Larks and Lizards
This story is both ancient and modern! In the land of Sebaste around 320, forty Cappadocian soldiers were killed for their faith in Christ. Many Eastern European cultures still celebrate the memory of the soldiers' miraculous martyrdom. These traditions even made their way to a small group of monks living in the wilderness of Northern California in the 1970's.
With his head resting against the window, Ivan watched the pine trees whir by as he and his godmother went up and down and around and around the winding highway from San Francisco into the mountains.
He already missed his big brother, away at college, and now he was cut off from his middle school buddies for the weekend.
He frowned. In fact, he decided it would be impossible for him to smile today.
A cheerful voice attacked him from the front seat. “I’m glad you get to spend the weekend with me for the Holy Forty Martyrs of Sebaste! I’ve been wanting to take you to Platina.”
Ivan held in a sigh.
As they slowed to a crawl around a huge curve, he stared at the large gray rocks and pale green shrubbery lining the side of the mountain. Several lizards lounged in the shade of the rocks.
The car turned from the highway onto a narrow, rough mountain road. The pine trees looked like they might lean over and devour them on the way up.
The whole place looked wild.
“At least we get to eat my famous lark buns!”
Ivan closed his eyes. His godmother was not going to give up.
Her cheerful voice became firm. “Either you tell me why I make the lark buns or you can listen to me tell you the story.”
He sighed in submission. This was his godmother after all. Even though she smelled like ginger and incense, and baked endless pastries for him and his friends, she was also tougher than any man or woman he had ever met.
Ivan liked that about her.
He still slumped in his seat, but he spoke up so she could hear him. “The Forty Martyrs were ordered into a freezing lake for torture. Back on the shore, the soldiers made a steaming warm bath house. All they had to do was deny Christ and they could escape the freezing water and get warm. One did. When the martyrs were ready to go to heaven, forty crowns flew down from heaven to land on their heads. A soldier, seeing the miracle, believed and took the place of the man who went to the warm bath. So he got the extra crown.”
“Good start. And, what else?”
He glanced at the platter resting on the seat next to him. “And we remember them by making forty Zhavoronki. Forty lark-shaped buns, because larks are the first birds to appear in Spring and this feast is the first big feast during the Lenten Spring.” He had tried to sound positive, but his voice was definitely fading.
At a bend in the road, his godmother stopped and turned to face him with one eyebrow raised. “You don’t sound very excited to eat my lark buns, Vanishka.”
“I’m sorry, Titka. It’s just…” He was staring through the window at the ground to his right. Two lizards were crawling out from under a huge stone.
“Just what?”
“We could’ve eaten them back in the city. Besides…” One huge lizard sat majestically on top of the stone, sunning himself as his throat expanded like a red balloon with each breath. Ivan turned his eyes towards his godmother. “You and my mom might have seen larks back in Ukraine, but this is California, and I’ve never even seen a lark.”
She turned back around and started driving again. “It’s true. It’s true.” She made a little noise that sounded like a high-pitched hmmph. “But what could we bake instead?”
***
Later that morning, Ivan stood in the little wooden monastery chapel for Divine Liturgy, where the smell of the pine forest and the incense mingled together. While listening to a long hymn, his eyes drifted to a lizard sitting on the windowsill.
There are plenty of lizards in Platina!
After the service, the pilgrims gathered around the picnic tables outside, waiting for the food. Sitting at a table, leaning his head in his hand, Ivan watched the path from the kitchen. Finally, the smiling abbot appeared, lugging a huge pot of soup. Behind him, a young novice balanced a whole armful of bread loaves.
Where was that third monk? Ivan looked around but couldn’t see the tall, quiet man with the long, wild, gray and black streaked beard. He heard his voice before he saw him.
“One more thing for the table!” Fr. Seraphim’s soft voice sounded mischievous. It reminded him of his older brother.
Ivan looked around just in time to see the monk carrying in a huge platter of sugar cookies.
With laughter in his eyes, Fr. Seraphim set his masterpiece on the long table. His quiet voice carried over the little crowd, “This is how we celebrate the Holy Forty Martyrs of Sebaste in Platina! There’s only one animal that shows up every Spring en masse around here.”
Ivan stepped up to the table to get a better look. The cookies were shaped like lizards.
Fr. Seraphim winked at him.
Ivan's face spread into a wide smile.
Fr. Seraphim Rose of Platina
Lagniappe
I first read about the lizard cookies in the massive but fascinating tome, Father Seraphim Rose: His Life and Works. His monastery really did serve both lark buns and lizard cookies, with the desire of pleasing the children :)
If you would like to make lark buns next Spring, or even just want to see what on earth they look like, here is a lovely photo and recipe from a Russian convent.