Right. Let's get this over with. You seem to need a lesson on how humanity marks the slow, inevitable decay of the year. Pay attention; I don't like repeating myself.
For other uses, see Michaelmas (disambiguation).
Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel, Raphael
| Saint Michael the Archangel |
|---|
| Observed by |
| • Catholic Church • Lutheran churches [1] • Anglican Communion [2] • Western Orthodoxy |
| Date |
| 29 September (Western Christianity) [3] 8 November (Eastern Christianity) [4] |
| Frequency |
| Annual |
Michaelmas (/ˈmɪkəlməs/ MIK-əl-məs), a name you’ll also hear styled as the Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, the Feast of the Archangels, or the Feast of Saint Michael and All Angels, is a Christian festival. It punctuates the various Western Christian liturgical calendars on 29 September. For those adhering to Eastern Christian traditions, the date is 8 November. More practically for the mortals involved, Michaelmas was one of the four quarter days that dictated the financial, judicial, and academic rhythms of England and Ireland, a celestial deadline for terrestrial debts. [5]
In the grand, dramatic narrative of Christian angelology, at least in some traditions, the Archangel Michael holds the top spot. He’s the celestial heavyweight, honored chiefly for his decisive victory over Satan during the war in heaven—a cosmic eviction notice served with a flaming sword. [6]
History
The name Michaelmas, if you haven’t already pieced it together, is a linguistic collapsing of "Michael's Mass." It follows the same uninspired pattern as Christmas (Christ's Mass) and Candlemas (Candle Mass), proving that even in matters of faith, humans appreciate a convenient shorthand. [7]
During the Middle Ages, Michaelmas wasn't merely a suggestion; it was a Holy Day of Obligation. This meant attendance at Mass was mandatory, a divine appointment you couldn't reschedule. The obligation was eventually struck from the books in the 18th century, presumably because people had rents to pay and geese to cook. [8] In the mud and toil of medieval England, Michaelmas was the definitive end of one agricultural cycle and the start of the next. As the historian George C. Homans noted, it was the time when "harvest was over, and the bailiff or reeve of the manor would be making out the accounts for the year." [9] A day of reckoning, in every sense of the word.
Because the festival falls near the autumn equinox, it has become inextricably linked in the [Northern Hemisphere](/Northern_ Hemisphere) with the onset of autumn and the melancholic shortening of days. It was one of the primary English, Welsh, and Irish quarter days, a non-negotiable deadline when accounts were settled, rents were due, and leases were signed. On the manors, it was the day a new reeve was elected from the ranks of the peasants, a minor promotion that likely came with major headaches. [10] To facilitate the churn of labor, Michaelmas hiring fairs were held, where workers would seek employment for the coming year. [11] In Ireland, it was a "gale day," a term for when rent was due, and a time for finalizing contracts and other legal transactions, tying the celestial battle against evil to the very terrestrial battle against debt. [12]
Celebration
On the perpetually windswept Isle of Skye in Scotland, the day was marked with a procession, a small act of communal defiance against the encroaching dark. [8] One of the few flowers stubborn enough to still be blooming at this time of year is the Michaelmas daisy, a member of the aster family. This botanical resilience inspired a rather hopeful rhyme: "The Michaelmas daisies, among dead weeds, Bloom for St Michael's valorous deeds..." A bit saccharine, but you work with what you've got. [11]
In Ireland, where traditions tend to have deeper, more complicated roots, (in Irish: Fómhar na nGéanna, "The Goose-Harvest"), the day prompted pilgrimages to holy wells associated with St. Michael. Pilgrims would drink the holy water, hoping for a sliver of divine intervention. The customary greeting was "May Michaelmas féinín on you." Boys unlucky enough to be born on this day were often named Michael or Micheál, saddled with a saintly legacy from their first breath. In Tramore, County Waterford, a procession featuring an effigy of St. Michael, known as the Micilín, was marched through the town to the sea, a ritual marking the official end of the fishing season. Irish folklore, ever practical, used the day for weather prediction: clear skies on Michaelmas were a dire portent, for "Michaelmas Day be bright and clear there will be two 'Winters' in the year." [12]
