridays.
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