For those of you not in the know, St Lucia’s Day is December 13th. It is celebrated in a number of countries, but this post is specifically about the Swedish celebration. You may have seen a picture of a beautiful blond girl, dressed in a white dress with a red sash and a wreath on her head with burning candles? That is St Lucia, as celebrated in Sweden or countries influenced by Sweden. But the story does not start in Sweden.
It starts in Sicily. The year is 304 CE. The emperor of Rome is Diocletian. Well, he’s one of the emperors anyway. Diocletian appointed three other co-emperors and junior emperors to help him stabilize the empire, and that dream had not yet totally failed.
Diocletian also had a number of other creative ideas about reforms, one of which was to get rid of the Christian cult that was growing like a malignant disease. For the past 300 years, Rome had mostly tolerated Christians because, speaking honestly, those weirdos were no threat. However, they were proliferating. Possibly as much as ten percent of the empire was now Christian, and that included a fair number of wealthy and influential people. Also a fair number of soldiers in the army were Christian.
Not only did these people have seriously sketchy beliefs, but those beliefs were in direct conflict with Diocletian’s traditional Roman cult. He himself was associated with Jupiter, his co-emperor with Hercules. Sacrifices to the gods were required, and Christians refused to participate, which was destabilizing, both religiously and politically. Something had to be done.
Over four edicts, Diocletian made his displeasure known, ending with one in 304, which declared that all men, women, and children would gather for a collective sacrifice. Anyone who refused was to be executed.
All of the above falls firmly into the category of history, with multiple accepted sources. Two years ago when I did a holiday special on the Virgin Mary, I discussed what counts as a historical source and what doesn’t. Basically, the gold standard is multiple eye-witness accounts written shortly after the event by people who had no reason to lie. That’s a high standard, and when we haven’t got it, we make do with what we have got, making judgements about just how confident we can be about what we think we know. I’m pretty confident about the Diocletian persecutions of Christians.
But as you likely know, Diocletian did not win the long-term battle against Christianity. Subsequent generations of Christians wrote many accounts that are collectively known as the Acts of the Martyrs. These texts tell the stories of the Christians who suffered horrible deaths because of their beliefs during this period. Unfortunately, they were mostly written well after the fact, by people who could not possibly have been eye-witnesses, for the purpose of promoting faith. As historical sources go, that’s problematic.

I don’t mean to suggest no one died a horrible death. I’m quite sure that many people did. However, the actual details of particular deaths definitely sound like something my uncle’s best friend’s great-aunt’s neighbor might have said, and historians look on the details of most of these martyrs with extreme skepticism. I will hasten to add that this does not mean you cannot believe them. Only that this belief is based on faith rather than on historical evidence. Which is fine. It’s just good to be clear on the difference. Anyway, one of those martyrs is St Lucy.
The Story of St Lucy
Lucy appeared on the lists of Christian martyrs in about 450 CE (that’s 146 years after the Diocletian persecutions). The most popular account of her tragic end was written by Italian chronicler Jacobus de Voragine in about 1260 (that’s 956 years after the Diocletian persecutions).
The story goes that in the year 304, a girl named Lucy traveled from her home in Syracuse, Sicily, to the shrine of St Agatha. There Lucy prayed for her mother, who had been hemorrhaging blood for years. Lucy fell asleep and St Agatha appeared to her in a vision and said that her mother was made whole, which upon awaking was miraculously true. So Lucy made a lifetime vow of virginity and also began giving all her wealth to the poor.
Naturally the man to whom she was promised objected to both of those vows. When confronted, Lucy said she had found someone for nobler and better than her fiance, by which she meant God. God is admittedly hard to compete with, but still there are more tactful ways of dumping a guy. The ex-fiance got mad, and can you blame him? But his response was to out Lucy as a Christian to the legal authorities, and remember Diocletian is stamping out Christianity just now, so that’s not good.
Lucy got hauled before a judge, and the two of them had a little theological debate, and then he sentenced her to a brothel where she would lose her virginity for sure. But miraculously, when the villains came to drag her away, the Holy Ghost descended upon her and made her very, very heavy! So heavy that they could not move her. Even with multiple men, ropes, enchanters, and oxen, “she abode alway still as a mountain without moving.”
The judge was furious, so he ordered a pyre built around her, so he could burn her to death, but though the flames raged, Lucy herself did not burn. She continued to preach and prophesy of Christ, so they stabbed her in the throat with a sword. But still she did not die until a priest came and gave her the sacraments. Then she gave up the ghost, still a virgin, and became the patron saint of Syracuse. That is the story of St Lucy, as told by Voragine.

