three kings day

Our three kings have wandered about the house since Christmas day... following a star to the manger where the Christ child lays.
Naiya said, "No wonder the kings show up so late... they really got lost."  She would giggle each day that their morning location only found them further from the nativity on our Nature Table.
At last, they have arrived.

Three Kings came riding from far away,

    Melchoir and Gaspar and Baltasar;

Three Wise Men out of the East were they,

And they travelled by night and they slept by day,

    For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star.

The star was so beautiful, large, and clear,

    That all the other stars of the sky

Became a white mist in the atmosphere,

And by this they knew that the coming was near

    Of the Prince foretold in the prophecy.

Three caskets they bore on their saddlebows,

    Three caskets of gold with golden keys;

Their robes were of crimson silk with rows

Of bells and pomegranates and furbelows,

    Their turbans like blossoming almond trees.

And so the Three Kings rode into the West,

    Through the dusk of night, over hill and dell

And sometimes they nodded with beard on breast,

And sometimes talked, as they paused to rest,

    With the people they met at some wayside well.

"Of the child that is born," said Baltasar,

    "Good people, I pray you, tell us the news;

For we in the East have seen his star,

And have ridden fast, and have ridden far,

    To find and worship the King of the Jews."

And the people answered, "You ask in vain;

    We know of no king but Herod the Great!"

They thought the Wise Men were men insane,

As they spurred their horses across the plain,

    Like riders in haste, and who cannot wait.

And when they came to Jerusalem,

    Herod the Great, who had heard this thing,

Sent for the Wise Men and questioned them;

And said, "Go down unto Bethlehem,

    And bring me tidings of this new king."

So they rode away; and the star stood still,

    The only one in the gray of morn;

Yes, it stopped, it stood still of its own free will,

Right over Bethlehem on the hill,

    The city of David where Christ as born

And the Three Kings rode through the gate and the guard,

    Through the silent street, till their horses turned

And neighed as they entered and great inn-yard;

But the windows were closed, and the doors were barred,

    And only a light in the stable burned.

And cradled there in the scented hay,

    In the air made sweet by the breath of kine,

The little child in the manger lay,

The child, that would be king one day

    Of a kingdom not human but divine.

His mother Mary of Nazareth

    Sat watching beside his place of rest,

Watching the even flow of his breath,

For the joy of life and the terror of death

    Were mingled together in her breast.

They laid their offerings at his feet;

    The gold was their tribute to a King,

The frankincense, with its odor sweet,

Was for the Priest, the Paraclete,

    The myrrh for the body’s burying.

And the mother wondered and bowed her head,

    And sat as still as a statue of stone;

Her heart was troubled yet comforted,

Remembering what the Angel had said

    Of an endless reign and of David’s throne.

Then the Kings rode out of the city gate,

    With a clatter of hoofs in proud array;

But they went not back to Herod the Great,

For they knew his malice and feared his hate,

    And returned to their homes by another way.

                                                  -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

old woman autumn, la befana and a needle felted doll

A while back I made a needle felted Mother doll for our Nature Table.  Later I fashioned her a little family (daughter and farmer husband) and, as the seasons changed, a Lady Spring joined the clan.  For Autumn I wanted to introduce an older relation.  There was a story I remember hearing of an elderly woman (symbolic of the fading of the year) sweeping away the falling leaves and shushing all the little critters into the warm underground earth.  I thought I'd add both doll and that tale to our growing collection of afternoon puppet shows.  Alas, I couldn't find the story but went ahead and made the doll anyhow.  I figured I'd think up some yarn of my own and use this figure as grandmother in any number of other narratives as well.

Here she is from the back with green shawl and silver braids wrapped round the crown of her head.  Naiya saw her sitting on the mantle but really I wanted to introduce her in action...

When I asked my friend Yvonne if she knew of the story I had been unable to find (I mentioned it had an old woman and a broom), she gave me a copy of the beautiful Italian folktale "La Befana and the Royal Child of Light" as told by Carolyn McVickar Edwards.  It isn't the one I recalled but what a gem it is!  It's actually an Advent/Epiphany story very similar to that of St. Nicholas.

The legend tells of La Befana in her roll as a solitary baker and perpetual house cleaner and sweeper.   One day when a procession passes her home on its way to offer gifts to the Royal Child of Light, La Befana declines to join it but later has a change of heart.  She spends all day baking many delicious offerings, but when she finally finishes, the procession and the child are gone.  With broom in hand, she runs in search of them, is lifted into the air and flies off into the night with her basket of goodies tucked under her arm.  She never catches them, "but she flies each year across the sky, stopping at every house below.  She is looking for the Child who will light up the world.  La Befana is never sure what the Child may look like.  So she leaves her gifts at every home in case the girl or the boy within is the Royal Child of Light."

So while in Germany (and in our home) St. Nicholas sneaks in and leaves small gifts in children's boots on December 6th,  on January 6th in Italy, La Befana flies on her broom and leaves them sweets.

I liked the idea of telling this story now, as the lantern season and Hallowe'en approach.  The Child of Light has yet to enter our tales but the theme of bringing light into the darkness has already come and the imagery of a kindly woman flying on a broom to deliver sweets offers a nice correlation to all the witch lore and depictions we can't help but encounter during the season of goblins and ghouls.

If anyone knows of the sweeping Autumn woman story however, I'm still searching!  We can always use another seasonal narrative and with all the wonderful story-tellers and home-schoolers out there, surely someone must know the one I once heard...  Won't you please leave your Autumn stories and ideas in the comments?

epiphany

Growing up, this wasn't a day we recognized.  In Germany though, where my mother is from, this was the end of the Christmas season.  Their candle-lit tree did not arrive until Christmas Eve and it was taken down on the 6th of January.   It is on this day that some recognize and celebrate the coming of the magi or the three kings who followed a star to visit and bring gifts to the Christ Child in Bethlehem.  Other traditions recognize this day as the baptism of Jesus by John in the River Jordan and the moment that the Christ Spirit entered an earthly body and so changed the nature of our world forever.  The days since Christmas Eve are the twelve Holy Nights and epiphany marks their end as an acknowledgment of the manifestation of the Divine on earth.  Really though, as birth signifies, it is just a beginning.

These are the thoughts, stories and spirit upon which we reflect as today, in Oma's tradition, we take down the adornments of the season and clean, pare down and simplify our outer and inner world to prepare ourselves for the coming year.