When did Saint Lucy team up with the Gingerbread Men? How to recycle a Saint.

Being a temporary resident in Rome, not much of mine and my family's everyday life and routines are the same as back home in Sweden. One thing though seems hardly impossible to escape as a Swede, no matter where in the world one reside or travel: the annual celebration of Saint Lucy, or 'Sankta Lucia' as the Swedes put it.
Lucia was, according to legend, martyrized in Syracuse in 304 during the Diocletian persecutions and after several dramatic events: a failed attempt to burn her alive, an equally unsuccessful attempt to make her walk naked through a brothel, and according to later traditions even after having her eyes gouged out. She is celebrated in Sweden as in Italy on December 13th, but - when these two are compared - in most different contexts and interpretations.

The mortal remains of Saint Lucy in Saint Jeremiah church, Venice

Saint Lucy is a popular saint in Italy, and is celebrated in various ways in different Italian cities (an overview in Italian Wikipedia here) though always in a religious Catholic context. In Sweden, however, saints are generally not celebrated since the Reformation in 16th century, and if their pictures for some reason still were around in the churches after that, they had to be clearly washed from all religious and (as the general view on Catholic practices was) 'superstitious' connotations. And yet: The magnitude of Lucia celebration in Sweden equals that of Christmas Eve (which is when Swedes celebrate Christmas. On Christmas Day most Swedes just relax in comfy clothes, eat fudge and cookies or - possibly - have friends and relatives over for dinner). How can this be? And how should this Swedish and very beloved, yet not religious, Lucia be understood?

Saint Lucia, or Lucy, in traditional saintly pose: Holding the palm of martyrdom, and her own gouged eyes on a plate.

The Swedish Lucia celebration became popular and widespread as late as in the early 20th century, but existed already in the 18th century high society. Crucial to understand Lucia's popularity and role in Sweden is the fact that Sweden is a very dark country in December, and the fact that Lucia is celebrated on the day of the Winter Solstice; her function as 'Bearer of Light' ('ljusbärarinna'), the many candles and songs about the returning light in the midst of darkness, and the accentuation of the original saint being burnt at the stake (however unsuccessfully) all go back to this popular Darkness-Turned-Light tradition.

Traditional Swedish Lucia procession with Lucia, her maids, and the boys called "Star Men", alluding to S:t Stephen but wearing cone shaped hats of 'magi', magician's. Be warned: This gang is likely to show up in a church, a school, a retirement home, an office, by a Nobel Prize winner's hotel bed, in a Swedish embassy or an IKEA warehouse near you on December 13.

Lucia in Sweden appears traditionally with a crown of candles in her hair, dressed in white and with a red band around her waist - 'to symbolize martyrdom!' someone sometimes state, despite the general non-religious context. She is surrounded by maids, also in white and with glitter in their hair, and Star Men or 'S:t Stephen's Boys' ('Staffansgossar'), and here we go again: The legend of S:t Stephen following the star of Jerusalem and pointing to it before King Herod was the subject of a popular play in Sweden at least as early as 17th century, and the legend was performed by young theology students going from house to house with big paper stars, sometimes also with Virgin Mary, S:t Joseph, S:t Jude, the Three Kings and other characters from the Bible. We know of this custom not only through appreciating descriptions, but also through court protocols stating that the young boys sometimes were paid in strong drinks and became less pleasant after a number of performances. This led to a prohibition of S:t Stephen's plays in some parts of the country, but as we have seen this tradition, too, was re-installed and re-interpreted within the cultural and non-religious frames of the Sankta Lucia celebration.

A reenacted S:t Stephen's play in Vallentuna, Sweden, early 1980's. King Herod, his soldier, Stephen with the largest star, the Three Kings (or Wise Men), and Virgin Mary. (The latter with slight resemblances to this blogger...)

Today Lucia is celebrated in all possible places and contexts, from pre-school to retirement homes and hospices, in private homes and on national television. Not uncontested, though. In recent years, debates on various political and xenophobic topics have turned up in mid-December. For exemple: Should the National Lucia have blonde hair, or can she have brown complexion and black, curly hair (as was the case in 2012 TV broadcast Lucia celebration)? Can one of the traditional songs about S:t Stephen, in same TV broadcast, really be performed as a rap by a famous artist from an immigrant family? And does the National Agency for Education permit this quasi-religious performance in a school context, when public schools according Swedish law should be non-religious? (The answer to this question was that most of the traditional Lucia songs, despite being about saints, Jesus and other religious matters, were declared non-religious since they were, instead, part of Swedish cultural heritage. As a researcher on heritagised religion I get happy goose bumps by declarations like this.)

What all Swedish parents ask their children some days before Lucia: 'Do you want to be Lucia, Maid, Star Man, Gnome or Gingerbread Man?' Keeping Lucia equipment up to date is no piece of cake.

As a conclusion to understand what Swedish Lucia really is, I strongly recommend Swedish Lucia for Dummies on YouTube. Despite being narrated in a satirical and joking mode, the details are most accurate.

Needless to say, the Swedish re-interpretation of Lucia also generates numerous interior decorating items, such as this lamp.

