The places where witches, not Santa Claus, are the Christmas visitors
In some parts of the world, witches are more likely to visit
at Christmas than Halloween
It's a peaceful Christmas evening. Children are nestled all snug in their beds, breathlessly awaiting a magical nighttime guest who'll sneak down the chimney before flying off on … her broom?
While many North American homes will receive a visit from a jolly old elf this holiday season, children in parts of Europe can expect quite a different type of caller: a Christmas witch.
Some of these enchantresses are lovable gift-givers, female counterparts to Santa Claus. Others are much more sinister, liable to snatch naughty children and eat them for dinner.
Whether kind or cruel, Christmas witches can be found from the northernmost reaches of Scandinavia to the shores of the Mediterranean sea.
Here's an introduction to three weird women of the holiday season.
Lussi
On Dec. 13, Norwegians and Swedes wouldn't dare venture outside for fear of running into Lussi, a demoness, and her company of undead.
Before the transition to the Gregorian calendar, Dec. 13 was the date of the winter solstice, the longest night of the year.
Lussi — whose name paradoxically derives from lux, the Latin word for "light" — rose up to wander that deep darkness, peeking into farmhouses to check whether the autumn chores had been completed.
Children misbehaved that night at their peril. If Lussi spotted them she would creep down the chimney, and, instead of leaving a harmless lump of coal like Old Saint Nick, she would take the disobedient youngsters away, never to be seen again.
Beginning in the 1700s, the observance of Lussi Langnatt (Lussi Long-Night) was gradually replaced with a celebration of a less fearsome Lucy: Saint Lucia, a third-century Roman martyr.
Today, in parts of Scandinavia, a family's eldest daughter wakes before dawn on Dec. 13 and dresses as Saint Lucia. Robed in white and crowned with a candlelit wreath, she serves saffron buns bright as the sun to her parents, a harmless echo of a much more dangerous solstice spirit.
Grýla
The modern age may have tamed the demoness Lussi, but Iceland's Christmas witch has lost none of her teeth.
Huddled in the dark, craggy lava caves of northern Iceland, the ogress Grýla spends the year listening for word of spoiled children. Then, at Yuletide, she comes down from the mountains to gather them up for a stew that will last her the rest of the winter.
By some accounts, Grýla has horns like a goat, a tangled beard, and earlobes that hang down to her shoulders. Other legends hold that she has three hundred heads, eyes on the back of her neck, or 15 spiked tails that can each snatch up 15 children.
Not only a woman to be reckoned with in her own right, Grýla is also the matriarch of a fearsome family.
Her gigantic pet, the Yule Cat, will devour anyone it finds wearing old clothes at Christmastime, and her 13 sons, the Yule Lads, roam the countryside making mischief in the 13 days leading up to the holiday.
Grýla lives with her good-for-nothing husband, Leppalúði, though he's not her first. She ate a previous husband when he got on her nerves.
The Yule Lads have been "Santa-fied" in the 20th century and are now as likely to leave gifts for children as they are to terrorize them.
Grýla, though, is more tenacious. Even now, Icelandic children fear a visit from this Christmas cannibal.
La Befana
The warmer climate of Italy is home to a friendlier seasonal spirit.
Though she may look like a classic wicked witch, with her hooked nose, broomstick, and — sometimes — pointed hat, La Befana is Italy's answer to Santa Claus. Every year, on the eve of Epiphany (the night of Jan. 5), she flies into houses through the chimney to leave treats in children's stockings or shoes.
In Christian tradition, the feast of Epiphany marks the day when the three magi reached Jesus in Bethlehem after following a strangely bright star to the spot.
As legend has it, on their journey the magi knocked at La Befana's door to ask for help. Though she couldn't give them directions to the newborn king, she generously hosted them for the night, and, in the morning, they invited her to join them.
Preoccupied with housework, she declined but soon regretted her decision. She packed a basket with gifts for the baby and left to find Jesus on her own.
As she went out through the cottage door, the broom she had been sweeping with magically levitated off the ground, allowing her to ride it.
She's been searching for the infant king ever since, leaving gifts wherever she finds a child as a symbol, according to some, that the compassionate spirit of the Christ child lives in all children.
Together despite the darkness
Whether a community celebrates Yule, Hanukkah, Yalda, or Christmas, the dreary days of midwinter have long been a time to gather together and fight back the darkness with light, warmth, and good cheer.
Europe's Christmas witches all have something in common: they bring an added touch of magic and excitement to the darkest days of the year.
Whether they come bearing gifts or patrol the darkness outside as a warning to stay indoors, they remind us all to savour our time together while we await the return of the light.
No comments:
Post a Comment