Lughnasadh and Lammas
consecrated bread and demon mice
If you liked reading this, feel free to click the ❤️ button on this post so more people can discover it on Substack 🙏
Hello, hello. Many new Hedge Mystic subscribers have joined us in the last week or two, and I want to welcome all of you. I'm so glad you're here and part of our growing community.
Generally, on the last Thursday of the month, I post Ten Good Things, interesting and inspiring content from around the web for you to enjoy. However, this month the last Thursday falls close to a significant seasonal festival. So, I will skip Ten Good Things and focus on the seasonal celebration since living the seasons and honoring the Wheel of the Year is a primary focus of Hedge Mystic.
It's hard to believe that July, a month with no Wheel of the Year celebration, is nearly over, and the next turn of the Wheel, August 1st, is nearly here. I'm seeing little indications that summer is reaching its peak and autumn, or harvest season, is about to begin. I know it's still summer, and many of you dread autumn because it's the precursor of winter. Plus, here in New England, October is harvest season culminating with Thanksgiving in late November. But the ripening of the earth happens gradually and beings long before we pick our last pumpkin.
I love the whole harvest/autumn vibe, so years ago, discovering two festivals, Lughnasadh (pronounced loo-nah-sah) and Lammas, that fall on August 1st, opening a long harvest season, was fascinating. These two different but seasonally related festivals encompass what we can call "late summer." They define the character and essence of this time of year until the start of autumn on the autumnal equinox in late September.
Late summer is a luscious time. The scorching heat of July begins to mellow a little, and nights and early mornings start to cool. Nature gets plump. Berries ripen, nuts begin to come to maturity, and the leaves of the swamp maples start to turn crimson in August. Tree swallows begin forming large flocks and prepare for their long migration south; monarch butterflies lay their last eggs, and the generation that hatches will also make a long migration south. Grasses get tall and go to seed, and weeds abound. In fact, the Old English name for August is Wēodmōnaþ, meaning weed month.
We stand at the cusp of a new movement on the ancient Wheel of the Year. This ever-renewing cycle of seasons will continue as long as the earth remains. We can find great comfort and wisdom in the school of the seasons. We may experience upheaval, loss, sickness, and heartache in our personal lives and witness war, famine, and political intrigue in the wider world. Governments and entire civilizations may collapse and disappear. What was once mighty may come to ruin and be no more upon the earth. Still, the cycle of the seasons, the never-ending, familiar, and reassuring Wheel of the Year, will continue to turn, summer becoming harvest and winter renewed by spring.
The Seasonal Wheel is an ever-present reminder that this, too, shall pass; the bitterness of winter always gives way to the tender new shoots and sweet blossoms of spring. If snow-covered ground and stilled, icy waters eventually thaw, there is hope that our sadness and suffering will ultimately give way to renewal and healing in our souls.
Within the enormous natural and cosmic Wheel of the Seasons, we find ourselves (in the northern hemisphere) ready to step into a season marked by two festivals. (If you're down under, check out my article on Imbolc here.)
Reviving Seasonal Celebrations
We at Hedge Mystic are all about reviving these celebrations. Although removed in time from their beginnings and widespread observance, I invite you to celebrate the one that resonates most strongly with you. Or weave them together as I do, creating a renewed, more complete, and well-rounded honoring of what our ancestors knew and loved in their seasonal celebrations.
First, we will touch on Lughnasadh. You may see this festival with various spellings and associated customs. It's a Celtic festival, Old Irish in origin but as with many agricultural festivals, its origins may be much older. This festival is a tribal assembly in honor of the Celtic god, Lugh, who was "many-skilled." Lughnasadh is a festival marking the first harvest of the entire harvest season. Our Merry Folk has an outstanding post on The Origins of Lughdnasadh which I encourage you to read. Here's a small quote from the article to illuminate what characterized the festival of Lughnasadh.
