Shrove Tuesday is a term associated in English-speaking countries, especially the United Kingdom, Canada, Ireland, Australia,[1] New Zealand, and parts of the United States[2] for the day preceding Ash Wednesday, the first day of the season of fasting and prayer called Lent.
The word shrove is the past tense of the English verb shrive, which means to obtain absolution for one's sins by way of confession and doing penance. During the week before Lent, sometimes called Shrovetide in English, Christians were expected to go to confession in preparation for the penitential season of turning to God. Shrove Tuesday was the last day before the beginning of Lent on Ash Wednesday, and noted in histories dating back to 1000 AD. The popular celebratory aspect of the day had developed long before the Protestant Reformation, and was associated with releasing high spirits before the somber season of Lent. It is analogous to the continuing Carnival tradition associated with Mardi Gras (and its various names in different countries) that continued separately in European Catholic countries.
In the United States, the term Shrove Tuesday is less widely known outside of people who observe the liturgical traditions of the Episcopal, Lutheran, Methodist, and Roman Catholic Churches.[3][4] Because of the increase in many immigrant populations and traditions since the 19th century, and the rise of highly publicized festivals, Mardi Gras has become more familiar as the designation for that day.
In the United Kingdom and many other countries, the day is often known as Pancake Day. Making and eating such foods was considered a last feast with ingredients such as sugar, fat and eggs, whose consumption was traditionally restricted during the ritual fasting associated with Lent.
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All Catholic and some Protestant countries traditionally call the day before Ash Wednesday Fat Tuesday. The name predated the Reformation and referred to the common Christian tradition of eating special rich foods before the fasting season of Lent. Examples include Portuguese, Terça-feira Gorda; French, Mardi Gras; Italian, Martedì Grasso; Swedish, Fettisdagen; Danish Fastelavn; Norwegian, Fastelavens; Estonian, Vastlapäev. Other countries called it the Tuesday of Carnival, referring to the popular celebration of Carnival that became associated with the feasting: Spanish, Martes de Carnaval; Portuguese, Terça-feira de Carnaval; and German, Faschingsdienstag).
For German American populations, such as Pennsylvania Dutch Country, it is known as Fastnacht Day (also spelled Fasnacht, Fausnacht, Fauschnaut, or Fosnacht). The Fastnacht is made from fried potato dough and served with dark corn syrup. In John Updike's novel Rabbit, Run, the main character remembers a Fosnacht Day tradition in which the last person to rise from the table would be teased by the other family members and called a Fosnacht.
In Hawaii, this day is also known as Malasada Day, which dates back to the days of the sugar plantations of the 1800s. The resident Catholic Portuguese workers used up butter and sugar prior to Lent by making large batches of malasada, a fried dough.
In Iceland the day is known as Sprengidagur (Bursting Day) and is marked by eating salt meat and peas.
In Lithuania the day is called Užgavėnės. People eat pancakes (blynai) and Lithuanian-style doughnuts called spurgos.
In heavily Polish Catholic areas of the United States, such as Chicago and the Detroit suburb of Hamtramck, Michigan, Pączki Day is celebrated with pączki-eating contests, music and other Polish food. However, in Poland this celebration falls on the Thursday which precedes Ash Wednesday and is called Fat Thursday. On that day Poles eat a lot of pączki, which are a Polish version of doughnuts.
In Sweden, Estonia and Finland the day is marked by eating a traditional pastry, called semla or fastlagsbulle in Swedish, vastlakukkel in Estonian and laskiaispulla in Finnish. It is a sweet bun filled with almond paste and whipped cream. Originally, the pastry was only eaten on this day. It was sometimes served in a bowl of hot milk. Eventually the tradition evolved to eating the bun on each Tuesday of Lent leading up to Easter. After the Reformation, the Protestant Swedes no longer observed a "strict" Lent with fasting ritual.
