On Miķeļdiena

Miķeļdiena is Latvia’s ancient harvest festival, full of folklore tales like the Jumis deity-catching ceremony and the spirit world of Veļu laiks, when ancestors walk among the living. In this episode, we explore traditions and how Miķeļdiena is celebrated in modern-day Latvia.

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On Miķeļdiena

Miķeļdiena is Latvia’s ancient harvest festival, full of folklore and a gateway to the spirit world. Celebrated on 29th September, it is one of the most significant festivals in Latvian cultural tradition, marking far more than just another autumn celebration. This ancient festival marks the culmination of the harvest season, the autumnal equinox, when day and night achieve perfect balance, and intriguingly, the opening of the mystical doorway between the world of the living and the realm of the dead. 

Join me as we recount ancient folk tales and celebrate the Miķeļdiena festival in the old town of Riga.

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The Historical Roots of Miķeļdiena

The origins of Miķeļdiena, also known as Miķelis' Day in English, date back to Latvia’s pre-Christian past, when it was referred to by its early Latvian names of Apjumības or Appļāvības, meaning “the reaping” or “the last harvest”. These names reveal the festival’s practical foundation: this was traditionally the final day when grain could be harvested before the onset of winter. The timing was crucial – by the old calendar, Miķeļdiena fell during the autumn equinox (around 21 - 23 September), when daylight and darkness achieve perfect equilibrium.

The festival’s current name derives from the Christian Archangel Michael, whose feast day conveniently aligned with these ancient celebrations. However, this represents a fascinating example of cultural reconciliation of different forms of belief – the Christian veneer overlaying much older pagan traditions that refused to disappear completely. In Latvian folk songs, Miķelis is celebrated not just as a Christian saint, but as a bread father (maizes tēvs in Latvian) and a bringer of abundance, suggesting the persistence of pre-Christian beliefs about harvest deities.

The story of how Miķeļdiena survived Christianisation provides fascinating insights into cultural persistence. Historical documents reveal the church’s ongoing struggle against pagan practices. As early as 1570, the Courland Duchy’s church laws specifically forbade Latvian peasants from practising dvēseļu mielošana (soul feeding) from Miķeļdiena to All Saints’ Day. The authorities banned offerings of wax, candles, wool, chickens, eggs, and butter – suggesting that these practices remained widespread despite official disapproval.

Particularly intriguing is the continuation of blood sacrifice rituals. Even after centuries of Christianity, farmers continued the ancient practice of sacrificing roosters and smearing their blood on stable doors to protect livestock from evil spirits during the vulnerable Veļu laiks period. This represents remarkable cultural tenacity – the persistence of pre-Christian protective magic despite official religious transformation.

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The mythology of Jumis

Central to understanding Miķeļdiena is the fascinating figure of Jumis, the Latvian deity of fertility and the heart of the harvest. Jumis was believed to inhabit the grain crops literally, and only farmers whose fields were occupied by Jumis would enjoy abundant harvests and fine bread. According to ancient beliefs, this fertility deity was believed to reside within the grain stalks, moving invisibly through the fields. The most dramatic ritual of Miķeļdiena was the Catching of Jumis (Jumja ķeršana), a ceremony that combined agricultural necessity with theatrical drama. Picture the scene. It is a bright day in September. A large field of grain is ready for harvesting. The reapers work systematically from the edges toward the centre, driving Jumis into an ever-smaller sanctuary. The deity realises that the game is up, but still attempts to escape, “fleeing and running all over” as the folk tales describe, until finally cornered in the last remaining bundle of grain. This final sheaf is then carefully bound and brought triumphantly into the farmhouse, where it is stored behind a beam – ensuring Jumis would remain to bless the household throughout the winter. Some families would craft a harvest doll from the last sheaf of grain, decorating it with flowers and ribbons. Once created, the harvest doll was placed in a prominent location in the home or field, serving as a protective charm for the upcoming planting season.

