There aren’t a ton of summer holidays that we celebrate in the US outside of the Fourth of July.  Rather, we celebrate summer for summer’s sake, if you will. And why wouldn’t you? The weather’s nicer, the kids are out of school, and the only concern of yours could center around what drink you’re going to enjoy by the pool today.

As a youth, my summers were usually blocked out with weeks-long sleepaway camps in the Catskill Mountains of New York. Our Ukrainian parents packed us up and shipped us off to speak our language together, to share our culture together, and to create lifelong bonds together. Whether they meant that literally or figuratively depends on who you ask. Over the past year, I can’t count how many marriages I saw on social media that were definitely kindled during one of these camps.

Sure, most of these relationships are built on a foundation of trust and mutual attraction. But some of the sparks that I saw during the summer months had their roots in old Slavic traditions.

===================================

In many Eastern European countries, Kupala is celebrated on the eve of July 6th- by the “old calendar,” that date marks the Summer Solstice. Ukrainians will often refer to the holiday as “Ivana Kupala,” but we’ll get to that in a moment. The word “Kupala” literally translates to “bathe,” which aligns with traditions surrounding bodies of water. But the name itself is ironic- according to some sources, Kupalo was the ancient Slavic Pagan god of the summer sun, marriage, and the earth’s fertility. During Kupala, young, unmarried women plait wreaths of flowers and send them to float down a river, often with a lit candle in the center. The wreaths flow downstream towards their male counterparts. If a wreath successfully makes it to a man at the end of the river- candle still lit and intact- it’s said that a relationship is sure to blossom between him and the woman who placed the wreath in the waters.

Not all wreaths make it to the men, however. Women whose wreaths get lost or extinguished along the way will simply need to try their luck again the next year.

As for the lucky couples: the newly bonded pairs must prove that their relationship will stay strong. In a separate ritual, couples hold hands while leaping over a bonfire to prove their faith and bravery. Those who fail to do so- whether by actually falling in the flames or letting go of their partner’s hands- are doomed to separate down the line.

Let me take you back in time real quick to one of those summer camps I mentioned earlier. The camp’s directors decided to do a “toned down” version of the festival for a group of us- I want to say we were all around 9-12 years old. There was a dramatic reenactment (on a big blue tarp) of a folklore tale where a Christianized version of Kupalo- dubbed Ivana Kupala- drowns in a river in search of his beloved, Maryna (more on her in a minute). We didn’t get to float any wreaths down the tarp, but they did have us all get in pairs and jump over a smoldering bonfire. It seemed a bit strange to me, knowing that my “fate”- as fabricated as it was for that moment- all came down to whether or not I could jump over some hot coals correctly. Also, who is this guy that they paired me with? I’ve never met him before in my life. Couldn’t even tell you his name. I understand now that there was only so much our directors could teach us about Kupala without getting into more raucous territory. But in the moment, it felt disjointed. The ritual was incomplete. I didn’t feel like I did my part to deserve jumping over the fire with this boy I got paired up with.

Alas, up and over we went, hands held tight.

Later that night, we returned to our cabins to find a paper “fortune” on our pillows with a boy’s name on it. I remember mine said “Andrew.” I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the name of the kid who leapt over the flames with me. It’s a common name in the Ukrainian community.

===================================

Before I get into additional rituals, I want to address Kupala’s history in Eastern Europe. As I mentioned earlier, many Ukrainians call the holiday “Ivana Kupala.” Ukraine was Christianized back in the 10th century, and religious leaders took the ritualistic aspects of the region’s Pagan beliefs and superimposed Christian symbolism onto them. In the case of Kupala, the summer solstice fell around the same time as the feast of John the Baptist. John translates to Ivan in Ukrainian, and if you put two and two together… you’ve got a holiday that’s not frowned upon by the church anymore.

But you know who really wasn’t a fan of Kupala, or any kind of organized religious celebration? The Communists.

In the 1960’s, Kupala was reconstructed as an agricultural holiday in certain Ukrainian villages. Soviet socialists allowed some villages to celebrate the “non-religious” elements of the holiday as an ode to the workers of the village. In fact, publications at the time were encouraged to highlight Kupala’s detachment from any religious affiliation- specifically, the Christianized parts that got added later in history.

Beyond the Cold War, celebrations in Eastern Europe embrace the Christianized version of the holiday, but in more of a performative way than in a spiritual way. That’s where the blue-tarp rivers and dramatized drowning of Ivana Kupala come into play- at least, here in the American diaspora.

While we’re here, let’s talk about Maryna’s role in all this (other spellings include: Morena, Marena, or Marzanna). Some sources cite her as a goddess of the waters and winters, or just a representation of feminine energy in general. In some cases, her symbolic drowning in folklore represents the death of winter and the arrival of the fertile seasons (spring, summer).

Sacrificing effigies of both Maryna and Kupalo (or Ivan, for the modern era) to the waters or the flames is another common practice. Pagan custom requires sacrifices that benefit the community, not just themselves. It certainly makes more sense to offer an effigy sacrifice than a human one, but I can’t imagine ancient Slavs were actively choosing which of their own would find their fate within flames or floodwaters.

The festival extends late into the evening every July 6th. Ancient legend says that it’s the only night of the year that the fern flower, or “kvit paparoti,” blossoms. The flower is rumored to give its finder untold amounts of luck and prosperity. Before the biologists come after me, I do need to add a disclaimer here: ferns reproduce through spores, and physically cannot produce flowers. Does that stop Kupala revelers from taking their newfound partners deep into the woods to try and find it? Absolutely not!

If anything, it’s a good excuse to get to know your partner, uninterrupted.

====================

Special thanks to Adriana Helbig and Authentic Ukraine for the sources used to create this blog post. Give their articles a read if you’re interested in learning more about Kupala.