Wafer

Christmas has always been an important time of year for me. Especially since I left Poland (14 years ago), Christmas dinner and cooking give me a sense of warmth, closeness, and connection to my identity, which strengthens me every time. Over the years, much of my Polishness has faded away. I had to question, abandon, and change a lot to become who I am now. But Christmas dinner is a must for me. For years, I have been organizing and cooking a Wigilia (Christmas eve dinner) for my friends. Whether it’s a small group and a few dishes or a big feast for 20 people, Wigilia must always happen. This year is no exception.

Yesterday, we sat down at the table with the first group, and today we have a second one. A double celebration is quite a challenge, but the value it brings to my life is priceless. I managed to get some Christmas wafers at a Polish store, and so for the first time we added the sharing of Christmas wafers to our annual celebration. I was very surprised that such a small thing caused such a stir that evening and left me some deep thoughts.

At our urging and recommendation, the guests came very hungry. It took some time for everyone to gather and sit down at the table, so hunger was setting in. I thought maybe it would be better to sit down and eat, but I decided that since I already had the wafer, we should try it. I explained what the ritual was about, that everyone breaks the wafer with each other, makes wishes, eats it, etc. A few people didn’t know each other or hadn’t seen each other for a long time, so they received this information with slight anxiety, but also with curiosity. I thought it would be over quickly, but it turned out that the wishes and greetings turned into a moment of extraordinary connection and bonding that surprised everyone. There were many tears, emotions came out, and some wishes turned into extremely deep confessions and reflections. It was so beautiful that I didn’t want it to end. When we sat down to dinner, it was somehow different. Somehow more, stronger, more grateful. After dinner, I heard that it was one of the most beautiful moments of the evening, or at least a very beautiful introduction that set a unique tone. And I was left with the reflection that this is what all these rituals and traditions are about.

That moment when you stand face to face with someone, symbolically exchange a wafer, and are absolutely focused on that person and what they have to say. And then we change. You look at the person and think about what they mean to you and what you want to say to them from the bottom of your heart. And you have a special, dedicated moment for that. Isn’t that beautiful? In addition, anticipation and hunger pumped it up, we were in a rather sensitive state, no one quite knew what to say or how to do it, so everyone tried hard and gave voice to their true emotions. And it turned out to be intense and beautiful.

And I thought to myself that these moments are what I like most in life. And that people need to be given time and space to participate in these moments. And that these don’t have to be big things, big life-changing events. They can be small rituals and moments when we are there for ourselves and for others. These moments are what make the whole dinner worthwhile. And I know that it will be remembered somewhere, somewhere in the body, and for many it will be that important and beautiful memory.

For many Polish people (myself included), sharing the Christmas wafer is not associated with this experience and is often one of the less comfortable moments of Christmas dinner. When you have to listen to and kiss uncles, aunts, and other people who know nothing about you, make generic wishes, and move on… But since I’ve been organizing my own Christmas Eve, which is completely mine, and the people I invite are important to me, the difference is huge. Suddenly, sharing the wafer is something magical that triggers emotions and provides a unique introduction to the rest of the evening. When you are with the people you want to be with, when the week-long cooking marathon, although tiring, is done out of desire rather than necessity, it is an excuse to share with others a part of yourself, your culture, and your identity at its best. When everything makes sense, and even though you know this in theory, you now feel in your whole body why all this is happening, why these rituals exist.

When you can’t be with your loved ones because they are too far away, you can create a space to revive that closeness. Today, I am grateful for the Christmas wafer, which I hadn’t practiced for a long time, but have now rediscovered. It’s fun to do traditions, take what is good for us and create beautiful moments.

I wish you good, beautiful moments too.