The Octave of Hallowmas

It’s fascinating to mark the history of traditions.  Folk traditions are rooted in what the Church terms “pagan” influences.  But by the very fact that it is a tradition, little can be done to eradicate the practices.  So the Church absorbs them and incorporates them into its own heritage.  Yet, even so, those same religious rituals revert back to the folk tradition recollection and the religious element fades into obscurity.  The traditions surrounding the Octave of All Hallows exemplifies this cycle.

note the octagonal font, Saints in the upper left, dearly departed to the right
and the devout living reading Mass and saying prayers for the hallowed

In liturgical terms, an “octave” refers to an eight-day period of religious obligation that includes the full day of the recurrence of the first day—for example, the octave of All Hallows 2012 begins on Thursday and ends on the last hour of the following Thursday.  Each day during the octave is marked by special masses and collects that the devout were obligated to pray.  The eighth day of an octave in the days of the early Church was said to represent the Resurrection of Christ or new creation.  It is not coincidental that many baptismal fonts, including ours at Trinity Church, are shaped in the form of an octagon as a symbol of the baptized being newly resurrected into the body of Christ.

While the Church no longer really celebrates festal octaves (with the possible exception of Christmas, Easter and Pentecost), folk traditions for the octave of Hallowmas persist.  In the Christian calendar, the octave of Hallowmas begins on November 1—we call it All Saints Day—and ends on November 8 with the Feast of Saints and Martyrs of England.  (In our Episcopal Church, no harm comes in feasting Saints and Martyrs of whatever country in which we happen to live.)  Rather early in the octave, on November 2, comes All Souls Day, better known in most parts of the folk-traditional world as “the Day of the Dead.”  

Some traditions are born out of survival rather than symbolism.  One such case is that of “souling.”  In medieval Europe, people of impoverished means were a blight on society and given no consideration in government which figure the poor were the Church’s obligation. On All Saints Day, the poor would travel from house to house, exchanging a “soul” for a “soul cake” or some other trinket or food.  Over the course of the next eight days, they were obligated to say a prayer for each soul that was named to them.  Curiously, this tradition of “souling” became wrapped up in the wassailing tradition that generally occurred during the Christmas octave. (The carol Here We Come A-Wassailing is actually from a “souling” carol.  You can hear a version of Souling Song performed by Lothlorien here.) 

a modern day meal to entice the dead to return for a day

Many cultures, from the ancient Celts  to modern day Latin Americans, Philippinos, and even certain Christian faiths believe the time of All Hallows is a time when the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest.  The ancient Celtic celebration of Samhain (pronounced “saw-win”) was ostensibly to rejoice at bringing in the last of the harvest.  Bonfires would be lit for practical purposes of burning away the harvest waste, but also for the fantastic purpose of warding away the spirits of evil souls who might cross over in the dark night and thin air of late autumn.  Part of the celebration included dancing among the bonfires—dancing with the beloved dead and purifying one’s own soul as one passes between the fires.  Feasts were shared and places were set for those who died over that past year to nourish them on their journey into the afterlife.  Today, these traditions are still held in the Philippines, Mexico and a number of other countries around the world.  Often at these feasts, people would dress in masks and strange garb to hide themselves from malevolent spirits.  This was called “guising.”

As time alters all things, the traditions of “souling” and “guising” also modified.  As years sped by and people came to expect the poor to come begging each All Saints Day, they’d begin to leave out baskets of fruit, breads and other goodies.  When young children were not allowed to pilfer treats from the baskets, they were told stories  (borrowed from the samhain traditions)  about the dead who came to eat from these baskets.  Bad things might happen to naughty children if the dead discovered who stole treats intended for them!  Children donned hoods and made masks to resemble those who’d recently died and went from house to house threatening dire consequences if they did not receive a little treat.  Today’s trick-or-treat tradition may have evolved out of those old medieval traditions of “guising” and “souling” but the modern version is a fairly recent development in America.  In fact, trick-or-treating only became mainstream in the middle part of the 20^th century after a Canadian newspaper recalled the ancient traditions.

For some, the intuitive sense of closeness to the dead that occurs at this time of year is a feeling they are reluctant to let go.  It is for these people that the octave of All Hallows lingers for the full eight days. For the Church, All Saints Day glorifies the beatific and All Souls Day remembers the beloved departed.  In the Catholic tradition, All Souls Day is the time when human intercessions on behalf of those lingering in purgatory allow them access to Heaven. One would presume that the full eight days of the octave of All Hallows would be necessary to pray for all those who’ve departed this world! This Hallowmas, take a visit to a graveyard*—an old one—and read the names on the grave markers.  Remember the story of their life (make one up, since you might not know their real story) and remember that God created them and loves them still.