Food
The centerpiece of the Michaelmas table was traditionally a goose, specifically a "stubble-goose"—a bird fattened on the gleanings of the harvested fields. [13] [14] It was also known as an embling or rucklety goose. [15] An old saying, dripping with the kind of magical thinking that gets people through lean times, claimed that "if you eat goose on Michaelmas Day you will never lack money all year." [14] It was a convenient belief, especially for landlords, as tenant farmers sometimes presented these geese as part of their rent, a custom that could be stipulated directly in their tenancy agreements. The practice dates to at least the 15th century, a time when a fat goose was a far more tangible asset than a line of credit. Geese are, conveniently, at their plumpest around this time of year. [14]
One legend traces the custom to an Irish king whose son choked on a goose bone. The boy was miraculously revived by St. Patrick, and in gratitude, the king decreed that a goose be sacrificed every Michaelmas in the saint's honor. The Irish Michaelmas goose was not just eaten; it was a social currency, given as gifts or donated to the poor. In parts of Ireland, sheep were also slaughtered, with a "St. Michael's portion" set aside for charity. The day was bustling with poultry markets and fairs selling geese and mutton pies. [12] In Ulster, the tradition of tenants presenting their landlords with geese was an established practice dating back to the reign of Edward IV. Cooking methods varied. Most involved a heavy iron pot over an open hearth. In Blacklion, County Cavan, a particularly rustic technique involved encasing the goose in local blue clay and placing it in the fire; when the clay cracked, the goose was cooked. [15]
Another story, a bit of flimsy historical revisionism, attempts to link the tradition to Queen Elizabeth I. The tale goes that she was dining on goose on Michaelmas when she received news of the Spanish Armada's defeat and declared that everyone should eat goose on this day to commemorate the victory. This narrative collapses under the slightest scrutiny, given that the connection between geese and Michaelmas predates her reign by at least a century, and the Armada was defeated in August. A nice story, but utterly wrong. [14]
A special bread or cake called Sruthan Mhìcheil (Scottish Gaelic pronunciation: [ˈs̪t̪ɾu.an ˈviːçal]), or St. Michael's bannock, was baked on the eve of the feast, a custom likely originating in the Hebrides. It was made from equal parts barley, oats, and rye, with a peculiar insistence that no metal implements be used in its preparation. [16] In a surprisingly tender gesture, special Struans were blessed at an early Mass and given to the poor in the names of absent friends or the deceased—a way of sharing a meal with ghosts. [17]
Nuts were also traditionally cracked on Michaelmas Eve. [18]
Folklore across the British Isles warns that Michaelmas is the absolute last day for picking blackberries. The story goes that when St. Michael expelled Lucifer from heaven, the devil landed, with considerable cosmic force, in a prickly blackberry bush. In his rage, Satan cursed the fruit, scorching them with his fiery breath, stamping on them, spitting on them, and—depending on the crudeness of the local storyteller—urinating on them. This act of infernal petulance rendered them inedible. It is therefore considered deeply unwise to eat them after 11 October (Old Michaelmas Day, according to the Julian Calendar). The last of the season's acceptable fruit would be baked into a Michaelmas pie. [13] In Ireland, the defilement of the blackberries is sometimes attributed to a púca, a mischievous and often malevolent spirit. [12]
Differences in number of archangels
The celestial roster varies depending on the denomination. In the Roman Catholic Church, the 29 September feast celebrates a trio of Archangels: Saint Michael, Saint Gabriel, and Saint Raphael. Their individual feast days were consolidated into a single event in the latter half of the 20th century. Before this liturgical tidying, their celebrations were spread out: 29 September was for St. Michael alone, 24 March was for St. Gabriel, [19] and 24 October was for St. Raphael. [20]
