We mentioned in our blog of September 14 that we attended a New England Clam Bake, through the generosity of Dan and Chris. We promised that there was more to come, and this is our attempt to convey a feast, a festival and, we believe, a ritual that was amazing, even sacred.
Context: Major human rituals frequently involve food and some specific acts, costumes, stories and the acknowledgement of some fundamental connection to the power of the uni
verse and our place in it. Anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss, history of religions expert Mircea Eliade and others have had much to say about this. In many many cases, the focus of the research has been around the question of utility, the function of the ritual.
Question: What is the function of a New England Clambake? Of Thanksgiving, Seder, Ramadan, the Christian Eucharist?
Pattern: It seems such a great coincidence of calendars that it calls out for some comparison or contrast.
First, there is a powerful creature, a life saving protean which is the center of the festival, the focus of the rituals. For people in the U.S. it is the turkey, nominated, as we know, by Ben Franklin, to be the national bird, and justifiably so, since it literally was a major source of protein for the early Pilgrim settlers, as it had been for indigenous peoples for eons before. And for some groups of folks living on the U.S. east coast that protean critter, ri
tual producer and protector of life is the lowly clam. I don't know if anyone ever nominated the clam to a national high symbolic office, but after we participated in the Bake, I nominate it as National Bivalve!
Second, there is a long period of preparation in which various roles are assigned to some lucky members of the community. I mean, it is a big deal, is it not, about who gets to cook the turkey, gets to work in the kitchen on Ahavath Beth Israel Deli Days, what kind of stuffing and whose corned beef, and whose's recipe and whose hands get to prepare it. And, in New England, what kind of sweet potatoes, white potatoes; and perhaps on some Thanksgiving tables the stewed oysters, and whether to have real cranberries or the slices from the can. And then the big O Thanksgiving question: which kinds of pie -- not sweet potato in the Midwest, but definitely in the Southeast; maybe mincemeat if you have Scotch-Irish or German in your family tree; but without doubt the pumpkin is required, yet another salvific contributor to the health of our forbearers. The biggest deal is on which hallowed ground and under whose leadership will this take place? Moms, Gramma (which one this year?), or the Kazbah Restaurant in Boise with the homeless?
So with the Crab Bake: food, enough for 300-400, is gathered from all over the area. Barter, buy, hook and crook. Corn on the cob (yet another indigenous contribution), potatoes, (I thought they came from the Irish until I read Wendell Berry, where I learned they came from Peru, yet another indigenous contributor); onion (good sweet Valdalias, Idaho Yellows?); carrots; the hand-stuffed home-made sausages from the feral devil of the forest, that snorty, available pig; and the protean live lobsters, and the key high status clams -- by the thousands, by the bag load, the box load, the truck load! So those were the producers and the gathers, honored citizens playing out their roles in the drama. Then came the preparers, those who boxed and organized the items along the long, long tables, packing them each into cheesecloth all neatly tied off and placed in the wooden slat boxes.
But in the background, before we came on the scene, it was the fire! The Fire Clan had been hauling wood and stone and huge bags of sea weed for days now. When we arrived at 11:00AM the fire was already well under way, turning into embers before our eyes. The huge fire is built and then covered with a mound of rocks after the embers are all settled and aglow. The Fire Clan starts out in ordinary dress, like the rest of us, and then they emerge in exotic costumes of yellow and black that look a lot like -- Firefighters!
Think of the candles on your table at Thanksgiving, at Seder, at Ramadan, at any great feast, those pale reminders of the open hearth fire, or that fire pit, or the barbecue, of that time before electric and gas lights, but still a symbol of life, warmth and sun-blessed fecundity. Just like those clams and lobsters from the sea, from the water, so our water glasses, and our baptismal fonts, and the water, fire, bread and wine of the Eucharist on Easter Eve. Every tradition has its water power!