The name Jumis likely comes from the Latvian jumts (roof) and pajumte (house, shelter). That is probably why the final sheaf was hung from the house beam! Jumis can be traced back to the agrarian societies that depended heavily on successful harvests for survival. The abundance of crops was vital for food security, and Jumis emerged as a representation of this critical aspect of life. The deity is often depicted as a dual figure, symbolising both the male and female aspects of fertility, highlighting the balance needed for a successful harvest. According to various legends, Jumis was born from the very first harvested grains. This connection to the earth and its bounty made him a central figure in harvest rituals. Farmers often invoke Jumis during the sowing and harvesting seasons, seeking his blessing to ensure a bountiful yield. This practice underscored the Latvian people's profound respect for nature and its cycles, as they understood that their livelihoods depended on the land's fertility. The relationship emphasised the need for sustainable agriculture practices, as the land's health directly impacted the community's well-being. In this way, Jumis embodies not only the abundance of crops but also the responsibility that comes with farming.

Latvian folklore is rich with tales and legends surrounding Jumis, each illustrating the deity’s importance in the agricultural cycle. One popular story tells how Jumis was once a young man who fell in love with a beautiful maiden. In his pursuit, he promised to provide her with endless harvests. However, the maiden, wanting more than crops, turned him away. Heartbroken, Jumis transformed into a symbol of grain, forever tied to the earth and its bounty. This tale serves as a reminder of the sacrifices made for love and the connection between humans and nature.

Another legend speaks of Jumis as a protector of the fields. In this story, the deity fights off malevolent spirits that threaten the crops. Farmers would tell their children about Jumis’s bravery, instilling a sense of respect for the land and the importance of caring for it. These stories, passed down through generations, emphasise the values of hard work, gratitude, and harmony with nature.

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Weather Prophecy

You may rely on a phone app to forecast the weather. Our favourite is Carrot because of its snarky comments every day. Years ago, there were no apps. Not even weather forecasters on television. Tried and tested beliefs and superstitions ruled.

Miķeļdiena served as a crucial weather-forecasting moment, with farmers carefully observing natural signs to predict the coming winter. You too can do this. Here’s what to look for and what the beliefs predict:

• If acorns still cling to oak trees during Miķeļdiena, a heavy snowfall can be expected at Christmas.
• If it rains on Miķeļdiena, then there will be a warm summer the following year.
• Counting beans or peas on this day will ensure that you will have enough money to count throughout the coming year. 
• If there is frost every night during the time of the spirits (the six weeks from Miķeļdiena until Mārtiņdiena), then expect a late spring.

These weren’t merely superstitions but practical observations dressed in folkloric language, reflecting centuries of agricultural wisdom passed down through generations.

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The Feast of Miķelītis

The Feast of Miķelītis is a culinary tradition of Miķeļdiena. The festival centred around the ritual slaughter of a specially fattened animal – typically a ram, goat, or pig – known as Miķelītis. This creature had explicitly been raised for the occasion, representing the community’s investment in the festival’s success. The festival bread holds particular significance. Homemakers prepared special Jumis bread (Jumja maizes klaips), incorporating grains from every type of crop sown that year. For brewing the celebratory beer, grains from each variety of grain grown were specially selected, creating a drink that literally embodied the year’s entire harvest. This wasn’t merely sustenance but sacrament – each dish connected the community to the divine forces that governed their survival.

During the feast, elaborate rituals ensured the supernatural beings received their due portion. Before anyone could eat, offerings had to be made to the Māju dievi (house gods), with portions of every dish set aside for these protective spirits. The family would honour both Miķelis and Jumis with songs and ceremonial drink offerings, creating a festive atmosphere that celebrated earthly abundance and spiritual protection.

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When the Dead Walk Among the Living

An interesting aspect of Miķeļdiena is its role as the gateway to Veļu laiks – the time of the spirits. These six weeks, lasting from Miķeļdiena until Mārtiņdiena (10th November), represent one of Europe’s most fascinating examples of surviving ancestral veneration practices.

During Veļu laiks, the boundary between the living and the dead becomes permeable. The veļi (souls of the deceased) return to visit their former homes, creating both opportunity and danger for the living. This wasn’t considered a time of horror but of solemn respect and careful protocol. The returning spirits were treated as honoured guests who required proper hospitality.

The living had specific obligations during this period. Tables were set with food for the visiting souls, typically bread, beer, milk, and honey. Clean towels and water basins were provided so the veļi could wash themselves. Candles were lit to help the spirits navigate in the darkness. Most importantly, the living had to modify their behaviour – no loud noises, unnecessary travel, or boisterous celebrations that might disturb or offend the ghostly visitors.