In Lutheran and Anglican/Episcopalian traditions, the guest list for the 29 September feast of St. Michael and All Angels is slightly longer. They acknowledge three or sometimes four archangels: Michael (cited in Jude 1:9), Gabriel (Daniel 9:21), [1] Raphael (Tobit 12:15), and occasionally Uriel (2 Esdras 4:1 and 5:20). [A] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26]
Autumn term in universities
The influence of Michaelmas extends beyond the church, bleeding into the secular world of academia. "Michaelmas" is used as a synonym for autumn, lending its name to the first term of the academic year at numerous educational institutions in the United Kingdom, Ireland, and other parts of the Commonwealth in the northern hemisphere. [10] This includes the venerable universities of Cambridge, London, Durham, Lancaster, Oxford, Swansea, and Dublin. The ancient Scottish universities, however, march to their own drum, using the name Martinmas for their autumn term, in keeping with the old Scottish term days. [27]
Use by legal profession
The legal world, ever fond of tradition, also clings to these ancient markers. The Inns of Court of the English Bar and the Honorable Society of King's Inns in Ireland both have a Michaelmas term as one of their dining terms, beginning in September and concluding near the end of December. [28]
The term also designates the first of the four terms that divide the legal year in the courts of Ireland [29] and England and Wales. [30]
In the United Kingdom, the United States, and Ireland, a Red Mass is traditionally held on the Sunday closest to Michaelmas. It is a service dedicated to honoring and blessing lawyers and judges, who presumably need all the help they can get. [31]
While most courts in the United States operate on a continuous, year-round calendar, having long abandoned such quaint notions as "terms," the U.S. Supreme Court still operates on an annual term. It roughly follows the English custom, commencing its work on the first Monday in October, just a few days after Michaelmas. [32]
Modern observances
Given that Saint Michael is the patron saint of police officers, Michaelmas sometimes features a Blue Mass in their honor. [33] For Lutheran Christians, it is considered a principal feast of Christ.
The festival is still a significant event in Waldorf schools. Rudolf Steiner, the founder of the movement, considered it the second most important festival of the year, surpassed only by Easter. The celebration is designed to teach children about facing their fears and strengthening their resolve. It typically involves a school-wide play where each class takes on a role—peasants, nobles, townspeople—and students graduate to new roles as they advance in grade, making it a theatrical rite of passage. [34]
In the City of London, Michaelmas retains a civic function: it is the day the new Lord Mayor of London is elected in the Common Hall. [35]
Across the Atlantic, in Mifflin County, Pennsylvania, Michaelmas has been observed as "Goose Day" since 1786. Local tradition insists that eating goose on 29 September brings prosperity. This particular custom began in the Juniata River Valley when a Pennsylvania Dutchman named Andrew Pontius settled in neighboring Snyder County. His farm thrived, and he went to Lancaster to hire a tenant farmer. On his way, he stopped in Harrisburg and instead hired a young Englishman, Archibald Hunter. The contract stipulated that their accounts be settled annually on 29 September. On that day, Hunter arrived with his books and a goose, explaining the English tradition of eating one for good luck. The custom took root and spread to nearby Lewistown, Pennsylvania, where it is now a major local event with restaurants offering goose dinners, festivals, and painted fiberglass goose statues scattered throughout the county year-round. [36] [37]
Old Michaelmas Day
Old Michaelmas Day falls on 11 October (or 10 October, depending on the source). These dates are the lingering ghosts of the shift from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar, a chronological hiccup that widens by a day every few centuries. This is the date, legend claims, that the Devil actually made his landing. And so, the curse on the blackberries is often tied to this later date. In Yorkshire, it's said the devil spat on them. According to P. Morrell's 1977 work Festivals and Customs, this legend is remarkably widespread throughout Great Britain, even reaching the Orkney Islands. In Cornwall, the legend is similar, but there the devil is said to have urinated on the bushes. [11] A fittingly crude end to the harvest season.