Lughnasadh was the celebration of the coming harvest and July was a time of petitioning the gods for protection against storms and heavy rain which risked destroying the crops. Springs, wells and lakes played an important role during this festival for purification rites and sacrificial offerings. Horse racing was said to have been an invention of Lugh's and took place both in and out of the water. An extremely dangerous sport, it was practiced during Lughnasadh, with the men risking being killed by chariot or horse. It appears that horses may have also been ritually drowned during the festival. In the Dindsenchas (a collection of Irish sagas that served to explain place-names) Lug drowns his horses in a loch. It does not explain why he did this, but it does resemble a sacrifice. Apart from sports, Lughnasadh was a time of tribal gatherings, feasting and retellings of tribal lore. The feast of the Emperor Augustus and the Capitoline Triad (Jupiter, Juno and Minerva) was celebrated at this time too, eventually replacing Lughnasadh. ~ Our Merry Folk, The Origins of Lughnasadh
The "first harvest" similarities between Lughgnasadh and Lammas have led to speculation that Lammas may be the renamed remnant of an earlier Pagan harvest festival, specifically Lughnasadh; there is no definitive evidence for that. It is more likely that the beginning of harvest was always felt to be sacred in agricultural societies. So much depended on a bountiful harvest because the community's survival through the winter depended on it. But also, there's a reckoning with natural forces. Hail, destructive rainstorms, early killing frosts, and early snows could all decimate the crops tended with such effort and anxious hope over so many previous months. In this, we see our ancestors, both Pagan and Christian turning to their deities, rituals, prayers, chants, spells, and praise in hopes of quelling the uneasy knowledge that much that happens in the world is beyond our control. I can imagine that at each harvest stage, grain, fruit, and vegetable, a sigh of relief was felt once the precious foodstuffs were securely stored away to ward off the hunger of a cold, long, and possibly lean winter.
The (relatively) more recent Lammas is what we will explore today.
Lammas
Lammas is the festival that resonates most strongly for me. I feel far more separated from Lughnasadh regarding time and culture than Lammas. However, I do find the fierceness of the tribal aspect and the potential ancientness of the Lughnasadh celebration grounding as if a long line of ancestors becomes accessible as they celebrate a critical moment in their survival, rejoicing over a plentiful harvest that will see them through the winter. That strikes a very primal and universal human chord in me.
Lammas is an Anglo-Saxon Christian festival that opens a loosely defined harvest time from late July through September when harvesting is actually being done. Lammas is the first harvest festival of the Anglo-Saxon year. The Anglo-Saxon period in Britain spanned from approximately 410 AD to the Norman Conquest in 1066 AD. Before that, the Romans occupied Britain, and before that, the Celts. The Anglo-Saxon period is often considered a "dark" age, not because the people were ignorant, superstitious, or uncivilized but because very few written documents survived. Our hindsight is darkened, and much of what happened is hidden from our backward-looking glance. Thus Lammas is something of a mystery. It's mentioned plenty of times in the Anglo-Saxon literature we do have, but what was done to celebrate it is never mentioned.
It was called in Old English Hlæfmæsse. Hlaf means "loaf,bread," and mæsse signifies "mass or festival." This is a Feast of Bread, so the wheat or barley harvest is most likely being celebrated. I have often heard Lammas called "the little harvest," though I don't know the origin of that naming. (If you do, let us know in the comments.) I suspect it has something to do with the more modern Wheel of the Year designations of the three harvest festivals, Lughdnasadh/Lammas, Mabon/Autumn Equinox, and Samhain/Halloween.
Lammas is a grain harvest, grain being very tiny, and Mabon is a harvest of larger tree fruits like apples and pears. Samhain marks the final crops to be harvested, large root vegetables, squash, and pumpkins. No matter the origin, I like the idea of Lammas being a "little harvest" as it comes in late summer at the very beginning of the harvest season when we are just beginning to reap the bounty of what was sown so many months ago in spring. This, of course, can be taken metaphorically. At Lammas, I often reflect upon what is just beginning to be ripe and ready to harvest in my life, even if it is small and just a glimmer of what will come later. Lammas always feels like a sweet promise of bigger and better future things.
