A Polish meal of faith on Christmas Eve

As we make our way towards Christmas, I reflect on how Catholics of Polish ancestry make that journey. My wife is likely to be spending much of December 24 preparing for the Wigilia (Vigil) supper, one of the key moments in the annual rhythm of Polish Catholics.

As is typical of continental Catholic Europe (and in contrast to much of the Anglo-American world), the accent is on Christmas Eve and, particularly, Christmas Eve Supper. The Wigilia supper shares some things in common with European Catholic Christmas Eve suppers—it is meatless, considering that it was only after Vatican II that Christmas Eve ceased to be a day of abstinence.

But, while some might call the elements folkloric, I would suggest that the Wigilia retains important religious elements that have become part of the fabric of this familial celebration. Here are some observations and reflections.

Liminality: Wigilia remains meatless because December 24th was a day of abstinence. But that does not just reflect slavish Slavic adherence to now-obsolete canonical discipline. Other European Catholic traditions (the Italians, for instance) also keep a meatless Christmas Eve supper. Wigilia remains part of Advent. It remains part of the period of Christmas preparation, leading to the truly important element: Midnight Mass (Pasterka).

In this, Polish Wigilia keeps distinctions much of the larger society has lost. Indeed, much of Advent is arguably not so much a preparatory period for Christmas as a “run-up” to Christmas, with celebrations and parties not so much “preparing for” as “anticipating” Christmas. Wigilia represents a different approach to time, which recognizes palpable differences between “preparation” and “celebration”.

That distinction is, paradoxically, obvious in the strongly rooted (at least in America) practice of celebrating Sunday Masses already on late Saturday afternoons. Calling them “vigil” Masses is wrong, because they are not vigils but the actual Mass of the day, given canonical standing in terms of fulfilling one’s dominical obligations. That most people revert to their normal Saturday routines after Mass makes clear they are not a “vigil” that introduces Sunday as much as an anticipated celebration of Sunday. Which poses the question: do we really know how to wait?

Wigilia never starts before sunset. Indeed, the ritual marker for when the meal begins is when the youngest child in the family spies the first star in the sky, allusions both to the Good News that comes from a Child and from the Star of Bethlehem.

Prayer and Scripture: Wigilia starts with those gathered at the supper table in common prayer. It often also includes reading from the Scripture, typically Luke’s account of Christ’s birth in Bethlehem and its announcement to the shepherds (tradition calls for some straw to be placed under the tablecloth).

Before anything is eaten, those gathered for Wigilia exchange opłatki. This is a square wafer, of the texture and taste of Eucharistic hosts, which each person receives. Others then approach each person, break off, and consume part of the opłatek, wishing that person what he needs in the coming year and asking forgiveness as required.

The opłatek has an obvious allusion to the Eucharist. That said, it is a sacramental that is more intended to express something that has been unduly overlaid on the Eucharist itself: a fellowship meal. Before one partakes of the physical bounty of the table, this exchange seeks to establish the bonds that should bind those at the table. In that sense, it also anticipates the true Eucharist at Midnight Mass. That it is focused on the fellowship that should unite creation is clearer, perhaps, in rural Poland, where there is also the custom of feeding some of the opłatek to one’s farm animals, with whom one also has certain bonds and, arguably, even dependencies.

The Social and Eschatological Dimension: There is always an empty table place and chair set at the Wigilia table. It has both practical and symbolic meanings.

Practically, it was a place for any wayfarer who might have found one’s way to one’s door: the poor, the alone, those far from home. (That happens: I recall having a young woman from Poland, a university student alone in Taipei when we were living in Taiwan, join us for Wigilia). Symbolically, it commemorates not just the needy but the faithful departed. Those who once sat at this table should not be forgotten. One of the most popular contemporary Polish Christmas carols, “Kolęda dla nieobecnych” (A Carol for Those Not Present) sums up that communion of saints thusly:

And give us faith that this all makes sense.
That we should not mourn our friends.
That—wherever they are—it’s good for them
Because they are with us, even if under another form.
And convince us that’s how it should be
That the air still trembles with their voices,
That they’ve left in order to live
And—this time—they will live eternally.

After the meatless meal (which, according to custom, should have twelve dishes), it is customary for the family to engage in singing Christmas songs and preparing for Midnight Mass.

Gift-giving can occur on Wigilia night but usually more so on Christmas Day. Remember, too, that Polish children receive presents on the feast of St. Nicholas (December 6) and occasionally on Epiphany (January 6), so the focus of gift-giving on Christmas itself is more of a foreign import.

Forty-six years have passed since the election of St. John Paul II. Among the things many people noticed about the “Polish Pope” was the integration of faith and life. Part of that came from his background: the Church was not just “part” of life for many Poles, but it was a way of living and seeing the world that shaped and formed how they approached the rest of life.

It didn’t necessarily take “Christendom” to foster such faith/life integration, but it did require an awareness that being Catholic could not be doffed like one’s clothes after Sunday Mass, accommodating the situation or political need of the moment. Consider: even the Wigilia, a family Christmas Eve meal, is suffused with those faith elements.

Wesołych Świąt! Merry Christmas!