Advent begins: a new dawn
The Jesus the gospel writers center is an answer to the deepest of night. He points to the community forming around him and says, “This is God’s idea of rule, how God would distribute bread and fish, how God would want for our mutual healing, how God would make sense of the madness. And God would want us to partner with us in piecing the world back together again.”
I remember being in the presence of a Roman Catholic liturgical artist in St. Louis, Missouri, who made the most beautiful paraments, vestments, and stoles for churches, priests, and pastors. She clearly thought outside the box but also was deeply rooted in an ancient tradition. So I asked her, “If you had a dream for a church or a church leader to do something you’ve dreamed about doing, what would it be?” She sparkled at the question—like she had been waiting for it.
She began to explain to me how she believed Advent was one of our most meaningful liturgical seasons but how it was one of the least explored. She wanted to do something with the color because she had never heard a good explanation for why purple or blue (Blue was just coming into vogue as an Advent color to distinguish it from Lent.) were used for Advent candles.
Deep in the Scriptural and hymnody tradition of Advent, she explained, was the understanding that we were moving to a dawn we could not even see or imagine. So what her dream liturgical project would be had to do with progressive vestments that would begin with the colors of the deepest night and then adding colors each Sunday that would lead to the bright colors of the dawn on Christmas Eve/Christmas Day. She was giddy in explaining it to me.
That joyous explanation transferred to me. She was right. I could not find much of an explanation for why candles were purple or blue. Unlike many liturgical seasons, Advent did not have lengthy explanation for its liturgical tradition. And, as I’m sure you know by my children’s sermons, I think our liturgical tradition, its colors and meaning, is a powerful, countercultural discernment practice and tool for our lives.
As I began to notice the colors in the late autumn dawn or evening sky, I began to see what she was telling me. The spiritual cues were there. In the deepest part of the night one could see a dark purple, then there was another layer of deep or dark blue, then a Columbia or powder blue, and, finally, a rose to signal that the heavens were about to change. In each church I served, I changed the colors of the Advent candles to reflect those four colors. And as we lit each candle, I told the children to see God’s hand at work in the morning or night sky.
The journey with Advent begins with the deepest night, when there is not even a star in the sky. The Scriptural texts we have are filled with terror and trauma and fear. We are called to be faithful even when it is night, even when we cannot imagine a different world.
We live in a world where many have called out the hypocrisy at all levels of our highest institutions. Indeed, it can feel like everything is beginning to unravel as we see the truth that the great makers and builders did not always have the best intent. Authentic faith has historically done this forever calling for reformation and transformation in our personal, communal, national, and earthly lives together.
Others point out that hypocrisy and enjoy watching the world burn. Still others believe that that hypocrisy, feeling like they’ve been sold out or lied to for the first time, gives them the right to act with total freedom and a lack of concern for their neighbors and for God’s good earth. I know I struggle with that unraveling and my mental health loses grip on what is possible or what we can do. Sheez, Mike, you are clergy. Get it together. But I sometimes can’t. I feel like I am withering.
The gospels were written at a time, just after Jesus, that was full of trauma, violence, and fear. It was a time of night. Everything was unraveling. Can we imagine a dawn? Can we even think of it? The Jesus the gospel writers center is an answer to the deepest of night. He points to the community forming around him and says, “This is God’s idea of rule, how God would distribute bread and fish, how God would want for our mutual healing, how God would make sense of the madness. And God would want us to partner with us in piecing the world back together again.”
It is night. The world may be unraveling. As people of faith, we are called to piece the world back together again. As we do so with God, the dawn comes. God’s hand is at work.
Shalom,
Mike