Looking back at the Old English word Hlæfmæsse I referenced above, I found this interesting linguistic insight from Eleanor Parker in her book Winters in the World, A Journey Through the Anglo-Saxon Year,
The evolution from hlaf - to - la in the modern form is comparable to two words with the same root, 'lord' and 'lady': these words ultimately derive from the Old English compounds hlafweard and halfdige, which originally meant something like 'bread-guardian' and 'bread-kneader,' suggesting those who protect and provide for a household.
I love this little insight into the connotations and origins of the words Lord and Lady and their very close association with nourishing and life-sustaining bread. Just think about what that brings to the ideas conveyed in the minds of Anglo-Saxons in their social structure, sagas and myths, and understanding of sacred or Biblical texts. The Lord, whether a political, social, or sacred figure, is responsible for guarding the bread and protecting and providing sustenance for his people. It's a very caring and benevolent role. Then there is The Lady responsible for kneading the dough, perhaps giving it to us to bake, hinting at a partnership between the land and the farmers and between The Lady and the women who baked the bread.
Weaving Connections, Past, Present, Pagan, Christian
From here, my mind wants to gather some threads and weave a bit, combining colorful strands to make an image. This is neither scholarly nor scientific; it's simply an intuitive impulse in the sacred ground of my soul seeking out patterns of spiritual significance.
I'm immediately reminded of the verse in the Hebrew scriptures, the Christian Old Testament; I will fetch a morsel of bread, and comfort ye your hearts - Genesis 18:5. Explore that with the understanding that The Lord and The Lady are the bread-guardian and bread-kneader and something extraordinary transpires within our heart, the knowledge that we are comforted and cared for through bread both physical and metaphysical.
Then there are the countless names for Our Lady in the Catholic Christian tradition, which can be reimagined. Our Lady of Perpetual Help could become The Kneader of the Bread of Perpetual Help. Our Lady of Grace transforms into The Kneader of the Bread of Grace. Our Lady of Consolation offers us The Kneader of the Bread of Consolation, and the list could go on and on.
Of course, the famous line in the Pater Noster (The Our Father aka The Lord's Prayer or perhaps the Bread-Guardians Prayer?) mentions "our daily bread." This would never have escaped the notice of our Anglo-Saxon ancestors. King Ethelbert of Kent, married the Christian Frankish princess Bertha which may explain his openness to Augustine, the missionary from Rome and Bertha's priest. Ethelbert took a few years inquiring, discussing, and deciding if switching to the new religion would benefit himself and his kingdom. Eventually, he did, and the Kingdom of Kent was formally Christianized around 600 AD, the first English King and kingdom to do so.
Anglo-Saxon Lammas Ritual
In Eleanor Parker's book I mentioned above, I found this fascinating look into how our Anglo-Saxon ancestors conducted their sacred rituals. I don't mean what priests and clergy did in church but what the local Christian farmer did when he wanted to protect his grain harvest from mice!
Take two long pieces of four-edged wood, and on each piece, write a Pater Noster, on each side down to the end. Lay one on the floor of the barn, and lay the other across it, so they form the sign of the cross. And take four pieces of consecrated bread which is consecrated on Lammas Day, and crumble them at the four corners of the barn. This is the blessing for that. "So that mice do not harm these sheaves, say prayers over the sheaves and then hang them up without speaking. City of Jerusalem, where mice do not live and cannot have power, and cannot gather the grain nor rejoice with the wheat." This is the second blessing. "Lord [here remember the connotation of "Lord" as the Bread-Guardian] God Almighty, who made heaven and earth, bless these fruits in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. And Pater Noster."