Lucy’s assigned saint’s day was December 13th, chosen because in the Julian calendar that was the winter solstice, the day of least sunlight. The name Lucy or Lucia or Luca is derived from the Latin lux, which means light (Cassell, 74).
Lucy’s association of light was further strengthened by a still later addition to her story that appeared in a 1497 account (that’s 1,193 years after her death). According to that and later versions, Lucy’s eyes were so beautiful that young men were smitten by her, a major problem for a girl with a vow of virginity.
Matthew 5:29 says “And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.” If you ask me, Jesus was speaking metaphorically here, saying that we should prune those habits and practices that are not helping us to get where we want to go, which is good solid advice, whether you’re religious or not.
But of course there is the totally literal interpretation, which is the one used in this addition to the story. Lucy’s eyes were the cause of temptation for men and a danger for her, so she plucked her own eyes out with a wooden stake, placed them on a platter, and had them delivered to the most amorous young man (Cassell, 74). She is often depicted in art with two eyes being served up on a plate, though I notice that she still has eyes in her head as well. I’m not too sure how that works, anatomically speaking, but the paintings are gruesome enough as they are, so I’m glad.

At any rate, Lucia is the patron saint of light and vision. She was an inspiration for poets like Dante and John Donne.
It makes total sense that she is a popular saint in Syracuse, in Sicily, and in Italy as a whole. It makes a whole lot less sense that her celebration is so popular in Sweden and Scandinavia, Protestant countries every one, and they were never part of the Roman empire anyway.
How a Sicilian Saint Got to Sweden
Lucy appealed to the people in Sweden because December 13th was already a significant date to them, long before Christianity arrived. Naturally, for people living so close to the Arctic circle (or even beyond the Arctic circle for some of them), the winter solstice was highly significant. It was the darkest night of the year, and the return of the sun was to be celebrated with lights and feasting. You had to finish your work for the season and the feasting in advance, because if you did not, the Lussekäringen (an evil witch) would ride through the skies to punish you and steal naughty children away. You might even call on a heathen goddess of light to protect you (Posse).
All of that was probably in place well before Christianity ever made it that far north, though admittedly written records are scarce.
The first attempt to convert the Swedes was in 830, but people aren’t converted all in a day, and the process wasn’t considered complete until the 12th century.
One of the reasons Christianity has been so successful at spreading around the world is that it is amazingly good at blending local practices into Christian doctrine, and here we are with a Christian saint celebrated with light on the darkest night of the year, at exactly the same time as the local tradition of light and feasting was happening anyway.
Even so, there is no record of a girl dressing up in white as Lucia until 1764 when a traveler wrote that a white-clad lady with a belt around her waist and large candles came in with a great many good things to eat (Swedish Institute). It was already being listed as a long-standing custom in that area, so there is no knowing just how old it was.
By 1764, December 13th was already not actually the winter solstice. The Julian calendar had been set up by Julius Caesar, with the help of astronomers from Alexandria in Egypt, which means they were Cleopatra’s subjects, probably working under her patronage. The Julian calendar was a major improvement over previous calendars, but still not perfect. It had too many leap days, so over the centuries, there was a little drift against what the sun thought a full year was. The Gregorian calendar was a tiny little modification that cut out some of the leap days to keep the sun better in line. Sweden had switched to the Gregorian calendar only eleven years before that first recorded instance of a St Lucia celebration, but clearly traditions don’t actually care what either the sun or the calendar says. St Lucia’s day had always been December 13th, and it continued to be December 13th, even if the actual solstice was a little later.
A Growing Tradition
By the 19th century, nationalism was in full swing, and people across Europe wanted to celebrate whatever their local customs were. Or create new ones if necessary (a lot of our Christmas traditions date from the 19th century). Dressing up as Lucia and wandering from house to house to either serve (or beg for) coffee, baked goods, and alcoholic drinks was a popular pastime for young adults (Swedish Institute).
Even so, it did not achieve universal acceptance in Sweden until the 20th century when schools and local municipalities began promoting it. By then, Lucia was played by a young girl, chosen specially for the role. The first national Lucia was chosen in 1927, but most schools and communities have a local version as well. Then (and now) Lucia wears a white dress and a red sash and on her head is a crown of real (or possibly battery-operated) candles.

