In the Old World of my Celtic ancestors, August marked the beginning of the harvest season. Country fairs called people from the fields where they grew crops and from the open lands where they grazed herds. August heralded a time to acknowledge hard work and enjoy its rewards.
Lughnasadh, Lammas, and the Highland Games
The first harvest, Lughnasadh, honored Lugh, a prominent figure in Irish mythology. His name means “the long-armed” and the festival honoring him celebrates those skilled with all manner of tools and physical prowess. In what came to be known as the Highland Games, young men, muscled from months of work in the fields, competed with each other by chopping logs, lifting stones, shooting arrows, and tossing bales of hay, all in an effort to impress young women. When the English ruled the lands, they prohibited such physical displays. They feared the unruly youth and their visible show of strength. What if these young men realized how strong they were? What if the balance of power shifted?
That concern led the English to ban the Highland Games. Undeterred, the games continued in secret.
August was also the time when those who owned land paid their taxes and others paid rent. In some parts of the land, those who owed money anxiously eyed the debtors’ prison, praying to see a white glove. Should the English aristocratic symbol be on view, the peasants would enjoy a grace period. They needn’t fear arrest for lack of funds to pay their debts. At least not in August.
In time, Lughnasadh morphed into the Anglo-Saxon festival of Lammas, a word meaning “the first loaf.”
Lammas Ritual
Several years ago, I led a Lammas ritual at a local gift shop and spiritual boutique. As part of the ritual, I asked the participants to imagine they were approaching a harvest fair somewhere in Scotland, Ireland, or Wales.
You’re a farmer riding in a horse-drawn hay wagon, atop a mound of freshly mown gold. You see tents, games, and all manner of farm animals. You hear laughter that’s flirtatious, laughter that’s loud, laughter that’s bawdy. You hear songs – sweet songs, fighting songs, drinking songs. You smell apples – baked in pies and pressed as cider. You smell all manner of roasted meats, stews, and freshly baked breads, especially breads.
On the altar, I had:
- A basket of fresh vegetables
- A loaf of artisan bread, cut in small slices
- Circles cut from yellow paper, each the diameter of an orange
- A bowl filled with gold coins – chocolate wrapped in foil
My spontaneously chosen assistant walked around the circle offering the basket of bread while I continued the visualization.
Imagine that your harvest has yielded a bumper crop, far exceeding your expectations. The currency from your golden grain has given you power, the likes of which you’ve never enjoyed.
I asked the women to add to the visualization. We live in New England and I knew that over the years most of the women at the ritual had attended one of many local harvest fairs. Some had also attended local Renaissance fairs, where life in old Europe is re-enacted with costumes, food, mead, music, theater, dances, weavers, silversmiths, leather crafts, fortune tellers, colorful tents, and fiery torches to light the paths at night.
Debts to Pay, Debts to Forgive
With our imagined festival in full swing, I said landlords would be there, too. So would thugs seeking to collect gambling debts.
Then I passed out the paper coins and asked everyone to think of their world today.
Imagine receiving a windfall of prosperity and power. On the paper coin, answer two questions:
- What debt will you pay?
- What debt will you forgive?
Some people chose to share their answers. Others chose silence.
When everyone had answered the questions, we went around the room and, one by one, shredded our paper coins. I suspect that having the action witnessed helped affirm the decision.
To celebrate the festival’s theme of prosperity, we each took a chocolate coin from the basket and gave it to someone else.
In the end, many of us acknowledged that while the pressure of owing money is stressful, the heaviest debt, either because we owe it or because it is owed to us, is not financial.
As I write this post, the first of the harvest festivals is two weeks away. Whether you celebrate with a group of other like-minded Pagans, or you acknowledge the harvest on your own, give thought to both your responsibilities and your power. Then break a first loaf and enjoy the bounty of the season.
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