*A graveyard differs from a cemetery in that it is no longer an active burial ground while a cemetery still has plots for future graves.

Of Lost Causes and Zealots

The feast day of St. Jude and St. Simon, apostles, is October 28 (celebrated on the 29^th when the 28^th falls on a Sunday as happens this year).  In the various lists of the Apostles found in the New Testament, Simon and Jude fill the 10^th and 11^th seats.  Although, there is even speculation about that!  Some Biblical scholars believe the “twelve” was simply an arbitrary number assigned and that apostles were replaced in the event of death or apostasy (renunciation of the faith).

Simon and Jude were common names in Jesus’ time and among Jesus’ disciples.  In fact half of the apostles shared names: Jude and Judas, Simon Peter and Simon Cananean (the zealot), James the greater and James the less.  It is easy to confuse identities and lose individual stories.  This is the case with both Simon and Jude.  So little is known about either apostle that only speculation remains.  Here are your options; choose the one that brings you best comfort!

Both Jude and Simon are mentioned as being Jesus’ younger brothers, along with James.  In fact, it seems their brother Joseph was the only one to stay home.  But the gospel also mentions the second Simon to be chosen as one of the Holy Twelve was Simon Cananean.  Cananean derives from the Greek word meaning “zealot” and does not refer to the place.  Would one of Mary’s sons have become enthralled by the violent zealot party, bound to raise an army against Rome?  And yet, historians do consider that the Cananean reference was indeed a reference to Simon’s hailing from Cana.  Many place him as the son of Clopas and the bridegroom at the wedding where Jesus performed his first miracle.  So with Simon, you have three choices (or some combination of the three):

1.   Jesus’ baby brother who followed him around through some notion of sibling hero-worship;
2.   a zealot whose ulterior motive was to convince Jesus to gather his over 50,000 devoted followers into an army to fight against the Roman Occupation;
3.   the son of Clopas and bridegroom at the famous wedding (and who, one would presume left his new bride—or dragged her along with him— to follow Jesus around the countryside to what end one can only speculate).

Jude is no easier to identify than Simon!  Jude is commonly interchanged with Thaddeus.  This also is due to some interesting linguistic twists.  The name Judah, with an –ah ending is the same as Judas with an –as ending (hence names like Elijah=Elias, Jonah=Jonas, etc.) and anglicanizing the –ah spelling often transposed to –e endings (which were at one time pronounced).  Now, the name Judas is a variant on the Greek word for “godlike,” theudas, which alternate spelling of “Thaddeus” came to be an equivalent name to Jude.  (Think equivalencies as Peggy is to Margaret or Dick is to Richard.)  Thus, the common connection of Jude Thaddeus is to differentiate this apostle from Judas Iscariot.  Like Simon, Jude is also identified as being a younger brother of Jesus or the son of Clopas and the bridegroom at the wedding.  Thaddeus (and tradition connects this Thaddeus to Jude) was also considered to be one of the Seventy (thus not one of the original twelve) who was sent to Edessa.  However, there is a charming story about Jude, the Apostle that is perpetuated in art wherein Jude carries a portrait of Jesus.  The story goes something like this: 

King Abgar of Edessa, in what is now part of southern Turkey, was gravely ill.  He had been visited my man, many renowned and gifted physicians to no avail.  He’d heard of the miracles of one Jesus of Nazareth and as a last resort, he wrote to the man asking him to come to Edessa to heal him. (Agbar was not a true believer, but in desperation would grasp at any opportunity for relief.)  Amongst the party with the messenger, Agbar had sent and artist to render a likeness of Jesus that Agbar and his guards might recognize Jesus when he came.  Alas for Agbar, Jesus thanked him kindly for the invitation but declined.  He did, however, promise to send one of his chosen in his stead.  This was shortly before Jesus was crucified, and indeed, by the time Agbar received Jesus’ reply, the Passion and Resurrection would have already occurred.  Poor King Agbar’s condition deteriorated and he’d all but given up hope.  But then, Jude Thaddeus arrived bearing the portrait of Jesus.  King Agbar placed the portrait in a place of great honor in his palace.  Upon hearing the words of Jesus from the Apostle, King Agbar’s infirmities were miraculously healed.  This made him a believer and he converted to Christianity.  The portrait, in the meantime, became the first icon and was attributed a number of other miracles, including miraculously mirroring itself on a tile when it was hidden behind a wall (for safe-keeping during a war with the Persians) and oozing an oil that was used to fuel fire that eventually routed the Persians.

