Winter Star of Suceava

Wars have come and gone in the region of Bukovina. Men shed their blood for centuries to preserve their heritage and treasured traditions. Few remain today who know the legend of the Winter Star of Suceava.

When cold Carpathian winds rushed across the Suceava River, citizens in this ancient city, named for the river, steel themselves for long, dark, cold days ahead. Always they are reassured that without fail spring always comes, bright, colorful and warm.

In winter, night falls quickly in Brodina, a tiny village along the river. Women scurry about preparing meals and tending children, while men strive to keep their families warm against the biting mountain cold.

Children of Brodina wait with great anticipation for Christmas, with all its brightest colors and special treats to come. Swags and garlands of long needle pines, dotted with coiled pine cones and holly berries are hung indoors and out. Such festivities brighten an otherwise dark winter season.

Each family has its special traditions. Yet, they are united by the same Christmas rituals and rites handed down by their ancestors.

The flickering glow of candlelight in a window is a reminder of welcome to ancestral spirits who have gone on to glorious eternity.

As snow falls gently on Brodina, mountain winds roam down into the peaceful town, swirling about like a mystical genie. Now and then, curling winds rattle doors and windows like hallowed ghosts wishing to enter and perhaps, be warmed by the firelight within.

Anastasie Crimca was born in 1550. He was a serious, thoughtful young man who always felt a deep need to search for answers. He believed aligning himself closely to tradition was the path to a higher relationship with the Almighty.

To sate his need for deep thought, he joined a community of Moldavian monks. Quickly, his solitary, meditative nature elevated him among the other monks.

In the solitude of the monastery's scriptorium, Anastasie worked dutifully for twenty years producing codex of text with such impeccable genius, it was naturally attributed to the "holiness" he possessed in his soul.

Tall and lanky, the typical stature of men of Sucidava, Anastasie devoted his life to his writings. He rose to become Metropolitan of Moldavia in 1608. One year later, he founded the Dragomirna Monastery, a sprawling fortress-like enclave with a central bell tower over the church that rises high above the monastery's stone walls.

In those days, monasteries across the entire European continent were safe havens from enemies within and those from alien lands.

For many centuries Ottomans rampaged in massive armies throughout Moldavia and regions of Bukovina. Great leaders, most courageous, rose from humble beginnings in Moldavia and Wallachia and forced back Ottoman invaders. Many of these heroes are venerated to this very day.

Brodina lies at the border of Romania. In its history, this tiny village keeps its ways as it always has. Knowing well their daily duties and following a symbionic obligation to tradition, life here is ordered and tranquil.

In its early days, Brodina had much to fear. Not even the mountains surrounding Brodina were protection from the evil put upon these people, who so highly prize peace and tranquility.

As if tradition was a shield villagers wore for protection when threatened, this tightly knit community stood as tall as the stately, centuries old trees that dot the landscape. Their defensive strategies, simple and uncomplicated, might awe the most decorated defenders.

In the winter of 1655, the harvest rested safely in store houses near cottage homes of villagers. At harvest time, men labored to gather in coal, lumber from fallen trees and reeds, to secure buildings and roofs against the elements.

Women tended to their gardens, pickling, canning fruits and vegetables and making sure an ample supply of winter grains were threshed to provide flour for bread. They made their own cheeses and tended small flocks of chickens, goats and geese. What they couldn't grow, their men hunted in forests surrounding the village.

January 1656 was perhaps the cruelest, most frigid winter the people in Brodina ever endured. Tall pines were laden with thick blankets of snow piled so high, not even harsh winds could shake the snow loose from pine boughs. When sky could be seen at all in daylight, it was a relief to see the deep blue and white clouds overhead.

When snows came, nothing in this rural region stirred. Not a single human footprint marred the knee-deep snow drifts. Inside their cottages, families kept busy. Each day, water needed to be drawn from frozen ice and thawed near fireside hearths. When firewood or coal ran low, men ventured only as far as deep snow allowed...usually the cottage door.

