The Feasts and Food of Advent

W hile Advent isn’t as solemn as Lent, this liturgical season of preparation still asks some sacrificing of those who participate. This atmosphere of sacrifice can seem at odds with all the major feast days sprinkled throughout the beginning of December, but in reality, they are wonderful markers along the path to Christmas.

Since I was very small, Advent has been my favorite season. Yes, I was excited about Christmas coming, but I also loved all the traditions and preparations our family participated in each year throughout December.

How many feasts are in this month? Well, in the three or so weeks before Christmas, there are the feasts of Saint Francis Xavier (December 3), Saint Nicholas (December 6), the Immaculate Conception (December 8), Saint Juan Diego (December 9), Our Lady of Loretto (December 10), Our Lady of Guadalupe (December 12), and Saint Lucy (December 13) — to name a few. For my family, three of these dates were especially significant and were always celebrated with a special treat or meal.

Back in 2020, I wrote about my favorite of these traditions: our Saint Nicholas party — now sadly paused until grandchildren are old enough for the event to mean something. In its golden era, however, this was a day of no school and much scurrying and preparation. The kids were in charge of the evening’s entertainment, and despite various bits of bickering and stage mishaps, we managed to put on all sorts of funny Christmas or Saint Nicholas–themed shows over the years. But while we were sweating in the basement footlights, Mom was holding down the kitchen fort, preparing wonderful treats. The party simply wouldn’t be complete without her signature cinnamon raisin bread (the batch that makes three generous loaves), and a huge pot full of spiced cider that scented the whole house in the most delicious manner.

We would, of course, go to Mass for the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception on December 8, but our next big feast night came on December 12, when we celebrated Our Lady of Guadalupe. Ages ago, we would have enchiladas on this feast, a dish which I, alas, detested. Eventually, we moved on to the much more acceptable tacos, but my favorite years were when Mom had time to make chicken fajitas. We’d gather around the dinner table, listening to the still-sizzling meat, and start our regular meal blessing — only to pause as someone remembered we hadn’t brought out the banner with the image of Our Lady on it. One child would be dispatched to bring the banner to the dining room, where it would be hung in a place of honor. A few times over the years, Mom attempted fried ice cream, and it was always delectable. The day was never complete without a reading of Tomie de Paola’s stunning The Lady of Guadalupe picture book, now happily back in print.

Later, after the dishes from dinner were dried, we started preparations for our next celebration: the feast of Saint Lucy.

Eyeballs. That’s the first symbol — usually lying in a dish in her hand — to greet you as you approach a statue of Saint Lucy, and it can be rather unsettling. Especially when you realize they are meant to be her eyes. Some accounts of this early martyr’s life say she was tortured for her faith and her eyes plucked out by her jailers, then miraculously restored to her by the grace of God. Saint Lucy is one of the earliest saints that Catholics venerate, and she is even mentioned in the first Eucharistic Prayer during the Mass. Supplicants often ask her intercession for eye issues and diseases, which is where she entered my life all those years ago.

My parents asked Saint Lucy’s intercession for my eyes after I was diagnosed with glaucoma at six months old. Her feast is very dear to me, and like other special family patronal feasts throughout the year, we tried to celebrate it in style. For us, this usually involved cinnamon rolls, the oldest daughter dressed up in a long white gown with a crown of (fake) candles on her head, and a wake-up call to our parents with the words “Saint Lucy invites you to breakfast!” in the wee hours of the 13th. Some years, our cinnamon rolls have taken the form of a braided ring loaf, and for the past few feast days, my mom and I have both tried our hand at the traditional Swedish lussekatter, an “s”-shaped pastry studded with currants (or raisins, in our case) and tinged a golden-orange by saffron in the dough.

While I’m not able to celebrate these feasts as fully now, I’ve been discovering small ways to continue to incorporate them in my Advent preparations, and to bring others into the joy of these days. This year, that meant handing out chocolate coins to my children’s choir the weekend of Saint Nicholas Day. It meant hosting a dinner party for the Immaculate Conception where we feasted on pork loin, cheesy baked mashed potatoes, and rolls; sang “Immaculate Mary” and toasted our Lady with hot toddies; and discussed Jane Greer’s moving poem “Micha-el.” It meant a small celebration on Saint Lucy’s feast for the trial run of a new dessert: “Eyes of Saint Lucy” (Lemon posset).

Yes, it is sad to not celebrate these feasts at home anymore, surrounded by family and sharing meals with them. But this new chapter has helped me to dig more deeply into these feasts and see the message at the root of all the festivities and food, which my parents were so beautifully trying to pass on to my siblings and me. These celebrations, scattered throughout our Advent fasting, are reminders of what’s to come. They teach us to fast well so that we may feast well, and to remember that our one true goal is that great heavenly feast, to which we are all invited.