I have read several websites that explain that the unusual headwear is because Lucia herself wore such a wreath when she visited the Christians hiding in the catacombs. She needed light down there, obviously, and wearing the light on her head left her hands free to bring much needed food and supplies. Which is a beautiful image and perfectly logical, except that that Voragine account of her life that I told you about didn’t actually include a scene like that, did it? So we’re talking about a still later addition to the story.
One possibility is that this part is a blend with yet another tradition. In Germanic countries it wasn’t Santa Claus who brought Christmas gifts, but the Christkindlein or Christ child, who is often depicted as a young girl in white with candles (Posse).
Wherever the Lucia costume comes from, she now leads the procession, and the other girls follow, also dressed in white but with just a candle in hand instead of a crown. Boys get to be stars or Christmas elves at the back. The problem with this is that every girl wants to be Lucia, and some of the boys do too. It often came down to a popularity contest with the inevitable hurt feelings and cattiness involved. Today, Lucia may be chosen by random draw in an attempt to calm that down and keep the holiday spirit (Swedish Institute).
Regardless of how Lucia is chosen, everyone sings during the procession. There are many Saint Lucia songs, and if you are interested stay tuned at the end of today’s episode where I will play and sing the most famous one. It’s a traditional Italian tune, not a Swedish tune, but I suppose that’s appropriate for St. Lucy. I’ll be singing in English, so you can hopefully get the words, which are far more about midwinter than they are about Christianity.
Today the most common treat to serve on Saint Lucia’s day is lussekatter, which are saffron buns twisted up into a shape which I did not recognize as having a significance, but they are (apparently) eyes to represent St Lucia plucking hers out or possibly to represent Lussekäringen, who was peering in to look for naughty children, take your pick. Or still other sources say the shape is to resemble a cat’s tail. Again, choose whatever interpretation you like. The saffron not only gives the buns a golden yellow color, reminiscent of candlelight, but is also suitably luxurious and celebratory as the world’s most expensive spice by weight. I have never made or eaten lussekatter, but I am considering it for this December 13th. Here’s a link to a recipe, in case you would like to join me.

Though this particular St Lucia tradition is clearly from Sweden, you may be able to see a version of it in other countries as well. The neighboring Scandinavian countries know a good idea when they see one, and they have picked up the tradition. At one point, it was also possible to see it in the United States, which is not surprising, given that in 1910, one out of every five Swedes on the planet lived in the US (Edstrom, 65). Unfortunately, our Swedish-American communities have been at least partially absorbed into the general culture, and I have never seen a St Lucia procession here. Possibly I’m in the wrong part of the country. If you are celebrating St Lucia’s day this year, scroll down and leave a comment telling us how it goes!
Selected Sources
Bramen, Lisa. “Lussekatter and Cuccia for St. Lucy’s Day.” Smithsonian Magazine, 10 Dec. 2010, http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/lussekatter-and-cuccia-for-st-lucys-day-26001669/. Accessed 23 Nov. 2023.
Cassell, Anthony K. “Santa Lucia as Patroness of Sight: Hagiography, Iconography, and Dante.” Dante Studies, with the Annual Report of the Dante Society, no. 109 (1991): 71–88. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40166438.
de Voragine, Jacobus. “The Golden Legend.” Internet History Sourcebooks: Medieval Sourcebook, 1275, sourcebooks.fordham.edu/basis/goldenlegend/GoldenLegend-Volume2.asp#Lucy. Accessed 23 Nov. 2023.
“Diocletian Persecution – Primary Sources.” Fourth Century Christianity, http://www.fourthcentury.com/persecution-sources/.
Edström, Vivi Blom. Selma Lagerlöf. Translated by Barbara Lide, Boston : Twayne Publishers, 1984.
“Lucia.” Www.svenskakyrkan.se, 1 Nov. 2022, http://www.svenskakyrkan.se/jul/lucia. Accessed 24 Nov. 2023.
“Lucia and Lussekatter.” Semiswede, 13 Dec. 2011, semiswede.com/2011/12/13/lucia-and-lussekatter/#:~:text=In%20northern%20Sweden%20there%20is. Accessed 24 Nov. 2023.
Posse, Lovisa Sénby. “The Tradition of Lucia and the Bringer of Light.” Scandinavian Archaeology, 13 Dec. 2021, http://www.scandinavianarchaeology.com/the-tradition-of-lucia-and-the-bringer-of-light/. Accessed 23 Nov. 2023.
Swedish Institute. “Lucia in Sweden.” Sweden.se, 28 May 2013, sweden.se/culture/celebrations/the-lucia-tradition.
Feature Image by Claudia Gründer – Claudia Gründer, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3221537
I think I have had those buns to eat as a kid in school. Someone was teaching us about Lucia’s Day. I remember hoping they would taste like cinnamon rolls, but being disgusted that they really didn’t taste like anything. Obviously, whoever made the version I ate didn’t include saffron, but I do remember picking out the raisins to eat and leaving the rest. Tsk. Terrible, wasteful Kate-kid.
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