Children spent their time reading or playing games, like working puzzles, given to them as Christmas gifts.

On the night of January 7, 1656, the traditional celebration of Christmas began with lighting of candles on every  table. A thick, hot, sour, soup dotted with tiny dumplings, bits of meat and dried mushrooms was placed in a large tureen in the center of the table.

The family Tomas prayed upon their feast for blessings for the good harvest and comfort of home and hearth.

Elisabet Tomas, the family matriarch, ladled steaming soup into bowls for each of her four children, Geza, Anca, Ioana and Stefan. With a nod from her husband, Valeriou, the children hungrily devoured their soup.

Elisabet blessed herself before passing the basket of bread around the table. She rose again and brought a platter of roasted meat and rolls of meat-stuffed cabbage to the table next. Plates of cheeses and Elisabet's own wine made from Tokay grapes was the next course.

The children were so full, they felt they'd fairly burst. Still, they had room for their favorite part of the Christmas meal: ginger cookies and delectable pastries.

The family would not attend Christmas Mass this night. Travel would be impossible with snow piled so high. There would be the usual stalwart villagers who visited from one neighboring door to the next and leave behind a hand made gift for the family or a freshly baked sweet.

This night, snow fell lightly on top of the snows that fell for three days and nights before. It was no longer possible to see the forest path that lead out of the village, so dense was the snow.

Valeriou, as head of his family, led his wife and children to the home of their neighbor Istvan Gabor, as was the Christmas night custom.

He held tight to Elisabet's hand while their children pranced on gleefully ahead, ignoring the depths of the snow beneath their feet.

Valeriou was a man who possessed an unusual sense of hearing. Some in the village were certain he could hear birds singing twenty miles away. Each cottage kept lanterns lit on this night to light the paths to their homes for celebration.

He stopped for a moment.

"Valeriou, what is it? Why you do pause?" Elisabet asked.

"Horses. In such deep snow?" he muttered.

"Pshaw! How could there be?" Elisabet asked.

"Be silent, woman. I hear them. I am certain."

Elisabet wondered if her spouse's hearing was becoming less accurate. The wide clearing that led to the path into the village was knee-deep in snow. Yet, she knew Valeriou's strange ability to "hear" the least audible sounds from such far distances was always correct.

"Elisabet, go to Istvan's home. Tell them horses are coming. We must pass the word among the people," Valeriou said.

"But, Valeriou, it is Christmas and the snows are deep. Are you certain you hear horses?" she asked.

"Do not question. There can be only one reason men would be upon their mounts at such a time," Valeriou said.

Elisabet did as Valeriou asked. Quickly word spread among the other villagers outside in the night visiting for Christmas celebration. One by one, their lanterns went dark.

The Tomas family hurried back to their own cottage and doused the lantern light. Iona and Anca peered out the window. They saw the lights in cottages go dark.

"Papa? Who is it who would be out in such weather?" Geza asked.

"Son, when an enemy strikes, it is always at times when villagers are too sure of their safety," Valeriou said.

"But, Papa...in such darkness, how will we see our enemy?" Stefan asked.

"Will we be attacked? On Christmas?" Geza asked.

Valeriou didn't answer. Deep within the blood in his veins, he sensed marauders, perhaps lost, wandered through the foothills of the mountains, looking for food and shelter. They may be bereft of provisions and water. He hoped they would be sated by whatever the villagers could offer them.

But, Valeriou knew better. In his own childhood, he remembered hiding away with villagers at the monastery when an Ottoman attack was upon the entire region.

"We have been too sure of our safety. Even on this night of nights, we cannot do that," he said.

"Are you so certain it is an enemy about to spring upon our village?" Elisabet asked.

"I am certain that who ever is out there on a such a night is cold, hungry and unwilling to trade only for food," Valeriou said.

Wind gusts swirled snow, while villagers waited for the horsemen to appear. The only lights inside cottages were those in fireplaces. Women pulled their shawls about them tighter, while children waited wide-eyed for the horsemen.