The rules:

• No singing, spinning, trading, beating, hammering, or moving of livestock.
• Spend your evenings by candlelight, doing quiet work while reminiscing about ancestors.
• Tell riddles and stories; however, don’t talk too much, because it can disturb the spirits.
• While eating dinner, throw the best pieces of food on the floor for the spirits of the dead.
• On the night of 1st November, porridge must be brought to the sauna for the spirits.
• You should not talk much on autumn evenings, because it can disturb the spirits.
• If cats meow on autumn evenings, ghosts are walking around the house. 

Folk tales describe people becoming lost when they accidentally walk paths frequented by the dead, finding themselves mysteriously returned to their starting point, no matter how far they travelled. It is said that during the veļu period, one should not walk around at night, because the veļu spirits will mislead you. Those who failed to honour the veļi properly might find their harvests poor or their livestock sickening.

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The Marriage Deadline

Miķeļdiena holds special significance for young people, as it represents the final opportunity for courtship and marriage proposals before winter. After Miķeļdiena, romantic pursuits had to wait until the following year – a tradition that created considerable urgency among Latvia’s youth. This deadline created dramatic tension in communities, with young men rushing to declare their intentions before the magical window closed. Folk traditions suggest that marriages arranged after Miķeļdiena were considered inauspicious, which explains why this particular festival became a crucial moment in the romantic calendar.

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Modern Celebrations and Cultural Revival

Today’s Miķeļdiena celebrations blend ancient traditions with contemporary cultural expression. I went to the traditional harvest fair in Dome Square, located in the old town of Rīga. There were many people there, including numerous tourists. A stage had been set up at the square's northern end, and about a hundred white-covered gazebos, where food producers and craft artisans were selling their products, filled the square and surrounding streets. Farmers displayed their autumn produce – pumpkins, apples, pears, cranberries, and cloudberries. Bakers sold bread - this was a popular attraction as some had sold out just after lunchtime. Local artisans offered traditional crafts including linens, ceramics, jewellery, baskets and wooden items. Other producers sold homemade jams, cheeses, and honey.

The cultural programme on the stage featured folk dance ensembles, traditional music groups, and theatrical performances that brought ancient stories to life. Having done a bit of rock band roadying when I was much younger, I was amazed at how quickly they cleared the stage following a large music ensemble, and within minutes, a dance group was taking the stage. Very professional. The costumes worn by the dance groups, both men and women, were my highlight. So pretty and stylish, from flowing embroidered dresses in regional colourways with matching headgear for women, to the boots, trousers and linen shirts worn by men.

During my childhood in England, my local church in south London held a Harvest Sunday service. I recall bringing vegetables to church, and the vicar would bless the crop. Even if Peckham in south London is a long way from agricultural fields! There were hymns just for Harvest Sunday. The church gave the donated vegetables to poor and needy local people.

In Latvia, the modern celebration of Miķeļdiena serves as a living museum, introducing new generations to traditions that might otherwise disappear while adapting them for contemporary audiences. They are a fascinating blend of ancient and modern – vendors selling products that echo medieval harvest markets while performers interpret traditions that predate Christianity in Latvia. I went to the one in central Rīga. There was, in fact, an even closer one to where I live, in Imanta on the outskirts of Rīga, and similar festivities throughout Latvia. 

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Miķeļdiena represents a cultural continuity spanning over a millennium, exemplifying how ancient traditions have persisted, adapted, and continue to thrive in contemporary Latvia.

Latvians recognise the importance of sustainable farming practices, echoing the values that Jumis represented. As society becomes increasingly aware of environmental issues, the lessons from Jumis’s symbolism of abundance, fertility, and connection to the earth continue to resonate with the people of Latvia today.

It was fun to explore the dramatic tension of the Jumis-catching ceremony, the eerie atmosphere of Veļu laiks when ancestors walk among the living, or the romantic urgency created by the marriage deadline. The weather prediction traditions show how pre-scientific cultures developed sophisticated observation systems, which you can try. In contrast, the food traditions reveal how communities used feasts and rituals to bind themselves together during times of uncertainty.

[Illustration by An Englishman in Latvia. Music by theyumecollective from Pixabay]