In all cultures, light seems to symbolize joy. In Christian societies, light is always used in the celebration of the birth of Christ. In Skipton, England there has evolved a unique and beautiful custom known as the Lantern Procession ,which takes place just after dark on the night of the Medieval Christmas Market. However, the preparation began weeks ago. These are not ordinary lanterns, as we know them, but each is meticulously hand constructed. Not wanting to miss out on anything, I attended a workshop where lantern making was taught.
Most of the others in the class came as families. Mothers and fathers working together with their children. The teacher, Mary Robson, a theatrical set designer, first explained how to make the framework of willow shoots. Some made pyramid shapes; I went for the more complex star. The willow is bent or broken into the desired lengths and then taped together to form the three dimensional framework. The more sticks used, the more beautiful the finished lantern. This took about two hours. After lunch, we pasted a special paper over the frame with latex glue. It was so messy, we wore garbage bag tunics. A door was then cut in the lantern and covered, after the glue was dry. This was the access to the candle. A candle was installed inside and a hook at the top for hanging it to a carrying pole. Mine finished out about a yard across and 20 inches deep. After drying, the covering resembles parchment. When lighted, the candle accentuates the design of the frame.
At 3:30 we assembled at the bottom of High Street. (It gets dark here by 4:00) In front were Mayor Richard Colley and his lady. He was wearing a scarlet velvet tunic, the huge gold necklace which signifies his office, and a plumed hat, reminiscent of Henry VIII. She was gowned in a flowing medieval dress. Following them were the lantern bearers. There were perhaps 25-30 of the large lanterns and numerous smaller ones that had been made by schoolchildren. Each was carried high on a pole. A large band followed behind.
When everything was in readiness, the band began to play "The First Nowell (sic)" The marchers sang while lifting the lanterns, the tourists sang awhile aiming their cameras, and the vendors sang while collecting money for merchandise. There was an awesome feeling of oneness.
After the song, the processions moved slowly up High Street, past the stalls of dishware, cheese, Christmas cards, and sequined blouses. People pushed forward for a better view by the roasting chestnuts. They came out from the pubs, the tea shops, and the department store. Light always attracts.
At the top of the hill, we moved into the Skipton Church yard. Concentric circles formed around a tiny manger. It was darker here than on the streets, and translucent lanterns glowed with an increased brilliance. Snow still covered the grass beneath our feet, and the ancient stone wall of this medieval church formed a somber backdrop for the lovely tableaux. Many had followed the lanterns from the street below.
There was a magical moment of complete silence before the band began to play "Silent Night". At least a hundred voices were blended together in the crisp cold night to honor the birth of the Holy Baby on a silent, star-lit night two milleniums ago.
Several carols were sung before the crowd dispersed, each one wishing his neighbor a "joyous Christmas season". I heard no one say, "Merry Christmas"; there was no mention of Father Christmas (Santa Clause); no talk of gifts. It was a time when friends and family moved beyond the commercialism of Christmas, to publicly commemorate the birth that gives the real reason for the season. "All is calm, all is quite." Have a joyous Christmas!