Defense strategies ran through the minds of village men. They defended their community before and if needs must, they would again.

As clocks struck the eighth hour, the sound of horses grew louder.

"There are three horsemen," Valeriou said.

"You are certain? Only three?" Elisabet asked.

Geza made his way to the cottage window. He peered from behind the cloth curtains, straining his eyes to see the enemy.

"Papa, it is not possible to see the enemy. The sky is heavy, even as snow falls," Geza said.

Anca and Ioana sat on the braided rug beside their mother. She read the Christmas Nativity story from the Bible. Her hands shook noticeably as she turned each page.

The two girls knew their mother's fear as if it was their own.

"Geza, keep watch at the window. I will load powder into the musket," Valeriou said.

"Papa, I see them! I see them! There are three strange looking men on large horses, much larger than our team of horses," Geza said.

"How do you see them so clearly now, when before you could not?" Valeriou asked.

"They come with a bright star over their heads!" Geza said.

Valeriou thought his son was imagining such a thing.

Geza stepped aside so his father might see the star in the sky over the clearing.

"It is so. I have never seen such a star amid a sky laden with snow," Valeriou said.

Elisabet looked up from her reading. Anca and Ioana looked at their Papa.

It was a Geza had seen. There were three very tall men on horses as large as bull elephants. As the three men entered the village, the star over their heads followed them. Villagers peering out of their darkened cottages were afraid.

Had these men come to kill them? It had been a long time since villagers worried about foreign marauders.

Nervously, Valeriou kept his eyes on the three men from behind the window curtain. They dismounted their horses and tethered them to a wooden pole.

Suddenly, there was a heavy knock on the Tomas cottage door.

Valeriou motioned to the women to hide themselves away.

"Papa? What should we do? Should we prepare the muskets?" Geza asked.

"Papa, I'm afraid," Stefan whispered.

"First, we will see what these strangers want. They are do not appear to be armed with weapons. That's a good sign."

Valeriou knew it rested with him to open the door to what might be three murderers.

"Geza, be keen about their presence. It will be you who must warn the others in the village, if these men mean us harm," Valeriou said.

"Yes, Papa. I understand," Geza said.

Another knock on the door. This time a little louder.

"Is anyone about?" the man's voice said.

Valeriou opened the door very slowly and cautiously.

"I am Valeriou Tomas. What is your business on this hallowed night?" he asked.

"We have traveled a long, long way. I am Gaspar. My companions are Melchior and Baltazar. We are cold and hungry. Might we come inside, ere we freeze to our deaths?" Gaspar said.

Valeriou bid them enter. They stood at the door shaking mounds of snow and ice from their great coats and boots. These, they removed.

"Geza, candles please. Elisabet, Anca, Ioana set the table with hot food before these men," Valeriou commanded.

He eyed the three men cautiously.

"Where are your arms in such dangerous woods?" Valeriou asked.

"We have no need of arms. We bring only good tidings and lowly gifts such as we possess," Gaspar said.

Melchior and Baltazar sat silently as Elisabet placed steaming bowls of soup in front of them.

"From whence have you come?" Valeriou said.

"We are men of the East. Ours is an ancient land filled with riches and...filled with many evils," Gaspar said.

"You are men of God then?" Valeriou asked.

"We are messengers. Not more," Melchior said.

"What message have you for the people of our little village?" Valeriou asked.

The three men glanced at each other.

"Your good wife has warmed our bellies and our hearts," Baltazar said.

Elisabet looked at the three strange men. Suddenly, she remembered from the Bible names like theirs in the days of  the birth of Christ.

"Is it possible? Can it be, Papa? These are the three wise men of old?" Elisabet asked.

"We are not those of whom you speak. They are long gone. We are named for them because in our land, we honor and celebrate their wisdom," Gaspar said.

"How come you to such holy names?" Valeriou asked.

"As your village has traditions, so ours does. It is our tradition to keep alive the peace of the three men of wisdom, so it may never be forgotten that peace, not war, is the true gift from the wisest among us" Melchior said.