Today, semlas are available in shops and bakeries every day from shortly after Christmas until Easter. The semla is often eaten as a regular pastry, without the hot milk. The semla is also traditional in Finland, where the pastry is often filled with jam instead of almond paste. However, it is notable[citation needed] that the original semla only denoted the bread-part of the pastry, which has made the word evolve separately in the Swedish language spoken in Sweden and Finland. Thus, today in Sweden semla means the Shrove Tuesday pastry, while in Finland's Swedish-speaking areas the word refers to a common bread roll (sämpylä in Finnish) in general. The word for the Shrove Tuesday pastry is in Finland either in Finnish laskiaispulla or in Swedish fastlagsbulle. The story behind the name of the Shrove Tuesday pastry is perhaps the most common example used to describe of linguistic evolution between the Swedish language spoken in the two countries. In Finland Shrove Tuesday is called "laskiaistiistai" and the origin of the word laskiainen is derived probably from Latin "carne lasciare" ("leaving the meat out", as the fast began on ash Wednesday). It also is celebrated in a carnival-like manner, as most of the schools and universities end the day's teaching at midday and the students and children will go out and find a hill or anyplace they can slide down something where they gather to play in the snow. In cities with universities the university students usually have a big party in the evening.
In the United Kingdom and Ireland, Shrove Tuesday is often known colloquially as Pancake Day or Pancake Tuesday. In the UK and for those who follow the Anglican tradition elsewhere it is known as Pancake Day or Pancake Tuesday; in Ireland and other countries following the Catholic tradition it is known as Pancake Tuesday or Pancake Day[citation needed].
A traditional pancake is slightly thicker than a French crêpe. It is served immediately after preparation. Long ago it was traditionally served with a meat-based stew (also a luxury then).
In modern times a sprinkling of granulated sugar, or icing sugar (known as powdered or confectioner's sugar in the US) and lemon juice has become more common. Many other sweet and savoury toppings are used (for example, in Canada and the U.S. pancakes are often served with maple syrup or preserves). In some countries, charity and commercial businesses organize events on Pancake Day to raise funds for charitable purposes.
Among Anglicans, Lutherans, some other Protestant denominations, including ethnic British communities in Canada, as well as Catholics, this day is also known as Pancake Tuesday, as it is customary to eat pancakes.[5][6][7]
Pancakes and doughnuts are associated with the day preceding Lent because they were a way to use up rich foodstuffs such as eggs, milk, and sugar, before the fasting season of the 40 days of Lent. The liturgical fasting emphasized eating plainer food and refraining from food that would give pleasure: In many cultures, this means no meat, dairy, or eggs.
In England, as part of community celebration, many towns held traditional Shrove Tuesday football ('Mob football') games, dating as far back as the 12th century. The practice mostly died out in the 19th century, after the passing of the Highway Act 1835, which banned playing football on public highways. A number of towns have maintained the tradition, including Alnwick in Northumberland, Ashbourne in Derbyshire (called the Royal Shrovetide Football Match), Atherstone (called the Ball Game) in Warwickshire, Sedgefield (called the Ball Game) in County Durham, and St Columb Major (called Hurling the Silver Ball) in Cornwall.
Shrove Tuesday was once known as a 'half-holiday' in England. It started at 11:00am with the signalling of a church bell.[8] On Pancake Day, pancake races are held in villages and towns across the United Kingdom. The tradition is said to have originated when a housewife from Olney was so busy making pancakes that she forgot the time until she heard the church bells ringing for the service. She raced out of the house to church while still carrying her frying pan and pancake. It remains a relatively common festive tradition in the UK, particularly in England even today, is the pancake race whereby participants race through the streets whilst tossing pancakes into the air, catching them in the pan whilst running.
In 1634 William Fennor wrote in "Palinodia", "And tosse their Pancakes up for feare they burne."
The tradition of pancake racing had started long before that. The most famous pancake race,[9] at Olney in Buckinghamshire, has been held since 1445. The contestants, traditionally women, carry a frying pan and race to the finishing line while tossing the pancakes as they go. The winner is the first to cross the line having tossed the pancake a certain number of times.
Since 1950 the people of Liberal, Kansas, and Olney have held the "International Pancake Day" race between the two towns. The two towns' competitors race along an agreed-upon measured course. The times of the two towns' competitors are compared, to determine a winner overall. After the 2000 race, Liberal was leading with 26 wins to Olney's 24.[10] A similar race is held in North Somercotes of Lincolnshire in eastern England.
