WHEN I WAS living in Poland, I found that there was something immensely hallowed about Christmas there, making the joyous season of the birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ profoundly memorable.
During Advent, I remember waking up in the wee hours of the morning to make it for the early Roraty Traditional Latin Mass dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary, celebrated before dawn in almost complete darkness with only candles and small lamps.
“Rorate caeli desuper—”
The priest, reverently vested, stood at the dimly lit altar as incense rose heavenward. Outside, the world was still in slumber, but in the church, the faithful prayed the Holy Mass while anticipating the coming of Jesus Christ. Melodious Gregorian chants reverberated through the stillness of dawn, before the first rays of sunlight lit the sanctuary up.
Besides, I saw the Faith interwoven seamlessly into the tempo of everyday life, and throughout Poland’s cities and towns as Christmas was nigh. From parish bells exhorting people to frequent the Sacraments in preparing for the coming of the Savior more regularly to beautifully crafted crèches in shop windows, I was pleasantly reminded that Christmas and Catholicism in Poland was not merely a private devotion for a minority but a collective celebration as part of a shared Polish identity.
In a twinkle of an eye, the anticipation of Advent gave way to the excitement of Christmas Eve. As snowflakes started to pelt from the skies in the outskirts of Kraków, Poland, the kitchen in the house I was in was soon inundated with the aroma of beets, mushrooms, cabbage, and carp in preparation for the twelve traditional Christmas Eve dinner (Wigilia) dishes.
In a twinkle of an eye, the anticipation of Advent gave way to the excitement of Christmas Eve. As snowflakes started to pelt from the skies in the outskirts of Kraków, Poland, the kitchen in the house I was in was soon inundated with the aroma of beets, mushrooms, cabbage, and carp in preparation for the twelve traditional Christmas Eve dinner (Wigilia) dishes. For one, simmering barszcz (beet soup), preparing sauerkraut with mushrooms (kapusta z grzybami) and kneading dough for pierogi was both ritualistic and exciting at the same time. I was astounded how every action pointed toward God, family and a sense of recollection.
Dinner began once the first star, also referred to as the gwiazdka, appeared, as all present at the table recounted the Star of Bethlehem manifesting Our Lord Jesus Christ as the Messiah. Each of the 12 dishes, symbolizing the 12 apostles of Jesus, was meatless but delectable and aromatic. In particular, I enjoyed passing around the opłatek (thin wafer) with my fellow diners, as well as wishing them God’s blessings, health, peace, and love for the upcoming year.
“Niech Bóg ci błogosławi”, “Wesołych Świąt” (“Merry Christmas”), and “Zdrowia, szczęścia, pomyślności” (“Health, happiness, prosperity”) were some of the more common Christmas wishes used. I felt the sincerity cut straight to my heart. The breaking of the wafer was more than tradition; it was a quiet act of grace, a tender exchange of humanity.
In particular, I enjoyed passing around the opłatek (thin wafer) with my fellow diners, as well as wishing them God’s blessings, health, peace, and love for the upcoming year.
After our stomachs began to be filled, the Polish Christmas carols, or kolędy, a feast of the ears indeed, started. Stanisław Dobrzycki, a Polish researcher, reportedly stated that “probably nowhere else in the world is Christmas carol such an element of national identity, wonderfully loved and cherished by the whole country, as it is in Poland”.
Due to my limited knowledge of the Polish language, I found myself humming along to the tune of these melodies instead of singing the lyrics. Yet I was partial towards certain hymns, including “; and how these carols were not merely sung by many devout Catholic Poles across the years, but prayed in all earnest.”
When dinner was finished, we donned ourselves in thick coats and headed out for Pasterka, or Midnight Mass. During Mass, the fragrance of incense and beeswax, blended and curled their way into the air, as the choir chanted heavenly hymns like “Cicha noc” (“Silent Night”). After the priest uttered the solemn words of Consecration and elevated Our Lord Jesus Christ in the Holy Eucharist for all to adore, the silence of the congregation was so deafening that I could detect the hushed breath of people in deep prayer. Indeed, I recognized once again in that humble Polish chapel where I attended Midnight Mass the humility of our God made flesh and lying in the manger centuries ago in the faraway land of Bethlehem. As I turned my head towards a side altar venerating the Black Madonna of Częstochowa, I could only marvel at the magnaminity of the holy Virgin Mary as She brought forth Her Divine Son Jesus to the world that first Christmas night.
Till today, that one Christmas in Poland remains indelibly etched in my mind, demonstrating how the Catholic Faith with which I was nursed from the cradle in tropical Singapore lived on in faraway Poland.
After Mass, people lingered around the patio, exchanging Christmas greetings like “Wesołych Świąt”— “Merry Christmas” with embraces and laughter. The wintry night no longer felt cold or blustery, but fulfilling, hopeful, and most importantly, holy.
Till today, that one Christmas in Poland remains indelibly etched in my mind, demonstrating how the Catholic Faith with which I was nursed from the cradle in tropical Singapore lived on in faraway Poland, amidst the snugness of soft candlelight, the melody of carols, and the redolence of pine trees. True enough, the joy I felt that Christmas season in Poland years ago was profound, peace-filled, and Christ-centered.