"Papa, do you hear? Villagers are massing outside," Geza said.

It was true. Villagers emerged from their cottages curious to see the three men. Some of the men carried large torches and their muskets. Their voices grew louder as they neared the door of the Tomas cottage.

"Valeriou, you must warn the villagers these men come in peace. They believe we are all in danger. Say to them it is not so," Elisabet said.

"We must move on very soon. We do not want to inflame your villagers with the belief we are here to harm them," Gaspar said.

"I will speak to my fellow village men. I will assure them you come in peace," Valeriou said.

The elderman, Sergui, pounded on Valeriou's door. With the entire village at his back, he stood tall and stiffened, knowing the Tomas family could be dead, murdered, perhaps, by the three marauders.

Valeriou slowly opened the door. He was shocked by the number of the throng standing behind Sergui.

"Valeriou Tomas, are you and your family safe?" Sergui asked.

"We are. The three men within mean our village no harm. They come bringing tidings of peace as their ancestors tradition taught them," Valeriou said.

Gaspar, Melchior and Baltazar joined their host at the opened door.

"See for yourselves," Valeriou said.

He stepped aside to allow the villagers to see the faces of the three men.

Gaspar was first to speak.

"I am Gaspar. I come with my countrymen, Melchior and Baltazar. We lost our way. See the star overhead? It guided us to safety within your village," he said.

All in the crowd looked up at the star shining overhead, even as snow fell. As one, the village crowd, sighed loudly: "Ahhhhh!" at the sight of this most unusual star.

"These are the wise men of the East of which the Bible speaks!" Sergiu said.

"Nay. We are merely their ancestors come to honor and celebrate the peace and gifts they brought to the Christ Child so very long ago," Baltazar said.

"We bring your village three gifts we carry with us," Melchior said.

Gaspar stepped past the door of Valeriou's cottage toward his horse. The crowd stared in awe as he drew a large cloth bag from his saddle. Melchior and Baltazar joined him at his side and did the same. The crowd gathered around the three men.

"I bring you the gift of light," Gaspar said.

The crowd stood breathless as Gaspar withdrew a large, long white taper from his bag. He presented it to Sergiu.

"This taper will provide light for the long winter for the entire village. It is made from a special wax found in caves. It burns far longer than all others," Gaspar said.

"I bring you the gift of peace," Melchior said.

He drew from his bag a small metal urn filled with oil that emitted a strangely calming scent.

"The oil within this urn brings peace when the oil is placed in your lamps. It runs freely in the caves from which the wax is drawn. This scented oil calms the senses and brings great peace," Melchior said.

"I bring you the gift of wisdom which our ancestors knew and honored as their most cherished possession," Baltazar said.

From his bag, he withdraw a large, round crystal of such size as the head of a small child. The light from the star overhead made the crystal prisms dance in different colors.

"This crystal was drawn from the same caves as the special wax and oil. Study each of the colors slowly and carefully. Within each prism is an inspiration that brings wisdom."

The crowd of villagers were overcome with joy. Simple gifts from three men who traveled far.

A small child began to sing the traditional Christmas song known as the "Carol of the Star."

His pure, sweet little voice sang out, "The star has appeared on high. Like a big secret in the sky. The star is bright. May all your wishes turn out right."

In Brodina, villagers love to sing. They joined in the little boy's song as Sergiu lit the big village candle again. As if by magic, the snow stopped and a sapphire sky appeared overhead with one star shining over the village.

"It is time for us to take our leave," Baltazar said, to his two companions.

"Our duty is done," Gaspar added.

"Our blessings upon all in your village," Melchior said.

The three men mounted their horses and left by way of the large clearing with the sound of the villagers singing, "O ce veste minunata" ..."Oh Wondrous Tidings" and Trei Crai de la rasarit"..."Three Wise Men Coming from the East," ringing in their ears.

Craciun Fericit...Merry Christmas!