Scarborough, North Yorkshire celebrates by closing off the foreshore road (beach) to all traffic, closing schools early, and inviting all residents to skip in the road. Traditionally, long ropes were used from the fishing ships in the nearby harbour. The town crier rings in the day with the pancake bell, situated on the corner of Westborough (Main Street) and Huntress Row.
Another traditional food for this season is a sweet fried dumpling called cenci, usually served in the shape of a loose knot (a 5 cm wide, 20 cm long strip of dough one extremity of which is passed through a slit in the middle). In New Orleans and traditional French-speaking communities, such as Prairie du Rocher, Illinois, another traditional food is king cake. Traditionally the man who ate a bean baked in the cake was crowned the community king for Mardi Gras.
A Festy cock is a Scottish dish made of a ball of finely ground meal, wetted and patted, rolled into a pancake shape, then roasted in the hot ashes from a mill kiln. This was a dish to be eaten at Shrovetide.[11]
In Estonia and Finland, this day, called Vastlapäev and Laskiainen, respectively, is associated with hopes for the coming year. On this day, families go sledding and eat split pea and ham soup. A toy is made from the ham bone by tying the bone to a string and spinning it around to make a whistling noise.
Finns also share the Swedish tradition of eating marzipan and cream-filled pastry, although they often replace marzipan with strawberry jam. The Finnish name is laskiaispulla. It is most often accompanied with a hot, red or black currant drink. Adults sometimes drink glögi, - a heated mulled wine.
In Germany, Austria and Slovenia, people traditionally eat rich pastries such as Berliner, krapfen or krof.
The date of Shrove Tuesday is dependent on that of Easter, a moveable feast based on the cycles of the moon. The date can vary from as early as 3 February to as late as 9 March.
Shrove Tuesday will occur on the following dates in coming years:[12]
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| ←The Cook's Wedding | Shrove Tuesday by , translated by Marian Fell |
In Passion Week→ |
"HERE, Pavel, Pavel!" Pelagia Ivanovna cried, rousing her husband
from a nap. "Do go and help Stepa ! He is sitting there crying
again over his lessons. It must be something he can't
understand."
Pavel Vasilitch got up, made the sign of the cross over his yawning mouth, and said meekly:
"Very well, dear."
The cat sleeping beside him also jumped up, stretched its tail in the air, arched its back, and half-closed its eyes. The mice could be heard scuttling behind the hangings. Having put on his slippers and dressing-gown, Pavel Vasilitch passed into the dining-room all ruffled and heavy with sleep. A second cat that had been sniffing at a plate of cold fish on the window-sill jumped to the floor as he entered, and hid in the cupboard.
"Who told you to go smelling that ? " Pavel Vasilitch cried with vexation, covering the fish with a newspaper. "You're more of a pig than a cat !"
A door led from the dining-room into the nursery. There, at a table disfigured with deep gouges and stains, sat Stepa, a schoolboy of ten with tearful eyes and a petulant face. He was hugging his knees to his chin and swaying backward and forward like a Chinese idol with his eyes fixed angrily on the schoolbook before him.
"So you're learning your lessons, eh." asked Pavel Vasilitch, yawning and taking his seat at the table beside him. "That's the way, sonny. You've had your play and your nap, and you've eaten your pancakes, and to-morrow will be Lent, a time of repentance; so now you're at work. The happiest day must have an end. What do those tears mean? Are your lessons getting the better of you? It's hard to do lessons after eating pancakes ! That's what ails you, little sonny ! "
"Why do you laugh at the child?" calls Pelagia Ivanovna from the next room. "Show him how to do his lessons, instead of making fun of him ! Oh, what a trial he is ! He'll be sure to get a bad mark tomorrow!"
"What is it you don't understand?" asked Pavel Vasilitch of Stepa.
"This here, how to divide these fractions," the boy answered crossly. "The division of fractions by fractions."
"H'm, you little pickle, that's easy, there's nothing about it to understand. You must do the sum right, that's all. To divide one fraction by another you multiply the numerator of the first by the denominator of the second in order to get the numerator of the quotient. Very well. Now the denominator of the first—"
"I know that already!" Stepa interrupted him, flicking a nutshell off the table. "Show me an example."
