Balkan Christmas Traditions Overwhelm Transhumanists

On St. Ignatius, a feast of a saint, the pig is sacrificed, and there is a real ritual of its slaughter in accordance with ancestral beliefs. While it is scorched, the Christians serve a glass of palinca, a traditional Romanian drink of 60 degrees. During the Saturnalia, in the old Roman Empire, animal sacrifices were made to the gods, a custom also kept by Christians. Pork alms are prepared from pieces of meat, which are given, along with roasted mice, to the neighbors. However, the new progressive laws restrict and even ban these habits, but people prefer to pay fines rather than give them up. Bacon, ham, and sausages are put in salt and then smoked with a cold smoke produced by the sawdust of plums. In Serbia, big bonfires are made in front of people’s houses and even near churches on Christmas Eve to ward off evil spirits. Before Christmas, women prepare sarmals, make buns, and decorate the tree together with the little ones. These days, people tend to drop traditional forms of address when they meet. Instead of the usual greetings, they say, “Christ is born!” when I see someone, and the other person responds, “True is born!” Of course, there are also some who arrived from the west, possessed by the “climate change” ideology, which fully spills its carbon footprint. You recognise them easily. They speak in slogans, they have judicial voices, and they believe in the revolutionary mission of their lives: saving the planet. I do not receive carolers and do not give them money, as is the custom. He does not kiss the cross when the priest comes for Epiphany, the last Orthodox holiday. They sit at the Christmas table with their noses powdered and their eyebrows arched in various forms of disdain, cooing, and criticising ancestral smells. They argue with you when you tell them about the Immaculate Conception. I tell you that science proves that nothing grows without seeding, even artificial seeding. The Nativity of the Lord is perhaps the most important religious holiday in the Balkans, full of ancient traditions and customs, much enjoyed by Westerners. More and more people are coming to the Balkans to participate and see the preserved wonders of the past. At the Christmas table, the Orthodox serves traditional dishes and listens to carols as a sign of reconciliation and prosperity. Because Christmas Day is celebrated on the shortest day of the year, when it is the Winter Solstice, the villagers light fires in the courtyard or in the stoves to prolong the light as much as possible. Light has great significance in the Orthodox faith. This is the charic fire, which lights itself in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem on Holy Saturday, the day before Orthodox Easter. Many consider it the oldest wonder of the Christian world. Through the wood fire, I bring it on the shortest day of the year to remind me of the mysterious light seen by the Magi on the night of the birth of the baby Jesus. When the glory of God poured over the hills of Bethlehem, the Magi saw a mysterious light in the heavens. The light went out, a bright star appeared, and it lingered in the sky. They fell asleep. Through dreams, they were directed to go look for the newborn prince. However, the transhumanist does not agree to anything. He goes to dinner with his grandparents, more out of obligation. He sits on the old chair, a friend says, like on a scooter, opening his applications, which calculate the correct ratio between carbohydrates and the number of calories, between lipids and carbohydrates, proteins, and vitamins. He eats a little, but with great grimaces. He talks about food waste. For the new transhumanists (still in the Balkans; they are a minority), Christmas is a winter holiday. He is ashamed to say that Jesus was born! He is overwhelmed by the dialectic of saving the planet. He would eat cricket flour and avocado caltabois, but he does not want to offend his family, which is too traditional for his tastes, chiselled by his long visits to the nutritionist. With the bare ankles of carolers, who wear their new woollen stockings and leather boots with great ride, To him, carolers are nothing more than beggars. He would rather go to his square metre in the west, but he remains at the mouth of his parents. He only wears rubber shoes because he’s fighting to save the planet. In his opinion, the fir tree is a relic, and the carol is a distressed trapper. He wouldn’t give a single euro to charity! It seems like an outdated habit. He does not believe in death, but in an immaterial passage. It sits on thorns for several days. He must endure. He has nothing to do. Traditionalists are in the majority. On Christmas day, he does not go to church with his loved ones. He sits on his gadgets and carols on social networks. He only likes pets, so as not to be accused by corporate colleagues of having indulged in traditional customs. The buff-shod transhumanist hates the smell of sarmals. He doesn’t put fried mice in his mouth for fear of losing the shine of his laser-whitened teeth. Caltaboși stinks, just like the cabbage juice, called moare, that drags the revellers into the morning. In Transylvania and Hungary, after the New Year’s holiday, Korhely leves, a sour cabbage soup, is served in the morning. “Eternity was born in the village,” a great Romanian poet would prophesy. The oldest Christian customs and traditions are preserved in the ancestral heart. Believers believe that life is a long journey between the light of the Saviour’s birth and the Resurrection, another great celebration and occasion of glory.

By Marius Ghilezan