Jude and Simon were said to have been martyred together and are most likely the pairing that Jesus established when sending them out on their evangelizing missions.  With so little known about these most obscure of Apostles, we are left to speculate and romanticize their stories.  Perhaps King Agbar’s story of desperation is the reason St. Jude is considered the patron saint of lost causes.  Regardless of their historical obscurity, Simon and Jude are evidence that with God, there is no lost cause.  For surely, if brothers (I choose to believe the “brothers of Jesus” angle) can not only grow up together, but spend the rest of their lives on the road together preaching the gospel, then nothing is out of the realm of possibility!

Feasting on the Ox

Traditionally, the ox has long been considered the sacrificial choice of a large community.  For the ox can feed an abundance of people for a longer time than can mutton or fowl.  The ox, being a castrated and “tamed” beast, also represents a stability and reliability of nature. As the symbol of the ox came to represent the gospel of Luke (the largest and “meatiest” of the gospels, particularly in relating the biography of Jesus), it is not a far stretch to see how one might “feast upon the ox”.  Feasting takes on a whole slew of meanings in the context of Christian community.  October 18 is the Feast Day of St. Luke the Evangelist.

Luke, the Gospel Physician by Lars Justinen

St. Luke, the evangelist or the physician, is of course most well-known for his gospel and the Acts of the Apostles (which are attributed to him).  For a doctor, Luke was a prolific writer!  As with many early historical figures, little is actually known about Luke’s life.  He was born a Syro-Grecian gentile in Antioch.  Actually, the implication that he was born into a gentile family derives only from Paul’s distinction between Luke and other colleagues “of the circumcision” (implying Jewish faith).  But the idea of his gentile birth persists.  In fact, it is even speculated by some Church historians that he may have been born into slavery, for he was educated and trained as a physician as befitted the prestige of a master family. The earliest mention of Luke in the Bible appears in Paul’s epistles when he refers to “our friend Luke the physician”.  Luke became a follower of Paul and is referred to as “one of the seventy”.

Guercino's Luke Displaying a Painting of Mary

Scholars agree that both the third gospel and the book of the Acts of the Apostles were written by the same person, and indeed, the Acts were written as a sequel to the gospel.  The implication of Luke being the author (the author is not named in either writing) comes out of the “we passages” in Acts.  The author writes about Paul in the third person except during those passages where he switches to the second person plural, clearly identifying the author as a colleague and follower of Paul.  At the end of Paul’s life, only Luke is recorded as remaining further indicating him as the author.  Luke is considered an exemplary historian—at least in the accuracy of his descriptions and adherence to the beliefs of the time.  Through Luke’s writings we can learn much of the values and mores of his time.  Yet, much more is revealed about his own convictions.  Luke writes more about the poor and social justice than the other gospels.  He also demonstrates a greater affinity for the value of women—it is only in his gospel that the visitation of the angel to both Mary and Elizabeth are recorded.  There are more references to Jesus’ reaching out to strangers and foreigners in Luke’s writings than the other three gospels. This further suggests Luke’s foreign birth.

In art, the symbology associated with Luke includes an ox, often with wings, and Luke as a painter.  There is a legend of Luke being the first to paint Mary the Madonna and thus becoming the founder of iconography.  But there is no evidence to suggest that Luke was a painter.  Perhaps the allusion to his artistry is an acknowledgement of his literary talent. The gospels are each represented by a specific symbol.  Matthew is represented by a man because his gospel opens with a genealogy of Jesus’ ancestry.  Mark is represented by a lion—the voice that can be heard crying out in the wilderness—because it opens with John the Baptist preparing the way of the Lord.  John, the fourth gospel, is represented by an eagle.  For it is said that only an eagle can look directly into the light without being blinded and can soar into lofty heights.  John’s gospel opens with the mystical mystery of the incarnation of Jesus.  As mentioned earlier, Luke is represented by the ox because the ox symbolizes sacrifice.  Luke's prologue opens with Zachariah’s sacrifice and ends with the sacrifice of the Lamb of God.  His entire gospel circles around themes of sacrifice.