"An example? Very well, let me have a pencil. Now, then, listen to me. Supposing that we want to divide seven-eighths by two-fifths. Very well, then the proposition is this: we want to divide these two fractions by one another— Is the samovar boiling?"
"I don't know."
"Because it's eight o'clock and time for tea. Very well, now listen to me. Supposing that we divide seven-eighths not by two-fifths, but by two, that is by the numerator only. What is the answer?"
"Seven-sixteenths."
"Splendid ! Good boy ! Now, then, sonny, the trick is this: as we have divided—let me see—as we have divided it by two, of course—wait a minute, I'm getting muddled myself. I remember when I was a boy at school we had a Polish arithmetic master named Sigismund Urbanitch, who used to get muddled over every lesson. He would suddenly lose his wits while he was in the midst of demonstrating a proposition, blush to the roots of his hair, and rush about the classroom as if the devil were after him. Then he would blow his nose four or five times and burst into tears. But we were generous to him, we used to pretend not to notice it, and would ask him whether he had the toothache. And yet we were a class of pirates, of cutthroats, I can tell you, but, as you see, we were generous. We boys weren't puny like you when I was a youngster; we were great big chaps, you never saw such great strapping fellows ! There was Mamakin, for instance, in the third grade. Lord ! What a giant he was ! Why, that colossus was seven feet high ! The whole house shook when he walked across the floor and he would knock the breath out of your body if he laid his hand on your shoulder. Not only we boys, but even the masters feared him. Why Mamakin would sometimes—"
Pelagia Ivanovna's footsteps resounded in the next room. Pavel Vasilitch winked at the door and whispered :
"Mother's coming, let's get to work! Very well, then, sonny," he continued, raising his voice. "We want to divide this fraction by that one. All right. To do that we must multiply the numerator of the first by—"
"Come in to tea!" called Pelagia Ivanovna.
Father and son left their arithmetic and went in to tea. Pelagia Ivanovna was already seated at the dining-table with the silent aunt and another aunt who was deaf and dumb and old granny Markovna, who had assisted Stepa into the world. The samovar was hissing and emitting jets of steam that settled in large, dark shadows upon the ceiling. The cats came in from the hall, sleepy, melancholy, their tails standing straight up in the air.
"Do have some preserves with your tea, Markovna !" said Pelagia Ivanovna turning to the old dame. "Tomorrow will be Lent, so you must eat all you can."
Markovna helped herself to a large spoonful of jam, raised it to her lips, and swallowed it with a sidelong glance at Pavel Vasilitch. Next moment a sweet smile broke over her face, a smile almost as sweet as the jam itself.
"These preserves are perfectly delicious!" she exclaimed. "Did you make them yourself, Pelagia Ivanovna, dearie?"
"Yes, of course, who else could have made them? I do everything myself. Stepa, darling, was your tea too weak for you. Mercy, you've finished it already ! Come, hand me your cup, sweetheart, and let me give you some more."
"That young Mamakin I was telling you about, sonny," continued Pavel Vasilitch, turning to Stepa, "couldn't abide our French teacher. 'I'm a gentleman !' he used to exclaim, 'I won't be lorded over by a Frenchman ! ' Of course he used to be flogged for it, and badly flogged, too. When he knew he was in for a thrashing he used to jump through the window and take to his heels, not showing his nose in school after that for five or six days. Then his mother would go to the head master and beg him for pity's sake to find her Mishka and give the scoundrel a thrashing, but the head master used to say: 'That's all very well, madam, but no five of our men can hold that fellow !' "
"My goodness, what dreadful boys there are in the world ! " whispered Pelagia Ivanovna, fixing terrified eyes on her husband. "His poor mother!"
A silence followed—Stepa yawned loudly as he contemplated the Chinaman on the tea-caddy whom he had seen at least a thousand times before. Markovna and the two aunts sipped their tea primly from their saucers. The air was close and oppressive with the heat of the stove. The lassitude that comes to the satiated body when it is forced to continue eating was depicted on the faces and in the movements of the family. The samovar had been taken away and the table had been cleared, but they still continued to sit about the board. Pelagia Ivanovna jumped up from time to time and ran into the kitchen with a look of horror on her face to confer with the cook about supper. The aunts both sat motionless in the same position, dozing with their hands folded on their chests and their lack-lustre eyes fixed on the lamp. Markovna kept hiccoughing every minute and asked each time:
"I wonder what makes me hiccough ? I don't know what I could have eaten or drunk—hick !"
