Is the Traditional 'Flavour' of Your Lunar New Year Still Here?

We often lament that Chinese New Year seems to be losing its traditional 'flavour'. The customs that once felt so ritualistic are slowly being replaced by mobile red packets and group chat blessings.

What we're truly yearning for, perhaps, isn't just tradition itself, but a deeper connection to our culture.

Today, I want to have a yarn with you about Christmas in Russia. Their story is like rediscovering a long-lost 'family secret recipe book', and it might just offer us some intriguing insights.

A Long Time Ago, That Recipe Book Full of 'Magic'

Imagine your family owns a recipe book, passed down through generations, not filled with everyday dishes, but with festive secrets brimming with magical rituals.

In ancient Russia, Christmas was precisely that kind of book.

On Christmas Eve, the first thing every household would do wasn't to decorate a Christmas tree. Instead, they'd use juniper branches to wipe down ceilings, walls, and floors for a proper spring clean. After that, the whole family would head to the steam bath, washing away the year's dust and grime.

As night fell, the real 'magic' began. Children would craft a large star from paper and wood, carrying it as they went door-to-door singing, praising the homeowners. In return, generous homeowners would offer lollies, cakes, and loose change – like a warm treasure hunt.

Before the first star appeared in the sky, everyone would fast. Elders would recount stories to the children about the wise men following the star to bring gifts to the newborn Jesus. People believed that Christmas Eve water held healing powers; they'd use 'holy water' to wash, and even knead it into dough to bake pies that symbolised blessings.

Every page in this 'recipe book' was brimming with reverence, imagination, and the most unadorned human connections.

The Recipe Book Lost for 70 Years

Now, imagine this magical recipe book suddenly being slammed shut and locked away in a cupboard, for over 70 years.

During the Soviet era, Christmas was banned. Those intricate, poetic traditions, like forgotten spells, gradually faded into silence. A whole generation grew up having never personally turned the pages of that 'recipe book', only able to piece together its hazy outline from the fragmented memories of their elders.

A deep chasm appeared in the cultural inheritance.

Crafting New Flavours from Memory

Now, the cupboard has been reopened, but time, of course, can't be turned back.

Today's Russians celebrate their Christmas on January 7th. It's more like an extension of the New Year holiday – a big family bash. People gather, enjoy delicious food, clink glasses and make wishes under beautifully decorated Christmas trees. It's certainly warm and joyful, but the 'flavour' has undeniably changed from what it once was.

It's like that lost recipe book, where later generations can only attempt to recreate it from vague memories and their own interpretations. They've kept 'family reunion' as the main course, but added plenty of modern 'seasonings'. The result is good, but there's always a lingering sense that something's not quite right.

Rediscovering the Recipe Without Losing the Present

Here's where it gets really interesting.

Now, Russians are diligently working to 'rediscover' that ancient recipe. They're slowly but surely reviving those forgotten traditions. This isn't about outright rejecting the present; instead, it's like a master chef carefully unearthing the most unique 'spices' from an old recipe, to add richer layers to today's modern dishes.

They haven't thrown out the joy of family parties, but they've also started retelling those ancient stories. They still enjoy modern conveniences, but they're also beginning to recreate those ritualistic customs.

This process is giving their Christmas a depth it hasn't had in a long time. It now carries both the gravitas of history and the warmth of the present moment.

True Tradition: It's Alive

The Russian story teaches us a simple truth: culture isn't some antique displayed in a museum; it possesses a vibrant, living essence. It can be hurt, it can fracture, but it can also heal and sprout new branches.

We don't need to get too worked up about the 'flavour' of Lunar New Year fading. Perhaps what we need isn't to rigidly replicate the past, but like Russians today, bravely open that 'old recipe book', drawing wisdom and inspiration from its pages, and then, in our own unique way, create a distinct 'new flavour' for this modern era.

True cultural inheritance isn't about unchanging repetition, but about nurturing it with understanding and affection, allowing it to continue growing in our hands.

If you're curious about these stories that transcend time and space, and you'd like to hear firsthand from a friend in Moscow about how their family blends old and new traditions to celebrate the holidays, language certainly shouldn't be a barrier.

Tools like Lingogram, with their built-in AI translation, can enable seamless communication with people anywhere in the world. A simple chat might just allow you to feel the pulse of another culture, and appreciate the preciousness of something lost and then found again.