The festive season seems to have come around even faster than usual this year, and now suddenly we’re into December and the frantic gallop towards the big day. As my regular readers will know, I always try to bring a little of the Middle Ages into our Christmases, but this year I thought I’d consider the four weeks leading up to the 25^th: the season of Advent. Was there anything about the medieval pre-Christmas period that might inspire me, connect me with the period and enrich my enjoyment of the celebrations? Well, although Advent of yore bore no resemblance whatsoever to our modern experience, the surprising answer was a resounding: Yes.

These days Christmas seems to start even before Halloween. Sparkling cards, decorations and assorted festive goods creep into the shops as early as September, while the first of the now cinematic TV ads hits our screens just as we’re disposing of our carved pumpkins and packing away our pointy hats.

I love Christmas as much as anyone, believe me, but when you take a moment to stand back and look at our approach to the midwinter revels today, it’s hard to disagree with money saving expert Martin Lewis’s assertion that ‘Christmas has become a retail festival, and it shouldn’t be’. However you look at it, and whatever your religious views, Advent is now a season of commercial hype and pressure to part with all your cash – and more – whilst riding the wave of parties and events, and indulging in chocolate calendars, festive foods and too much booze. Little wonder, then, that by the big day itself we’re all Christmassed out and ready to drop. But back in the Middle Ages, these four special weeks couldn’t have been more different.

Medieval Advent couldn’t have been more different from how it is today…

Beginning on Advent Sunday, the fourth Sunday before Christmas, medieval folk were expected to spend the run-up to Christmas in solemn contemplation, prayer and penance whilst exercising restraint in most aspects of their daily lives. Although not as strict as Lent, the 40-day period of fasting before Easter, the season of Advent included three Ember days per week – Wednesday, Friday and Sunday – when you were expected to eat less than normal. Meat was prohibited and you only had one simple meal a day consisting of fish or vegetables. Not only that, all bedroom antics were banned on fasting days as sexual activity was considered inappropriate in such holy times. And by extension, this also meant that no weddings were permitted during Advent.

In the Middle Ages, the seasonal excesses had to wait until Christmas actually began. Dont’ know what’s happened to that bloke on the end – probably way too much mead. Told you they knew how to celebrate!

The word Advent, or Adventus in Latin, means ‘the coming’ or ‘arrival’ and this had a dual meaning in the Middle Ages. In one respect, the acts of reflection and prayer were preparation for the historical coming of Christ. But the Catholic church also introduced the idea of anticipating the second coming, the Day of Judgement, when Christ would return to judge the sins and virtues of the whole world. All the fasting and contrition, then, was a way of preparing the immortal soul for the end of days, and hopefully securing a ticket to heaven. Who knows, maybe that’s where the ‘naughty or nice’ list came from…

Sorting the naughty from the nice: the Day of Judgement was a big consideration during the pre-Christmas season.

Preparing for the winter and the Christmas season, but the call to worship was never far away in Advent.

Of course, this all seems rather harsh to our modern sensibilities, but there are a couple of points to bear in mind. For one thing, fasting at this time of year meant the meat supplies would go further. But also, after a month of restraint, solemnity and contemplation, everyone was more than ready for the novelty of a huge feast, and a full twelve days of parties and merriment. During the Middle Ages then, the true Christmas period would have been fully appreciated and embraced.

But it wasn’t all prayers and penance, for amid the prescribed sobriety of Advent there were a couple of occasions to look forward to. On 6^th December, St Nicholas Day (the patron saint of children) a curious custom called the Ceremony of the Boy Bishop was held. A boy was chosen from the choristers of a large church or cathedral and dressed in full episcopal garb – mitre, crozier and all. With the help of other boys chosen to act as clergy and servants, the young lad then served as bishop for a term lasting until 28^th December, Holy Innocents’ Day.

During his term in office, the boy bishop performed most of the duties of a priest.

In what must have been quite a spectacle, the young bishop took all the services apart from the Mass (that was a step too far), gave blessings to the congregation and, to all intents and purposes, was treated as a real bishop. He even sat in the adult seats, while the grown ups had to move elsewhere. Should the lad be unfortunate enough to die in service, he would be buried with full honours, dressed in all his regalia.

Quite how this strange ritual came to be is unclear, but the idea might play into the ancient pagan traditions of role reversal that hung on into the christianised Middle Ages. During the Roman festival of Saturnalia, for example, it was customary for all ranks to swap roles, with masters inviting their slaves to dine with them, and even serving them at table. But however it came about, the ceremony was a popular interlude in Advent, and there are records of services being performed by a boy bishop for King Edward I in 1299, and later for his grandson, King Edward III.

Despite being abolished by Henry VIII and Elizabeth I, the custom of the Boy Bishop is still taking place today, as this image from Salisbury Cathedral shows. (Source)

St Nicholas’s Day could also be an occasion for gift giving, particularly to children, although this varied from place to place. Depending on where or who you were, you may get a present on Christmas Day, or more traditionally on New Year’s Day. Nonetheless, gift giving wasn’t a major part of Christmas, as the main attraction was gathering for the big feast itself, followed by all the fun, games and entertainments. It’s all a far cry from the way we do things today.

After four weeks of restraint and reflection, Christmas arrives and it’s time to celebrate!

So, having studied Advent medieval-style, what can I take from how they prepared for Christmas back then? It’s impossible to avoid the commercial frenzy that pervades the modern season, but in recent years I have to admit I’ve begun to find it all a bit overwhelming. When something becomes massively over-hyped I tend to go off it, but I still love the core festival; the essence of Christmas. So now, as a family, we’ve decided we want to celebrate the midwinter revels in our own, simple but special way.

We’ll be out enjoying the scenery this Advent.

This December, then, we’ll still buy presents, put up decorations and prepare some tasty treats, but other than that, we’re going to slow down. Advent this year will mean less stress, less pre-Christmas indulgence and more peace. I’ll still enjoy a drink and the odd mince pie, but everything in moderation. I’ll sit by the fire and read ghost stories. I’ll walk in nature, observe the coldest season and the fragile light, the wintering wildlife and the setting sun in the afternoon sky. I’ll reflect on the past year and look forward to the twelve months ahead. Then, when Christmas does arrive, we’ll feast, play games and be merry, just as we always do, and as the medieval folk did – in style!

Woodland winter walks are very much on the cards…

…and watching the stunning winter sunsets.

And from this quieter Templeton perspective, I’d like to offer you one of my favourite recordings of a rather beautiful and haunting Advent hymn that has its roots firmly in the Middle Ages. In keeping with the medieval tradition, it’s gentle and delicate, and it reflects the seasonal longing for the coming of the Messiah. So why not switch off the Christmas ads, take a glass of cheer, put your feet up and join me in the peaceful and meditative sound of Advent long ago. With this, I wish all my readers a joyous Christmas to come, and a very Happy New Year.