Pavel Vasilitch and Stepa leaned over the table side by side with their heads together, poring over the pages of the Neva Magazine for the year 1878.
"'The monument to Leonardo da Vinci in front of the Victor Emmanuel Museum at Milan.' Look at that, it's like a triumphal arch ! And there are a man and a lady, and there are some more little people—"
"That looks like one of the boys at our school," Stepa said.
"Turn over the page— 'The Proboscis of the House Fly as Seen through the Microscope. ' Goodness what a fly ! I wonder what a bedbug would look like under the microscope, eh? How disgusting!"
The ancient hall clock coughed rather than struck ten times, as if it were afflicted with a cold. Into the dining-room came Anna the cook and fell flop at her master's feet.
"Forgive me my sins, master, for Christ's sake!" she cried and got up again very red in the face.
"Forgive me mine, too, for Christ's sake!" answered Pavel Vasilitch calmly.
Anna then fell down at the feet of every member of the family in turn and asked forgiveness for her sins, omitting only Markovna, who, not being high-born, was unworthy of a prostration.
Another half-hour passed in silence and peace. The Neva was tossed aside onto the sofa and Pavel Vasilitch, with one finger raised aloft, was reciting Latin poetry he had learned in his youth. Stepa was watching his father's finger with its wedding-ring and dozing as he listened to the words he could not understand. He rubbed his heavy eyes with his fist but they kept closing tighter and tighter each time.
"I'm going to bed !" he said at last, stretching and yawning.
"What? To bed?" cried Pelagia Ivanovna. "Won't you eat your meat for the last time before Lent?"
"I don't want any meat."
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" his startled mother exclaimed. "How can you say that ? You won't have any meat after to-night for the whole of Lent !"
Pavel Vasilitch was startled, too.
"Yes, yes, sonny," he cried. "Your mother will give you nothing but Lenten fare for seven weeks after to-night. This won't do. You must eat your meat !"
"But I want to go to bed !" whimpered Stepa.
"Then bring in the supper quick !" cried Pavel Vasilitch in a flutter. "Anna, what are you doing in there, you old slow-coach? Come quick and bring in the supper ! "
Pelagia Ivanovna threw up her hands and rushed into the kitchen as if the house were afire.
"Hurry ! Hurry !" rang through the house. "Stepa wants to go to bed ! Anna ! Oh, heavens, what is the matter? Hurry!"
In five minutes the supper was on the table. The cats appeared once more, stretching and arching their backs, with their tails in the air. The family applied themselves to their meal. No one was hungry, all were surfeited to the point of bursting, but they felt it was their duty to eat.
SHROVE TUESDAY, the day before Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, so called as the day on which "shrift" or confession was made in preparation for the great fast. Skeat (Etym. Dict.) derives the word "shrive," of which "shrove" is the past tense, ultimately from the Lat. scribere, to write, to draw up a law, and hence to prescribe (cf. Ger. schreiben), through the Anglo-Saxon scrifan, to shrive, impose a penance, to judge. Shrove Tuesday is called the French Mardi gras, " Fat Tuesday," in allusion to the fat ox which is ceremoniously paraded through the streets. The Germans know it as Fastendienstag. It is celebrated in Catholic countries, as the last day of the carnival, with feasting and merrymaking, of which, in England, the eating of pancakes alone survives as a social custom, the day having been called at one time "Pancake Tuesday." The association of pancakes with the day was probably due to the necessity for using up all the eggs, grease, lard and dripping in stock preparatory to Lent, during which all these were forbidden.
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Categories: SHI-SIG | Christian lithurgy and rites
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From shrove, past tense of shrive, from the mediaeval practice of priests hearing confessions before Lent, and Tuesday.
Shrove Tuesday
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Shrove Tuesday is a term used in Ireland, the United Kingdom, and Australia for the day preceding the first day of the Christian season of fasting and prayer called Lent.
On Shrove Tuesday people traditionally cook and eat pancakes, the reason for this was to use up foods such as fats and milk before Lent
It is also called pancake day.
In some cultures has close ties with Mischief night
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