I grew up in a village in the Lviv region, in that part of Ukraine that remained free from Russian influence until 1939, when it was occupied and forcibly incorporated into the Soviet Union.
Throughout the following years after WW2 — until 1991, when Ukraine regained its independence — the main Christian church in this part of the country, the Greek Catholic Church, was officially forbidden. My mother often told me how, during the 1980s when she was a schoolgirl attending Christmas church services, the Communist Party (which held absolute authority in Soviet society) would force teachers to stand at church entrances and record the names of students who attended, to later subject them to intimidation at school. Some teachers, my mother explained, were secretly religious themselves and would deliberately look away when they saw students entering the church. However, there were also strict Party loyalists whom both students and more lenient teachers tried their best to avoid.
Despite these decades of Soviet oppression, many people secretly continued to celebrate Christmas holidays, and traditions were passed down and preserved almost entirely.
The Christmas season in this region is long-lasting. Until recently — when my family and many others in our region switched to the Julian calendar of holiday celebrations, followed by the official church transition in 2023 — this season stretched from December 1 to January 19, from St. Roman's Day to Epiphany (Jordan). Under the new calendar, these celebrations now run from November 18 to January 6.
For me, the first truly festive holiday of this season is St. Andrew's Day, which provided great entertainment during our school years. Following tradition, boys would playfully remove gates from girls' front yards or write "Andriy" ("Andrew") on them at night. Knowing this tradition, households would try to secure their gates the night before, as finding and reinstalling them, though usually not too difficult, was still an inconvenience.
Girls would do fortune-telling on the evening of St. Andrew's Day. Certainly not a very Christian tradition, but a remnant from pre-Christian pagan times. In the past, unmarried girls and boys would gather in large groups on this evening. In my school years, these could be meetings with several friends, during which we could try some of the fortune-telling methods — for fun. I remember one tradition which involved throwing a boot over a gate to divine the direction from which one's boyfriend would come. My friend's gate was quite tall, and once the boot nearly struck a passing pedestrian — and we certainly heard his reaction to that.
My friends and I approached these fortune-telling traditions more as entertaining games than as serious divination. However, the next holiday — St. Nicholas Day — truly embodied the magic of the Christmas season for me. I'll admit I believed that St. Nicholas himself brought me presents until I was about ten years old.
So, in Ukraine, children generally receive their holiday gifts not on Christmas but on St. Nicholas Day, which falls on the night of December 5th. A few weeks or days before that, children would write letters to St. Nicholas, indicating what gifts they would like to receive that year. My sister and I would go to bed with great anticipation on St. Nicholas Eve and wake up very early (usually around 5 AM) to find presents in large bags beside our beds. At school, showing off our St. Nicholas gifts was always the first order of business.
This holiday holds such special meaning for me that I still write my letter to St. Nicholas, as does my husband. Remarkably, St. Nicholas continues to collect both our letters, even though we're well past the traditional age for his gift-giving :) My parents too receive small presents from St. Nicholas.
Like St. Andrew's Day and St. Nicholas Day, the most magical moments of Christmas itself happen at night. Even without presents, Christmas (particularly Christmas Eve) remains one of my most cherished holidays of the year — perhaps even the most special.
On December 24, Christmas Eve, many older people from the village I am from observe a strict fast, abstaining from food until the evening meal. I embraced this tradition in my school years and continue it today — it creates a special sense of anticipation for the evening. This day should be spent in peaceful quietness. For instance, we avoid watching entertainment programs, as this pre-Christmas Eve fast is a time for remembering the children killed in King Herod's search for the baby Jesus.
The centerpiece of Christmas Eve is the traditional twelve meatless dishes — another custom with its roots in pre-Christian times. While the specific dishes can vary between families, they must all be meatless, containing neither meat nor dairy products. In our family, for example, my mother never prepared the common borshch with vushka (small dumplings), instead serving other main dishes. Here's a typical list of our twelve dishes:
On the four corners of the table under the tablecloth (another pre-Christian custom) we place cloves of garlic, for health, and a few hryvnia bills (Ukrainian currency), for prosperity. The evening meal begins with the appearance of the first star, which I still love looking out for, both as a child and now, often running outside underdressed to scan the night sky. On cloudy evenings when the stars aren't visible, we time our meal by the arrival of twilight.
When everything is set and the candle is also on the table, we pray together and sit down for the best dinner of the year. After our family meal, we visit my maternal grandmother, who lives nearby, for their Christmas Eve dinner.