This may appear to our modern eye as pagan or witchy, like a spell. We might be tempted to conclude that this is a hold-over from pagan harvest rituals or simply a reworking of something older and pagan with a Christian veneer painted over it. But that's not likely the case. Remember, King Ethelbert converted his kingdom around 600 AD, and this ritual of protection for the harvested sheaves of grain comes from an 11th-century manuscript; four hundred or so years later, we're well into the era of Christendom.
Creating sacred, protected space through personal ritual is something humans have always done since the dawn of our consciousness. It's just that since the Reformation and Enlightenment, we've progressively lost our connection to this sacred power, even in our religious institutions. We've been culturally and socially conditioned to scoff at anything that hints at superstition or magic. But in reality, embodied actions like this protective ritual are something we're hard-wired to do, and it would be good if we regained our comfort and ability to engage in these kinds of acts.
Demon Mice?
Now, what's up with “City of Jerusalem, where mice do not live and cannot have power and cannot gather the grain nor rejoice with the wheat? “ I have no idea except to say that mice, because they can be so destructive (which you will know if you've ever had mice in the walls of your house), may have, in this context, been thought of as agents of the devil sent to harass the farmers by harming their harvest. So, yeah, demon mice.
Whether you identify more strongly with the ancient Celtic Lughnasadh or the Anglo-Saxon Lammas, this first harvest festival highlights a few things as we cross the threshold into August and late summer.
First, there is the need for a sensitivity that allows us to see that while it may feel like summer, the earth is changing, and the Wheel of the Year is turning again.
Second, harvest time is a time of rejoicing but also a time of anxiety. While we've done all we can to ensure our harvest, many things are beyond our control. Our crop, even when gathered and stored, is still vulnerable. Ponder here the symbolic meaning of harvest as it applies to your inner life, personal and spiritual growth. What threatens it, and what protects it?
Third, this vulnerability causes us to turn to a spiritual power to bless and protect us. Consider what it means to bake the bread in partnership with The Kneader of the Bread of Perpetual Help.
Finally, bread, the staple food of agricultural life and the thing we run to the grocery store to buy whenever a storm is predicted should be consecrated and held as holy. This last point asks you to consider what is the simple, humble, and fundamental food of your spiritual life. How can you honor it as sacred?
Lughnasadh and Lammas are an invitation to begin a transition into a new part of the year outwardly and inwardly. We're rejoicing in the harvest for the next few months, yet at the same time, we are marching unrelentingly into the darkness. Consecrated Lammas Bread (yes, that does sound a lot like the elvish Lembas bread from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings) is given to fortify us on our journey.
Are Lughnasadh and Lammas new to you? Do you love autumn and harvest time or dread them as heralding winter? Do you practice personal and embodied rituals as part of your spiritual practice? What helps you move from one season to the next? Will you bake a sacred loaf of bread to celebrate this year? Let's share our insights, experiences, and stories in the comments.
The comments section is a safe and welcoming space to share your insights and experiences.
Comments and conversation are always appreciated and enjoyed, so feel free to let your voice be heard. I read them all and try to respond to each one.
Thank you for reading Hedge Mystic and participating in this vibrant and growing community of creative, spiritual humans. You are always welcome here, appreciated, and loved.
If you liked reading this, feel free to click the ❤️ button on this post so more people can discover it on Substack 🙏
Discussion is encouraged. Leave your reactions and insights in the comments.
Thank you for this, Jan. It's a time of grief and transition for me and your ending questions hit home. You put into words what I've been feeling but hadn't yet articulated. I will be baking a loaf for Lammas. Fresh bread for each day, right?
Both Lughnasadh and Lammas are new to me, and I appreciate the chance to learn about them. As a former farmer, I see harvest as a welcome time, when the hard work yields tangible (edible) results. And, when the fields are done producing, there is a welcome slowing, time to breathe again, take stock. For that reason, and more, I have always loved autumn.