The firemen rake away the stones, then the embers, all clad in their heat resistant costumes of yellow and black, helmets and boots, gloves and smoke masks. The heat may reach nearly 1,000 degrees F! Very hot! Once the stones and embers are raked off-- and the Fire Clan members frequently hosed down by the Water People --
they begin to rake it all off, with boots smoking, gloves singeing, working under extreme heat and stress, darting in and out , two-stepping their way to deadly heat and back to water. But they keep at it, dancing with the fire and the heat, circling, racing in and out like heroes battling the demons of hell, while rescuing the food for the community from those deadly maws of heat.
Now the ground is bare, and the wood-sided crates, containing twenty or so sacks of food, one per customer, are load on, stack upon stack. Finally the dancing Fire Masters cover the heap of food with layers and layers of what one might call sea weed, wet with the water of the sea, to create the moisture needed for the cooking. When that is done, the dancing Fire Clan then spread tarps over the entire pile, smothering and smoking and cooking all of those precious foods at one time, all the while dancing in and out of the hoses to cool themselves down and keep their smoking boots from cooking their feet. It takes about another hour and a half or so of cooking. And you thought your ritual was long! Aah, but this is worth the meditation, the waiting, the anticipation.
So what is the function of this? What is its use? Is it to feed the whole community with one last, good meal, and therefore to reinforce some social connectedness, belonging, and perhaps at least one good memory before heading back into the dark of winter? Well, heck, it only lasts for a day! How functional is that? Is it to recognize and reinforce various levels of social standing, associated with the roles performed in the ritual, from top to bottom and all in between?
And what of Thanksgiving? Is its function to recognize social standing within the family and the extended family and friends? Is it to redistribute gifts, like the potlaches of the Northwest?
Or maybe it is also a way of organizing a complex cultural event, complete with sacred symbols, rites and sacred creatures, as a mean of giving thanks for our own and the the community's participation in the (this year) bountiful, complex dance of life itself. Could it be that fire and water, smoke and generosity, sharing and open commonsality, members and outsiders all contribute to our communal well being? That sharing and community go hand in hand? Sure! Maybe it's just fun, that we are all alive and sharing this day. And let's include all the saints, our history and tradition. Are we having a good time yet? You bet! Let's eat! (Oh, Holy Cow, did I say that!)
Context: Major human rituals frequently involve food and some specific acts, costumes, stories and the acknowledgement of some fundamental connection to the power of the uni
verse and our place in it. Anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss, history of religions expert Mircea Eliade and others have had much to say about this. In many many cases, the focus of the research has been around the question of utility, the function of the ritual.Question: What is the function of a New England Clambake? Of Thanksgiving, Seder, Ramadan, the Christian Eucharist?
Pattern: It seems such a great coincidence of calendars that it calls out for some comparison or contrast.
First, there is a powerful creature, a life saving protean which is the center of the festival, the focus of the rituals. For people in the U.S. it is the turkey, nominated, as we know, by Ben Franklin, to be the national bird, and justifiably so, since it literally was a major source of protein for the early Pilgrim settlers, as it had been for indigenous peoples for eons before. And for some groups of folks living on the U.S. east coast that protean critter, ri
tual producer and protector of life is the lowly clam. I don't know if anyone ever nominated the clam to a national high symbolic office, but after we participated in the Bake, I nominate it as National Bivalve!Second, there is a long period of preparation in which various roles are assigned to some lucky members of the community. I mean, it is a big deal, is it not, about who gets to cook the turkey, gets to work in the kitchen on Ahavath Beth Israel Deli Days, what kind of stuffing and whose corned beef, and whose's recipe and whose hands get to prepare it. And, in New England, what kind of sweet potatoes, white potatoes; and perhaps on some Thanksgiving tables the stewed oysters, and whether to have real cranberries or the slices from the can. And then the big O Thanksgiving question: which kinds of pie -- not sweet potato in the Midwest, but definitely in the Southeast; maybe mincemeat if you have Scotch-Irish or German in your family tree; but without doubt the pumpkin is required, yet another salvific contributor to the health of our forbearers. The biggest deal is on which hallowed ground and under whose leadership will this take place? Moms, Gramma (which one this year?), or the Kazbah Restaurant in Boise with the homeless?