So, is the case of S:t Lucy unique as an example of a recycled saint in a Protestant context? Well, certainly not. The previously mentioned S:t Bridget of Sweden has been through many different labels and interpretations since her hay days in 14th century, and in the 1920's a large scale celebration of her in Vadstena, Sweden, was strongly debated in local press. It was considered most inappropriate to celebrate a Papist saint and to risk letting the luring Catholicism into Swedish society. On the other hand, it was stated, S:t Bridget was a 'valuable part of our Swedish Cultural Heritage'. Today, the shrine holding parts of her remains is in focus for pious prayers as well as for front edge DNA research; both piety and science can make use of an old saint, it seems.

S:t Bridget's shrine in Vadstena convent church. Materiality, or holy matter, as an object of devotion.

S:t Bridget's shrine and relics carefully examined and analyzed by researchers. Materiality, or holy matter, as an object for research and knowledge.

Sacred, heritage, or a hybrid? The more I follow the clues in these matters, the harder it gets to formulate an accurate answer. The step from a martyrized virgin in 4th century, via centuries of Christian devotion, to where the Gingerbread Men start showing up in IKEA can seem very long, but when regarded as series of interpretations and re-charges, responding to cultural premises and moral and legal conditions, the picture changes. And: in all its integrity, the eye of the beholder is an ever present and non-negotiable factor. Be there Gingerbread Men or not.

Byproducts of death: Thoughts on the fate of bones

Head of Saint Catherine of Siena (1347-1380) 

In my department, Culture and Media Studies, a group of likeminded colleagues has started to discuss and write on various topics connected to the research field called Death Studies. It all started somewhere early this year with an e-mail popping down in my mailbox, where a Professor just wanted to check if anyone was interested in meeting and talk about death. This is one of the many great things with this job: I suspect such an approach doesn't appear in every office, but it did in mine.

Already up to my knees in the death field (since museums and heritage are tightly related to death, and also to rebirth), and after having received a blessing from one of my supervisors, I happily joined what is now commonly referred to as "the Death Group" (one simply has to like that, right?). It soon was obvious that the concept of "death" triggered a vast range of topics and aspects in our interdisciplinary circle; from the semi-death in cryonics, via zombies and dumpster diving, to Medieval Pietà - and much more in between. In June a special issue of Kulturella Perspektiv ("Cultural Perspectives") was published in Swedish, where my contribution bore the title (translated) "Death in the Souvenir shop: Mortal Remains as Cult and Curiosities" and touched upon the many layers of charging and re-charging in Christian relics.

In brief, I wanted to describe how the many similarities between the concepts 'heritage' and 'sacredness', similarities that are one of my starting points for my PhD project, partially derive from the collecting and veneration of relics. These relic collections eventually developed into art cabinets or proto-museums, and then into Western European museums as we are used to see them.
Relics could and still can be found in the shape of actual human remains, or as second and third degree relics, meaning something that has touched the remains or something that has touched something that was once touched by the saint - a contagious sacredness that is physically transmitted. Relics also strongly emphasizes the material aspect and the sensual relationship to sacred objects, an aspect that has been highlighted by Caroline Walker Bynum in Christian Materiality (2011) and Charles Freeman in Holy Dust, Holy Bones (2011).

Saint Bridget of Sweden (1303-1373): Here, there, and everywhere

From a museological point of view, what I find particularly fascinating is the constant re-charging and creation of new and very different narratives connected to relics. Saint Bridget of Sweden, for example, was not only a well documented spiritual person in 14th century Europe, she was also of royal ancestry and did not hesitate to intervene in high politics. When she died in Rome her body was 'ossificated', which meant the soft parts of the body were removed, and her bones (except for some of them that remained in her house in Rome) were carried in a shrine to Vadstena, Sweden, where she had founded her first convent. Like many bone relics from the Middle Ages and even from the times of the first Christians, Saint Bridget's bones can now be found in a number of countries, settings, contexts and narratives; a small flake of her bones was given to Uppsala Cathedral by Bridgettin sisters in the 1980's, an act that caused an animated debate since the cathedral is Lutheran and the veneration of saints and relics is not commonly accepted there. However, a special silver shrine was made and the relic was given an honorable place in a choir.

Just a few miles away, in 17th century Skokloster Castle with a collection of around 50,000 objects preserved through families and centuries, another flake of Saint Bridget is kept. Here, though, no silver shrine has been made and no veneration takes place, because this part of the Saint's bones is cathegorized as a museum object. It is properly listed in the museum inventory, and dated "19th century" probably due to the papal certificate from that time stating the authenticity of the bone fragment. What is Bridget doing there, in a Baroque collection containing numerous other things but not of a specifically pious character? The answer lies in one of the previous owners, the noble Brahe family, who (wrongly, as it later turned out) proudly announced themselves to be related to this famous saint and thus also of royal blood. This assumed relationship resulted in the collecting of Bridget memorabilia of various sorts and qualities, where the relic is just one of many items.

In my short article I ended up in the souvenir shop, where third degree relics are sold amongst the postcards and amulets with no specific demands on belief or intention with the buyer. I asked how we should understand this multi-layered existence that is a relic: as layer upon layer of death, or as a rebirth upon rebirth as new and different existences? This topic is fascinating, even without having touched upon the excitements of other aspects such as secular relics (pieces of hair etc from famous persons, Jimi Hendrix' guitar - or what's left of it - and so on), and I was glad to hear this morning when meeting my fellow Death Group members that our exploration of death and its connotations will go on and probably result in a publication, and perhaps also in a workshop or conference.

This, dear readers, is one of the many geeky sides of Academia: How contemplating Death can make you feel so vibrantly alive.