Christmas in Weimar

Advent is coming to an end and Christmas Eve will be fast upon us. Here in Germany, Christmas Eve reigns as the most significant part of the season, framed by hushed family and church traditions. Increasingly vibrant festivities break out on December 25th (Christmas Day #1) and December 26th (Christmas Day #2), particularly in terms of food, company, and activities. Best of all, a tangible sense of Christmas stays in the air here for the full twelve days of the Christmas season.

This year, in particular, those twelve days will be brighter because, at least in Weimar, the Christmas Market that ordinarily closes on the 22nd or 23rd will remain largely open until January 5. It’s just a guess, but merchants surely hope to recoup their disastrous losses of 2020, when Christmas markets across Europe were closed. Then, in 2021, many markets opened in good faith on the first weekend of Advent but were shut down a mere three days later due to statistics rising on COVID. The frustration and disappointment of that situation can hardly be described.

I confess to loving the Christmas Markets. Leading groups to visit Christmas Markets in Switzerland, France, and Germany has brought some of the sweetest experiences imaginable. But despite the income such tourism generates, the markets would not survive if local people did not venture out, day after day, to meet, greet, eat, and frolic. In fact, those are the main purposes of the Christmas markets.

Let’s start with eating! It’s hard to walk past the kiosks and not be transformed into a wide-eyed child: before the eyes lie skewers of grapes, strawberries, and melon wedges dipped in white, milk, and dark chocolate; tall puffy marshmallows on crispy wafers, dipped in chocolate, and coated with nuts, cocoanut, or sprinkles; Lebkuchken hearts edged in white icing with folky sayings penned in colored icing; candied almonds, macadamia nuts, and peanuts; and a surprising variety of hot foods. Yes, bratwurst abounds (I don’t care who says otherwise: bratwurst was invented here in Thuringia). But over the years, other cuisine has crept in. In Weimar you will find kiosks with Hungarian specialties (marvelous lángos—a puffy fried bread piled with cheese, meat, or dipped in cinnamon sugar); smoked fish from the North Sea; French crepes stuffed with applesauce, honey, cheese, or meat; and an enormous caldron of “Texas” chili with far too much corn in it, but still a decent kick.

Then there are the Glühwein booths—more numerous than you can believe. Yet every local person tends to find his or her favorite booth, revisiting it each time. These booths offer plenty of hot chocolate too (overwhelmed by mounds of real whipped cream), as well as cups of a warm fruity beverage called Kinderpunsch for the young ones. Beyond drinks, some of the Glühwein stands sell hearty lentil or split pea soup, available with a link of sausage, of course!

Eating, therefore, is a huge part of the equation. But there are other things to do. In most Christmas markets, a local group sings or plays nightly on little stages erected temporarily on the town squares. Rides appear too, some just for toddlers but, in larger cities, adventurous rides and ferris wheels. A modest-sized ice rink often is laid out: in Weimar, you can find one right before the German National Theater—an iconic spot marked by famous statues of Goethe and Schiller. This rink stays pretty busy although, I have to tell you, last week was so cold, the expansive reflecting pool in one park froze solid. Gleefully, many folks abandoned the temporary rink and skated gloriously there for free.

But these activities will taper off before Christmas Eve. And then, wonderfully, the two traditions I most love will unfold! First, the Krippenspiel, a manger-play with an ancient text, will occur in nearly every church, usually around 5 p.m. Then, the next morning, Protestant churches having sufficient musical forces will burst forth with the first of the six cantatas that comprise J. S. Bach’s Christmas Oratorio. The initial cantata, known as Jauchzet, frohlocket! (Shout, Make Joyful!) may be the most glorious composition ever written! I’ve described it on these pages at various points and cannot recommend it highly enough. Even the opening measures, with thunderous timpani undergirding the bold exclamations of the chorus, can pierce the veil of sorrow and ignite the darkness into brilliant light.

Still, with all these riches at my fingertips, I miss home. I miss gazing out at the Christmas decorations of our neighbors. These vary in style from subtle wreaths to armies of blow-up Grinch and Disney figures, but remain largely the same year after year. For that continuity, I am grateful.

I also miss the reflections of the Moravian star on our front porch dancing in our living-room window. And oh I miss my oven (our little apartment here in Weimar does not have one) where ordinarily I would be baking turkey, ham, and sweet-potato casserole, not to mention an emergency batch of Swedish Heirloom cookies once I discover that the cookie tins are mysteriously emptier than I thought.

Most of all, I will miss sitting on Christmas Eve in my rocking chair in front of the tree after returning from late Mass. This happens only after the little ones are stuffed into bed (not too hard at that hour) and after I give up trying to find the missing gifts tucked away weeks ago in some random cabinet.

But then silence falls and the most precious interval of my whole year arrives. In the wee hours, I sit in silence as long as I wish, rocking slowly, sipping tea, nibbling a fat Swedish Heirloom, and wishing ardently that time would stop, allowing me to remain forever in this moment..

No matter where you are, or what traditions touch your heart, Hank and I wish you a joyous, peaceful Christmas season. May you revel in your favorite moments, and rest in their strength. Dear readers, my gratitude for what you bring to us throughout the year cannot be described in words. That gratitude is flowing from my heart, though, in these waning hours of Advent as, candle-by-candle, the light of Christmas begins to spread.