Along with traditional medieval ox-roast feasting, October 18 is frequently celebrated with services of healing. It just so happens that this year, the Feast of St. Luke falls on a Thursday.  Thursdays at Trinity Church include a healing service with Holy Eucharist (double the Saint Luke celebration!) at 10:30am.

Evangelizing with St. Philip

Remember when Jesus started to get a little cranky from being constantly surrounded by his crowds of devoted followers?  He loved the idea that folks were keen on his message, but didn’t love so much the hordes that kept dogging his heels (they always needed feeding, don’t you know…).  Well, Jesus was no fool; he had a plan!  It seemed reasonable that if he trained a few of the more charismatic and devoted disciples to become teachers themselves, he could really get his message out farther and wider.  Fast forward to the Acts of the Apostles.  As happened with Jesus, the Apostles had a flock of followers of their own who with their increasing numbers grew more disgruntled and disagreements occurred.  The Greeks in the group complained of being short-shrifted by the Jews, and the Jews never really overcame their bias against the Greeks as unclean gentiles.  So like Jesus before them, the Apostles found themselves attending more to settling squabbles and administrative detail than to the Word of God which was in imminent danger of neglect. They determined the time was right for them to choose their own disciples.  They chose seven “men full of Spirit and wisdom.”  These seven were supposed to tend to the mundane matters so that the Apostles could re-concentrate their efforts on preaching the Word.  Those seven extended a bit beyond that intention, however, and it is from them that we meet Philip the Evangelist, whose feast day is October 11.

In chapter six of Acts, Philip is described as one of the scattered who went through the country preaching the Word and performing miracles.  But his great story is that of converting and baptizing an Ethiopian.  This man was, unbeknownst to Philip, a high muckety-muck in the Ethiopian queen’s court and was in fact the treasurer.  After struggling with the meaning of certain passages from Isaiah, the poor befuddled fellow turned to Philip and confessed that he needed guidance.  And Philip spoke with such awe and enthusiasm about Jesus that the Ethiopian begged to be baptized right then.  This Ethiopian continued on his way home and through him the Ethiopian Orthodox Church was born.

St. Peter rebuking Simon Magus (Avanzino Nucci, 1620)

Dante's 8th circle of hell, reserved for the fraudulent, like simoners and sorcerers

Philip had been comfortably well-off.  He owned a home in Caesarea large enough to accommodate Paul and his entourage while Paul was evangelizing in the area.  Philip also had four daughters who had the gift of prophesy.  So Philip would have had a passing familiarity with the aura and atmosphere of mysticism that surrounds that kind of gift.  This familiarity may have had a blinding influence, however indirect, on Philip’s relationship with Simon Magus of Samaria.  Simon Magus was a sorcerer of great renown and popularity. But he was cunning and sly as well.  He figured out that this Christianity gig could be a real boost for his magic business.  He convinced Philip of his sincerity in converting to Jesus’ way and was baptized.  Simon followed Philip everywhere, capitalizing (quite literally) on the miracles Philip performed.  The Apostle Peter heard about Philip’s progress in Samaria and came to offer support.  When Simon met Peter, he bribed him with money to give him the power of the Holy Spirit.  Of course, Peter was appalled and cast him out, cursing Simon with eternal damnation.  A millennium later, Martin Luther refers to the sinful practice of the Church to sell indulgences, relics and favors as “simony” and includes the practice among his many reforms.  Dante Alighieri relegates practices of simony and sorcery to the third and fourth “malebolges” (evil pockets) in the eighth circle of hell in The Divine Comedy: Inferno. Simon, it is purported by early Church bishop Irenaeus, was the founder of a sect of gnostic heretics called the Simonians.  This sect was active for some two hundred years and concerned itself with the power of fire as the source of all wisdom and reason.

In analyzing the life and events surrounding Philip the Evangelist, we came begin to perceive connections in our own experiences with the modern Church.  Where are we in the spiral of growth and schism and newfound energy for evangelism?  Are we the bickering mob?  Are we like Philip—the hope of the Apostles, yet susceptible to misrepresentation?  Like Philip, we can but let the Spirit of God work in us and through us.  Take a moment or two tomorrow (on the Feast of St. Philip the Evangelist) to offer this prayer: 
Holy God, no one is excluded from your love; and your truth transforms the minds of all who seek you: As your servant Philip was led to embrace the fullness of your salvation and to bring the stranger to Baptism, so give us all the grace to be heralds of the Gospel, proclaiming your love in Jesus Christ our Savior, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.