Sunday Post - 22.12.1940, Blaðsíða 11

SUNDAY POST
11
ICELANDIC CHRISTMAS
CUSTOMS.
(Continued from page 1.)
should have finished all outdoor
work. Then everybody sat down
the Christmas dinner, and
uow the real joy and festivities be-
gan. The sacred atmosphere of
Christmas Eve had disappeared,
and the people now enjoyed food
and drink, and almost every-
where you played cards. In those
homes where there were many
People, Christmas games were
played, and you even sang or danc-
ed. It was quite common that
you invited your friends in the
evening, but this as a rule took
place on Boxing Day. That ev-
ening was the time for invita-
tions. The rich drank toddy on
Christmas Day evening with their
people and guests, but the poor
coffee with small thick pancakes.
Earners who had many sheep,
Used to give their shepherd on
Christmas Day half a bottle of
hrandy, and this was called shep-
herd’s glass. It was even said,
that able shepherds preferred
those places where it was said
the “shepherds glass'* was big.
New Year was celebrated in
much the same way as Xmas. You
got the same preparation, the
same portion was dealt out, and
it was not considered a good
form, if you were not treated as
well at New Year as at Xmas.
This was however not the case
among the poorer farmers. The
portion was smaller and the
candles were smaller but the
customs were the same, except
that you could play cards on
New Years Eve.
At last, it was customary to
make a small feast on the thir-
teenth Christmas Day" (6th. of
January). On that day outdoor
Work was finished earlier than
Usual, you got more and better
food than usual, and you played
cards until the early hours of
the morning, and you were not
Squired to work as well in the
morning as on other days.
And now Christmas is over.
The long fight with the winter
really begins. Now you have noth-
ing to look forward to, until the
spring with its green growth and
Summer with its warmth arrive.
HEATHEN YULE AND
CHRISTIAN CHRISTMAS
(Continued from page 2)
before to that Christmas fare and
indeed I was very hungry. But
I could hear nothing of my
brown-cowled guide in the corri-
dors, nor could I hear any sound
either in my wing of the mon-
astery nor anywhere else. The
darkness in the unlit corridors
was impenetrable; every single
window was darkened; nowhere
was there a glimpse of light, out-
side there was nothing but the
irain. I drank a glass of water by
way of celebrating this amazing
Christmas and went to bed.
Just as I -was beginning to
dream of the more worldly flesh-
pots which endear Christmas to
the less spiritual, I was woken
up. My guide was standing in the
open doorway with a lantern in
his hand and signalling to me
to get up at once. It was then
followed his lantern through the
endless corridors and found my-
self hack in the same obscure pew
as earlier in the evening. I
could see no more than before.
The shadows in the church were
flickering in the light of unseen
candles. I knew that down be-
low the monks were coming in
for each one fang a bell on the
door-post as he entered, and
later I heard the rustle of the
rosaries as they knelt in prayer
in the chancel. At last the dre-
ary Ambrosial chant began sound
ing as though it came from some
strange and distant world in the
depths of space. I held my
psaltar up to the light and foll-
owed the chants. This long-
drawn melancholy song from the
depths of the night — and a very
cold and draughty night at that
— lasted for rather more than
three hours. At last the monks
again prostrated themselves and
stayed for a while in prayer be-
fore they went out one by one.
My guide reappeared with his
lantern and conducted me again
through the labyrinthine corridors
to my room. I was very glad to
get back to bed and fell asleep at
once.
But the worldly pleasures of
sleep were not allowed to last
wishes you
GEFJUN, ASalstrseti The Compliments
of the Season.
I
long. Soon the brown-oowled fi-
gure holding his lantern was back
again at my bedside. He signed
to me to get up and follow him.
I jumped out of bed, my eyes
heavy with sleep. It was then
almost half past four. Once aga-
in he took me to the pew in the
corner and lighted my candle, the
ad matutinUm service now start-
ed in much the same way as
before and lasted until seven in
the morning. I sat by. the candle
with my psaltar, happy to be
celebrating for once in my life
a truly Christian Christmas.
At seven the so-called silent
masses began .lasting for two hours
amid indistinct mutterings and the
sounding of bells which seemed
no larger than thimbles. At last,
at nine o’clock, the monks were
ready to oelebrate High Mass
which lasted until half past ten.
When it was over, I went back
to my room. It had been a gran,j
Christmas night.
The whole of Boxing day was
also fast and stony silenoe reig-
ned everywhere broken only by
the praise of God which was sung
in the same indomitable way as
the night before. On the day
after Christmas the Father who
had visited me on the day of
my arrival came in as sudd-
enly as a gruBt of wind,
again pushed the hood back from
his head, put his watch
on the mantelpiece sat down
opposite me and said that this
time he had half an hour at his
disposal and shot straight off
into an interesting conversation
about the poor soul mentioned
above (which unfortunately I
have never actually notioed that
I possessed. For as we all know
the soul is not a concrete thing
but a theological conception). I
would like to mention here that
though my ways have differed
very widely from the ways of
Christianity, it remains my con-
viction that the finest, noblest
and in most ways the most per-
fect example of the human race
is a certain type of ascetic which
certain orders of the Cath olic
have succeeded in producing, and
this father who- talked to
me in Partridge Green was one
of them. This imcomparable type
of man is sometimes to be found
among the highest prelates of
the church and more than once
has sat on the papal throne.
On the third day of Christmas
the main festival was over, nor-
mal food was allowed and the
lay brother was allowed to an-
swer when I spoke to him. Be-
fore I left that evening my host
brought me a grey jug and
filled my glass with green chart-
reuse, of the kind that the monks
make themselves in the mona-
stery. This liqueur was unlike
any chartreuse I have tasted
either before or after. The fla-
vour possessed a strange indefin-
able charm which lingered in my
senses for three years afterwards.
H merry Christmas and
1; a happy New Year.
ij Oddfellow.

KRON wishes you
The Compliments of the Season.
| Blomaverzlunin FLORA
| wishes you
The Compliments
of the Season.
A merry Christmas.
HVOLL