Martinstag, or, Why is there a bonfire in front of the church?

St. Martin, atop Mainz's cathedral

Tonight, when fellow choir-members and I disembarked from the Straßenbahn and approached the church where we practice, we were greeted by an enormous blaze. The fact that people of all ages were standing around it was partially reassuring. As we turned up the path, the group around the fire started singing, and my companions joined in lustily on the chorus. I was fascinated, but not enlightened. As we stood around waiting to get into a practice space, there was opportunity to observe more closely. "Oh look!" exclaimed Carina. "How sweet; they've made their own lanterns." "As it should be," rejoined Adrian; "it's not a proper celebration otherwise. Charlotte sidled up next to me. "I'm guessing," she said, "that this isn't a tradition you know very well?" I confessed that I knew it not at all, and received an explanation accordingly.

What we were witnessing was a tradition associated with the vigil of St. Martin. The fourth-century bishop and saint is the patron of Mainz, and so his feast day is a big deal around here. And on the eve of his feast, children make lanterns, and process through the streets singing, receiving baked goods or sweets at the houses where they stop. "My favorite Martinslied is Abends, wenn es dunkel wird," said Charlotte; "unfortunately they don't sing that very often, but there are lots more."

There are indeed. The one sung by the priest and children (and choir-members) outside St. Canisius begins "Sankt Martin ritt durch Schnee und Wind," and doesn't end until the whole story is told.
<iframe width="640" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/6JcICHP9R1s" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe> The website where I found the full text of all eight verses also has everything from lantern patterns to history to recipes. The Martin's goose garnished with mugwort might be a bit much for me, but I might see if I can make a Bischofsbrot.