So with the Crab Bake: food, enough for 300-400, is gathered from all over the area. Barter, buy, hook and crook. Corn on the cob (yet another indigenous contribution), potatoes, (I thought they came from the Irish until I read Wendell Berry, where I learned they came from Peru, yet another indigenous contributor); onion (good sweet Valdalias, Idaho Yellows?); carrots; the hand-stuffed home-made sausages from the feral devil of the forest, that snorty, available pig; and the protean live lobsters, and the key high status clams -- by the thousands, by the bag load, the box load, the truck load! So those were the producers and the gathers, honored citizens playing out their roles in the drama. Then came the preparers, those who boxed and organized the items along the long, long tables, packing them each into cheesecloth all neatly tied off and placed in the wooden slat boxes.
But in the background, before we came on the scene, it was the fire! The Fire Clan had been hauling wood and stone and huge bags of sea weed for days now. When we arrived at 11:00AM the fire was already well under way, turning into embers before our eyes. The huge fire is built and then covered with a mound of rocks after the embers are all settled and aglow. The Fire Clan starts out in ordinary dress, like the rest of us, and then they emerge in exotic costumes of yellow and black that look a lot like -- Firefighters!
Think of the candles on your table at Thanksgiving, at Seder, at Ramadan, at any great feast, those pale reminders of the open hearth fire, or that fire pit, or the barbecue, of that time before electric and gas lights, but still a symbol of life, warmth and sun-blessed fecundity. Just like those clams and lobsters from the sea, from the water, so our water glasses, and our baptismal fonts, and the water, fire, bread and wine of the Eucharist on Easter Eve. Every tradition has its water power!
The firemen rake away the stones, then the embers, all clad in their heat resistant costumes of yellow and black, helmets and boots, gloves and smoke masks. The heat may reach nearly 1,000 degrees F! Very hot! Once the stones and embers are raked off-- and the Fire Clan members frequently hosed down by the Water People --
they begin to rake it all off, with boots smoking, gloves singeing, working under extreme heat and stress, darting in and out , two-stepping their way to deadly heat and back to water. But they keep at it, dancing with the fire and the heat, circling, racing in and out like heroes battling the demons of hell, while rescuing the food for the community from those deadly maws of heat.Now the ground is bare, and the wood-sided crates, containing twenty or so sacks of food, one per customer, are load on, stack upon stack. Finally the dancing Fire Masters cover the heap of food with layers and layers of what one might call sea weed, wet with the water of the sea, to create the moisture needed for the cooking. When that is done, the dancing Fire Clan then spread tarps over the entire pile, smothering and smoking and cooking all of those precious foods at one time, all the while dancing in and out of the hoses to cool themselves down and keep their smoking boots from cooking their feet. It takes about another hour and a half or so of cooking. And you thought your ritual was long! Aah, but this is worth the meditation, the waiting, the anticipation.
So what is the function of this? What is its use? Is it to feed the whole community with one last, good meal, and therefore to reinforce some social connectedness, belonging, and perhaps at least one good memory before heading back into the dark of winter? Well, heck, it only lasts for a day! How functional is that? Is it to recognize and reinforce various levels of social standing, associated with the roles performed in the ritual, from top to bottom and all in between?
And what of Thanksgiving? Is its function to recognize social standing within the family and the extended family and friends? Is it to redistribute gifts, like the potlaches of the Northwest?
Or maybe it is also a way of organizing a complex cultural event, complete with sacred symbols, rites and sacred creatures, as a mean of giving thanks for our own and the the community's participation in the (this year) bountiful, complex dance of life itself. Could it be that fire and water, smoke and generosity, sharing and open commonsality, members and outsiders all contribute to our communal well being? That sharing and community go hand in hand? Sure! Maybe it's just fun, that we are all alive and sharing this day. And let's include all the saints, our history and tradition. Are we having a good time yet? You bet! Let's eat! (Oh, Holy Cow, did I say that!)
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