#hallowtide

Empty place settings for our beloved dead.

I say in my blog’s description that I don’t call myself a witch because my ancestors wouldn’t like it. So I go by cunning woman or kořenářka (Cz. herb woman). Yet here I am asking all my friends and mutuals to plan a witchy dinner party! Sorry babičky (Cz. grannies)!

My fictional witchy dinner party is at sundown on November 1, the Eve of Dušičky (Cz. All Soul’s Day). After all, what better day to break bread with my witchy friends than Svátek zesnulých (Cz. The feast of the dead)?

In my original post inviting everyone to play the game I asked, “Who are we hanging out with? You can invite anyone—anyone real (tag some of your mutuals!), alive or dead or even fictional.”

I have two important groups of people I want to invite, first my witchy friends—who I’m hoping will assist me in guiding the second group to the party—our beloved dead. Yes, not just my ancestors, but any of my friends who wish to participate in the ritual are welcome to invite their ancestors to dinner as well.

The hromnička, or thunder candle was used in weather magic, but also was lit when someone in the household was dying.

For the veil is thinning and the ancestors walk. I’ve lit candles, including my hromnička, in the window to guide our dead. Bells would have been rung in the churches (unofficially) to guide the ancestors home, so I’m providing bells for us to ring that I consecrated earlier this year. There are empty seats at the table, set with dinnerware awaiting our beloved ones.

Thrift store find, turned into magical tools

I invite anyone who is comfortable doing so to join me in a traditional Czech prayer for the souls to lead them home:

“Let us remember the souls from purgatory

Let us help them move on,

They will remember us in turn when our own time comes to die,

On Dusicky evening we set the candles aglow

quietly praying for the souls we know,

The very last candle is slowly burning down for the souls forgotten by everyone around us.”

When watching the Estonian film, November, by Rainer Sarnet, I was struck with how similar the Baltic folklore surrounding All Souls Day was to Slavic

Remember as the spirits join us that during Svátek zesnulých we are prohibited from speaking loudly so we don’t spook the ancestors (other prohibitions prevent us from needlework this night so we don’t accidentally cut the dead with our scissors or poke them with our needles, and we aren’t to wear shoes in the cemetery and disturb the dead).

Next in the original invitation I asked, “What are we eating?”

I’m starting with food items that aren’t necessarily to eat:

One of the many Czech folk superstitions was that on the eve of All Souls' Day, souls emerged from Purgatory to rest from their suffering. The relatives of the sinners were therefore supposed to fill an oil lamp with butter so that the souls could rub their burns. In the evening, relatives or friends drank cold milk (or splashed it on themselves) to cool the souls.

Bartholomew Butter

For any of our ancestors who are taking a break from purgatory, I’m providing not only milk, but Bartholomew butter—folk magic butter that I made on Saint Bartholomew’s feast day that is supposed to have especially strong healing powers.

To start the actual meal, we will begin by breaking bread, kosti svatých (Cz. saints’ bones) to be specific. These little pastries are the Czech version of soul cakes. They weren’t offered to the ancestors, but to carolers (trick or treat) or beggars, to incentivize them to pray for the giver’s dead. I’m opening the meal with this bread to thank everyone for lending their intention to the above prayer.

“Don't expect traditional dishes on All Souls' Day - apart from sweet pastries, it is a family gathering where dishes are served according to the tastes of family members and guests. The cold autumn is marked by hot thick soups, hearty main courses and warm drinks.”

So we’re going to start off with a ginger persimmon soup that I based off of muzika, a Czech compote traditionally served at Christmas. For our dinner party I used vegetable broth for anyone who doesn’t eat meat.

For our meat course I’m making řízek (pork schnitzel), with houbová omáčka (mushroom gravy) and potatoes. I’ve written before about my preference for pork for celebratory meals for mythological reasons. It’s mushroom foraging season in Czechia and potatoes have recently been harvested (on Saint Wenceslas Day, potatoes in the cellar). For my vegan and vegetarian friends I’m serving Smažený sýr (breaded fried cheese) with vegan cheese; which is made exactly the same way as the schnitzel.

For sides I’m doing hubník (mushroom pudding) and Kapustový svítek (cabbage roll), leaving the bacon out of both, for vegetarian and vegan friends, but seasoning it with a little powdered lapsang souchong for smokiness, since both recipes call for smoked meat.

Fresh ginger gingerbread Dušičky offerings upon my altar cloth representing an ancestral cemetery.

For dessert koláče, of course, and fresh ginger gingerbread and Choctaw persimmon pudding, and pears in red wine sauce.

In addition to traditional beers and wines and sodas I’m offering homemade sassafras and goldenrod-beautyberry sodas, and beautyberry wine.

And the last question was about entertainment. I think the spirits have gotten more comfortable in our presence now that their bellies are full and we can crank up the music and sing and dance and tell stories AND do some divination.

Though wax (and lead) pouring is associated with St. Andrew’s Eve and cutting apples and floating walnut boats are associated with Christmas, a Czech speaker on a panel I listened to the other day said that these types of divination could be done throughout the dark half it the year leading up to Koleda (Midwinter).

Thank you for coming, hope you had a good time and got to visit with ancestors you haven’t seen for awhile, or maybe never even met before!

I specifically invited:

@thymeforeverything @henbane-and-honeysuckle @chronichlesofnillory @learningmyspots @busridetohelheim @extemporaneousmusings @jayeltontoro @dianasson @hillbillyoracle @zucchinigal @friend-crow @saltmarshsparrow @buddyblanc @blackthornwren @saeva-sava @eldritchboop @birchwood-path @stormcrow513 @luncheon-aspic @lesorciercanadien @satsekhem @vacantwoodsenthusiast @thelovelygods @brujarojaderio @elminx @deadspitfaedm

But am including new friends who have participated in the game so far:

@elegantbearreview @nikolayta @diceandwitchcraft @banjeekuntd @hillbillybubbeleh @slewfootwitch @willowofthehearth

But, of course, anyone who is reading this is invited. Since it’s a fictional dinner party we aren’t going to run out of food or space.

Anyone is invited to play the game. If you’d like me to share your post, please tag me @pagan-stitches and #witchy dinner party

Sources outside my own practice:

Big restock on Troy Books at The Spiral House! Check out this link to see all the Troy Books we carry.

By the ninth century, however, 1 November had become the predominant date for the feast of All Saints’, and over the course of the next few centuries it was gradually supplemented by a second commemoration the following day.

By the later Middle Ages, these days formed a coherent and widely observed season of remembrance, known in medieval England as “Hallowtide”. The two days had distinct but related aims: All Saints’ was intended to celebrate the glorious dead and to ask for their prayers, but the purpose of All Souls’ was to pray for the dead, for those in Purgatory who needed the prayers of the living to help them in their passage to heaven. It was a time not only to remember the dead but to look after them, to give them assistance and comfort. On the nights of Hallowtide, church bells rang out to reassure the souls in Purgatory that the living had not forgotten them. It must have been profoundly comforting to the grieving, too, to feel that they could still do something to help those they had lost.

Eleanor Parker