During these evenings, it's common for carolers to knock on the door or even begin singing without announcement. Everyone gathers at the threshold to listen to the children (usually primary or middle school-aged) who go from house to house singing carols and receiving small monetary gifts. A century ago, in poorer times, these rewards might have been sweets, pampushky (sweet buns), or nuts, but nowadays it's typically money.
But we also sing carols at the table. Unfortunately, less every year, but when my grandfather Andriy was still alive, (he loved to sing very much and sang Ukrainian folk songs almost daily), the whole evening was filled with singing (and not just at Christmas, but actually at all family gatherings).
The lively dinner table conversation gradually settles into a comfortable quiet. Then suddenly, grandfather would begin a carol. Others would join in. But when he sang that one particularly poignant carol, everyone would just listen intently:
"Sad was that Holy Evening,
In the year '46,
Throughout our Ukraine
Crying at every step
They sat down to dinner,
And the children asked:
Mom, mom, where is our father?
Why isn't he at dinner?"
This carol, describing the devastating aftermath of World War II, carries special poignancy today, during the full-scale war with Russia. It might seem that the father died in the war (probably the first association that comes to mind), but it's actually more about the repressions that Ukrainians experienced in Soviet times and which had no less, and ultimately a more devastating impact than the war itself. The mother in the song reveals that the father was exiled to Siberia — a common fate for those who fought for Ukrainian independence during the WW2 and who opposed the Soviet occupation of Ukraine.
"And our father, children,
In far Siberia,
Remembers this Holy Evening
Throughout glorious Ukraine."
The Christmas church service, held late at night (anywhere from midnight to 1 AM or later), continues the Christmas Eve celebrations and creates its own special atmosphere, especially when snow blankets the ground (though snowfall has become less common in recent years). Our village church, built during the Austrian Empire's rule over Halychyna (Galicia), presents a beautiful sight with its coloured glass windows glowing in the darkness as you approach. The service runs longer than usual, sometimes extending to two hours. Though drowsiness often sets in during the service, the magnificent carol singing makes attending worthwhile.
Christmas Day itself is more relaxed and unstructured. Each year we spend it differently, typically enjoying casual family time and entertainment.
We sometimes receive visits from the vertep, a traditional mobile Christmas pageant. I participated in one during my school years. It's a short dramatic performance with specific character roles telling the story of Christ's birth — featuring an Angel, Shepherds, Three Kings, the Jewish characters Moshko and his wife Sura, the Devil, Death, King Herod and his soldiers, and a Cossack.
While I didn't go caroling independently as a child, I occasionally joined church carolers collecting Christmas donations for our local church along my street. Going house to house, repeatedly singing the same joyful carol and seeing our neighbours' festive, delighted faces left lasting warm memories.
Now as an adult, I typically return to work soon after Christmas, but when possible, I also celebrate the following two days: December 26 — Mary's Day, and December 27 — Stefania's Day, the latter holding special significance as my grandmother's name is Stefania.
In my family, New Year's celebration differs from our other Christmas season festivities as it's typically spent with friends. For example, a ski trip to the Carpathian Mountains, which are a short two-hour drive from Lviv.
With our return to the Julian calendar, another religious holiday (known as Old New Year or St. Basil's Day, which I celebrated throughout my childhood on January 13-14) has shifted to December 31 - January 1. Very early in the morning on this day, we might receive early visits from sowers -- traditionally always boys in our region, though in neighbouring areas this role might be filled by girls or both boys and girls. These visitors recite some verse offering good wishes for the year ahead while scattering wheat kernels, saying "Grow and multiply, rye and wheat."
Festive concerts have become an integral part of my Christmas season, with dozens taking place during this period. I particularly enjoy traditional performances of ancient carols, like the ones performed by the Eteria folk ensemble.
The Christmas season concludes with Epiphany on January 6, preceded by Second Christmas Eve on January 5. This second celebration features similar dishes to First Christmas Eve, with slight variations. I'm always glad that there is this second quiet dinner, because the first one always seems not enough. On Epiphany itself, the priest blesses water near the church, which parishioners then take home. Unlike in some regions of Ukraine, the priest doesn't bless water in natural bodies of water, instead using a large vessel near the church.
Yet even this isn't truly the end, but rather another beginning, as it marks the start of shchedrivky — additional Christmas songs traditionally performed by girls. In my home village, while modern caroling involves both boys and girls, shchedrivky songs remain exclusively performed by girls. Both carols and shchedrivky continue until Candlemas on February 2 — traditionally considered the day when winter meets spring in folk beliefs.
Orysia Hrudka, Journalist, author of "Dark Days, Determined People. Stories from Ukraine under Siege"
