Soon the evergreen Laurel alone is green, / When Catherine Crownes all learned menne.
November 25: Catternday
Soon the evergreen Laurel alone is green,
When Catherine Crownes all learned menne.
Welcome, friends. I’m Kristin: a Pacific Northwest artist, mom, & farmer offering support for seasonal, local, liturgical living. Together, we’ll explore the agrarian heritage of the Church calendar and ideas of sacred time & sacred place.
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Keeping a liturgical Book of Hours binder helps me to distill all of the inspiration I find, so I can easily look to the elements that have been most inspiring and nurturing for our family & community.
I have some sweet Cattern Day additions for your liturgical binder! Including a cover page with art emblematic of her feast and her hagiography (legend says that a dove fed her heavenly food when she was imprisoned), as well as seven pages of prompts, history, poetry, plantlore, meal ideas, scripture connections, and more.
My paid subscribers can find this (as well as lots of other printables) in the Scriptorium:
CURVING TOWARD ADVENT
These waning days of November, when our descent into the cold & dark days of winter is felt so keenly, come bearing gifts: strings of feasts and traditions that steadily call us to align our posture toward Advent and Christmastide.
St. Augustine described ‘sin’ as being the condition of being incurvatus in se:1 curved in toward ourselves…a tightened, restrictive posture rather than an expansive one engaged toward God and neighbor.
We’re prone to fold into ourselves. And in this time of darkness, when the season itself fosters introspection and reflection, we’re faced with a dilemma: how do we lean into the reflective invitation of this time without succumbing to inward-facing patterns? How do we re-shape our posture, uncurl ourselves to look hopefully toward the midwinter Nativity?
Helping to unfold us, readying us for our Advent journey,2 is St. Catherine of Alexandria: a legendary 4th century martyr, St. Catherine was a scholar well-versed in studies of philosophy and theology. When the Emperor Maxentius summoned citizens to Alexandria to sacrifice to idols, youthful St. Catherine didn’t just passively refuse: she debated with the Emperor, using her uncanny gifts to dissuade him.
Standing at the temple entrance, she argued at length with the emperor by syllogistic reasoning as well as by allegory and metaphor, logical and mystical inference. Then she reverted to the common speech and said: “I have taken care to propose these thoughts to you as to a wise person, but now let me ask you why you have vainly gathered this crowd to worship the stupidity of idols. You wonder at this temple built by the hands of artisans. You admire the precious ornaments that in time will be like dust blown before the face of the wind. Marvel rather at the heavens and the earth, the land and the sea and all that is in them. Marvel at their ornaments, the sun and the moon and the stars, and at their service - how from the beginning of the world until its end, by night and by day, they run to the west and go back to the east and never grow weary. Take note of all these things, and then ask, and learn, who it is who is more powerful than they; and when by his gift you c=have come to know him and have been unable to find his equal, adore him, give him the glory, because he is the God of gods and the Lord of lords!”
Jacobus de Voragine, excerpt from the Golden Legend’s “Life of St. Catherine of Alexandria” (translated by William Granger Ryan)
Unable to contend with any of Catherine’s points, and so impressed by her inspired acumen, Maxentius invited fifty of the most learned pagan philosophers to come discourse with the girl. Each one of them was converted by the experience; less through points of debate, and more through the remarkable authority that flowed through Catherine’s arguments.
Calmly she sate, and disputation held
With all those mighty masters of the mind,
Alike on sciences and curious arts,
On all thy varied forms, Philosophy!
And higher still, Theology divine. In admiration, mixed with awe, the crowd
Of listeners hung upon her silvery tones,
The while with wondrous eloquence she spake
The might, the majesty of Heaven’s ways
Revealed to man!Ellen Fitzsimon, excerpt from “The Legend of St. Catherine of Alexandria,” from the Irish Monthly Magazine (1873)
The Emperor swiftly had all these philosophers killed, and he imprisoned St. Catherine. She was visited by both the Empress and the captain of the guard, and her wisdom converted these two as well.
