My profound and life-long affection for February 2, Candlemas Day, started when Sister Principal asked me to sell candles at the church door from 6:30 am ‘till after the 8:30 am weekday Mass on that very day.  I considered one of the main privileges of my grade school “career”.

There were three of four sizes of 51% beeswax candles.  I covered the vintage spindle leg table, used only for special occasions, with a freshly pressed white linen, laced tablecloth.  Arranged the candles according to group, of course vested in a red festal cassock and equally laced surplice. Yes our home parish was into, what some called, “high church” festival. I just thought it was a great honor.  And, boy did I get some envious eyes as the entire school processed through the main doors for the last Mass of the holy day.

The senior women with Mrs Gadawski at the head of the “Toward the Stars” society, came in with their thick, dark amber, 100% beeswax candles, each with a tin foil crown to catch the drippings.  The only other time I saw these candles was for a funeral of a member of the society.  Then, ladies with lit candles would form a 18-20 pair honor guard in the center aisle, through which the priest led the casket.

On Candlemas these tradition bearers decked their waxen torches with white ribbons, sometimes fern   It seemed very much their feast day.  The Pastor, Fr. John, blessed, sprinkled and incensed their lights, transforming them into the legendary “thunder candles”. Mamma, who always attended this Mass, used to light this blessed candle during fierce thunderstorms, hence their name.  Sr. Juliette told us to take along a box of matches for the blessing, because, in her more intriguing manner, she told us “Blessed matches are the only kind that would work in the last days.” Boy, did we want to be the only ones with these supernatural magic matches.

greenery or small flowers.

In my freshman year at high school, my father succumbed to a nearly deathly combination of double pneumonia and pleurisy.  Late one night the phone rang, and soon my father’s closest friend came by to wiz my mother off to the hospital.  Just before closing the door, she said, “Light the thunder candle.”  I scampered around my parents’ bedroom on crutches, searching for the candle.  I had broken my leg on New Year’s Eve in my Christmas gift of ice skates. My mom had her hands full that year.

I knew lighting the candle blessed on Feb. 2, meant a prayer of some sort.  Little did I know my father was dying. Mamma came home long after sunrise, saying, “Daddy will be ok.”  Surviving the illness under the care of an elderly Austrian doctor, after three weeks he returned home, still quite weakened.  I knew I did the best a broken-legged, freshman, son could do: light the “thunder candle.”

SUNDAY, Feb. 2 at 10am The Church of St Casimir, Buffalo, NY, will bless and process with “Thunder Candles” to Polish Carols sung by the Quo Vadis Choir, led by their award winning composer and director, Dr. Ireneusz Łukaszewski.

FMI see http://www.seekandfind.com/find/st-casimir-oratory