There is a tradition in my native Denmark, borrowed from Sweden, that on the 13th of December, schools have a “Lucia Procession” where girls (and often boys too) dress up in long white gowns. They walk through the corridors of the school, carrying candles and singing a traditional carol, with a Lucia bride at the front who is wearing a crown with several lit candles! I have been thinking about this since a recent visit to our local school to discuss our Christingle service, where we decided not to light everyone’s candle due to previous experiences with singed hair and minor catastrophes. Instead, we will have a Christingle for each class lit at the front and the children get to take their own one home. In the case of the Lucia procession, I understand that most of the candles will now be electric ones, most likely for similar reasons.
Lucia, after whom the tradition is named, was a Martyr around the year 300, and the songs that are sung are songs about carrying light into dark places. Very apt at this time of year in my native Scandinavia where winters are dark and long with few or no daylight hours at this time of the year.
Based on legend, tradition and the distant memories of the Church which has been around for so many centuries, the song most often sung looks like this in translation:
Now you will carry light,
crowned with such splendour
into the darkest place
now we will send our
light this Lucia day.
Be welcomed here, we say:
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia!
In our Baptist churches, we don’t often talk about saints, but in recent years, we have begun to spend a little more time thinking about those people who have served as good examples to us, and to the church more widely. We talk, for instance, about Rahel o Fôn, William Carey and many others as some of the inspirational figures – and about Saint Columba, Dewi Sant and others too who have left a legacy of Celtic thought and practice in this area.
Like these Lucia processions, the church is meant to bring light into the world. Not its own light but the light that we all borrow from Jesus, who is the light of the world. We are privileged to be allowed to reflect something so special – the love and light of God – into the world, and to share what we have been given. We are not perfect – and fortunately we don’t need to be. We just need to allow our hearts to be set on fire with love and compassion and gratitude.
Perhaps you know someone who could do with a little light, or perhaps you have received a little light and life from someone recently? Is there anything you can do to pass on what you have been given and to express gratitude and joy?
If so, why not carry the light with you into the world today?