Furious, Maxentius attempted a now-legendary execution of Catherine: he ordered for her to placed upon four rotating wheels, all studded with nails and saws. When St. Catherine was laid upon the wheels, though, they miraculously shattered. She was ultimately beheaded, having turned the hearts of so many people toward God.
Centuries later, in these dark November days, we find ourselves greeted by St. Catherine. Both the Saint herself, as well as generations-worth of accumulated tradition borne from the dialogue between folk tradition and Catherine’s testimony, help us to refocus our attention, re-shape our posture, just days before Advent leads us toward Christmas.
In many ways, St. Catherine’s story feels less like a celebration of apologetics, and more of grateful wonderment at her illuminated mind & soul – an inner light that she didn’t hold onto as a private balm, but instead reflected outward, magnifying her received wisdom out to others.
MAGNIFYING LIGHT
Born from illustrious stock, Katherine,
shining like a lily, noble too with the gift of purity, crystalline jewel,
light of virgins, bride of Christ, light in the church,
a red rose through your martyrdom.EX ILLUSTRI NATA PROSAPIA, CATHERINA
from Codex Las Huelgas (14th c.)
Winters in the Pacific Northwest are notoriously bleak; we don’t get storms so much as we get low-hanging grayness, a perpetual mist of rain, that settles in and often stays for months. These days on the farm are, to some extent, naturally bordered by limitations of light, warmth, and moisture: the early darkness, the falling temperatures, and the persistent wetness mean that certain tasks simply aren’t done in this season. Evening animal chores are finished earlier, and then we can – with great fortune – retreat to a cozy spot by the wood stove. In so many ways, my natural posture is a wintry one: prone to reflection, an enforced time almost perfectly suited to reading, writing, drawing, cozy meals by the fire.
There lies the rub: my innate tendency toward self-reflection can easily be bent toward a posture of extreme rumination. It can easily turn from being a prayerful modality for growth to a self-focused limitation – hiding a lamp under a bowl,3 and in the growing darkest days of the year.
I do, after all, look to the liturgical calendar - to the way it enfolds the natural seasons - as a dynamic cycle of holy prompts that help me to reconsider the pace and the focus of my days. To learn how to grow in new ways by living within the natural boundaries of each season.
In the darkness of late-November, though, St. Catherine asks us to hopefully push back against these boundaries – to begin to light candles in defiance of early nightfall. She didn’t just refuse to sacrifice to idols in a passive, quiet statement: she reflected the wisdom that she’d received back to everyone she encountered, changing forever the trajectories of their lives.
I find that lighting a candle to push back against these boundaries of darkness is, strangely, essential to aligning with the pace of this dark season; in a divine economy that defies our categories and rationale, I somehow adopt a slowed, quiet winter pace more readily as I simultaneously push back against it through engagement.
For grete sekenes, there schall we have helth;
For wepyng teres, we shall have lawhyng joye;
That place haboundeth evyr more in welth,
That place in sikir hath nevyr no noye,
It is more sikir than evyr was the toure of Troye
Fro schot and treson; therfor thedir I glyde.
Whan I shall dey, Cryst shal be my gyde.John Capgrave, excerpt from “The Life of St Katherine” (a Middle English life of St. Catherine in verse) (15th c)
God revels in paradox: death brings life, letting go is counted as gain, and I savor the darkness of winter when I illuminate it. Somehow, my days of wintry hibernation are more complete when they’re lived as extensions of winter activity: reflecting light outward, reaching out for others, reaching out (and in) for God.
In the ongoing tradition built from St. Catherine’s story, and continually grafted into her feast, we see this outward-facing invitation. Farms were quiet, with the growing season over, and hearthside trades were leaned upon: spinning, lacemaking,4 fiber arts of all kinds. St. Catherine lends her patronage to these (as well as scholarly fields), and it’s here by the fire that we find her story so beautifully illuminated through folk memory and custom.
After weeks of waning daylight, Cattern Day was, in many regions, the traditional marker when lacemakers would begin to extend their days artificially, pushing back against the early nightfall. On this day, they would begin to light candles to extend their artful working hours; St. Catherine’s feast was even known as Candle Day5 among many communities.
“The people of Wendover (Bucks) called Catterns ‘Candle Day,’ it being the first day on which they commenced to make lace by candlelight… At the lace schools the girls and boys danced in a ring around the great lace-makers candlestick…”
Thomas Wright, excerpt from The Romance of the Lace Pillow: Being the History of Lace-making (Volume 1) (1924)
This was no small thing: candles were preciously expensive, and Catterntide’s gentle pushback against the growing darkness was accordingly marked with festivity. With the lighting of Cattern candles came strolling traditions like Catterning (similar to Souling, at Hallowtide, this was a house-visiting custom in which food & prayers were doled out); games like Cathern Candle Jump (which most of us know as Jack Jump Over the Candlestick); Cathern bowls of mulled cider; dancing, music…
As nights are only growing longer, the lighting of candles was turned into a ritual celebration, and communities gathered to reflect that light back out into the darkness.
Lacemakers even found ways of magnifying their candlelight within their circles; a candle block was set in the center of the space, with a central candle surrounded by glass globes. Filled with water, the light from a single, central flame became magnified through the globes, spreading further to the lacemakers toward the outer edges.
And isn’t that what we’re all called to be? Not the flame itself: but the glass magnifying it, stretching its light further & further into the darkness.
As we begin to turn our attention toward Advent, we can learn to gently push against the darkness, and – paradoxically – rest more assuredly in its midst.
BENEDICTION
Born from illustrious stock, Katherine,
shining like a lily, noble too with the gift of purity, crystalline jewel,
light of virgins, bride of Christ, light in the church,
a red rose through your martyrdom.
A glittering virgin and very noble,
conquering false arguments,
teaching the good and not knowing a man, becomes resident in the glory of God.
Bride of Christ, light in the church,
a red rose through your martyrdom.
A virgin blossoming but not knowing a man,
driving from you the intimacy of a man:
we ask you that, in your grace,
you may ask him whose power reigns without end through the ages,
to grant us the palace of heaven.
Born from illustrious stock, Katherine,
shining like a lily.EX ILLUSTRI NATA PROSAPIA, CATHERINA
from Codex Las Huelgas (14th c.)
I’ll hop off for now - we’re about to start welcoming folks for our (early) Cattern Day celebration here…including a spinning wheel, to try our hand at spinning wool for St. Catherine!
Will you be celebrating St. Catherine this year? How do you find your way through the winter?
Pax et bonum,
Kristin
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See St. Augustine’s Confessions.
In older instantiations of the calendar, as well as in the Eastern church, St. Catherine’s feast is within Advent.
“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that[a] they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16 ESV).
St. Catherine’s patronage of lacemaking has a complicated history, with the intersection of other possible lace-related Catherines: Catherine Parr & Catherine of Aragon. Nonetheless, lacemakers took St. Catherine of Alexandria’s feast as their celebratory time, and lacemaking became part and parcel with Cattern Day. See “Legends of Lace: Commerce and Ideology in Narratives of Women’s Domestic Craft Production” by David Hopkin.
“Candle Season,” beginning in many regions at Cattern Day, would then end on Candlemas (February 2).
As always my liturgical friend, this post has illuminated my mind, heart and soul with knowledge of a person, tradition and celebration that is new to me. We are beginning summer here but my own personal season is one of reflection and inwardness after losing my parents. Still, I pray most days to be light and love in people’s lives, to reflect that of Jesus. This is a task I take seriously and so to read of another Catherine was timely and meaningful. I see you, Kristin, as using your own natural reflective nature in a hugely powerful way. Your words come from that place of inwardness and then come out to the world and bless us with ideas and wisdom. I will re read this post and celebrate the feast with candles in my own home. Thank you yet again for providing this wonderful space.
This is so beautiful, I think I'll want to read this one a few times. You've packed so much in here and I love it!