Prepare the Way: Penitence in Advent

Perhaps the largest point of contention for the Great Blue/Purple Debate is the function of Advent. Is it a time of preparation or of hope?

I addressed this briefly in my post on Monday, but allow me to build on what I said.

If we consider the texts assigned in the RCL and the preceding lectionaries, we see a decided emphasis on penitence as part of preparation. Yes, Isaiah has a good deal to say about hope and renewal, but John the Baptist is there, too, calling us to repentance.

Furthermore, the origins of Advent -- shrouded in the fog of historical distance though they are -- hint at penitential origins. From Bishop J. Neil Alexander's entry on Advent in The New Westminster Dictionary of Liturgy and Worship:

Fifth- and sixth-century evidence shows a variety of penitential observances in Gaul and Spain lasting as many as six weeks. Some have sought the origin of Advent in the practice of Epiphany baptism by noting parallels to the shape of Lent. Others have called attention to sixth-century synodical documents and episcopal decrees that enjoin the faithful to penitence from the feast of Martin of Tours to the feast of Epiphany. Still others have taken note of the fast of the tenth month of pagan Rome and suggest that Advent may have begun as a response of the church in the continuing memory of the pagan winter fast.

Missing from Bp. Alexander's account is the parallel of the long season of fasting that leads to the Orthodox celebration of the Nativity. The good bishop goes on to remind us that there is no consensus concerning the origins of Advent. Still, their does appear to be unity among the theories -- and our Orthodox kindred's analogous fast -- of a penitential Advent.

Paul Strodach sums up the role of Advent -- and Lent -- beautifully in his brief explanation of the color:

Violet, the color of royal mourning, is scheduled for periods of preparation and penitence.

To reiterate my conclusion from Monday, I am less concerned about the color than the function behind it. Wear blue if you want. But please -- PLEASE -- do not neglect the dual function of both penitence and hope as we prepare for the Advent of our Lord.

Black, Violet, and Blue

Pope Cope

In digging around some of my liturgical textbooks, I came across Martin Dudley's entry on liturgical colors in The New Westminster Dictionary of Liturgy and Worship (which, in my humble opinion, should be a required text for anyone involved in liturgical planning). He remarks on the connection between blue, violet, and black vestments:

Black, violet, and blue seem to be interchangeable in the medieval palette, and black was used in Jerusalem in Advent and on Christmas Eve instead of violet and was also assigned to feasts of the Blessed Virgin Mary. This is perhaps part of the development of blue as Mary's colour, as found in Cologne.

Those who argue for certain Marian overtones -- or at least a connection between the colors of Advent and Marian feasts -- do have some room to argue from Tradition, my own misgivings notwithstanding.

Later in the entry, Dudley points to differences between purple: purpureus indicates the "red-purple" and violaceus a "blue-purple." Such distinction does survive today in the General Instruction of the Roman Missal, if memory serves.

Which brings me to a point of minutiae: I tend to call the liturgical color "purple," but properly it is called "violet." From Pfatteicher's Commentary on the Lutheran Book of Worship:

The drafters of the Commons Service Book  and the Service Book and Hymnal knew the tradition out of which they came and so specified "violet" as the proper color for Advent and Lent, translating  violaceus of the Roman rubrics. The name, in Latin and in English, was intended to describe a blue-purple. The editors of the Lutheran Book of Worship, bowing to prevailing popular practiced, used "purple" to describe the color rather than "violet," but the book encourages the use of blue, listing it first.

Light the Paschal Candle and Wear White: Funerals, Resurrection, and the "Little Easter"

I have done a poor job, in the past, of explaining the use of liturgically seasonal appointments at various seasons of the Church.

Take, for instance, the use of white vestments at a funeral. My immediate answer, in the past, has been that funerals build on the symbolism of Easter -- which is not specific enough.

As many are quick to point out, every Sunday is a "little Easter," so why don't we wear white every Sunday?

So allow me to be more specific:

Every Sunday is in fact a little Easter, the day on which the Church gathers to celebrate Christ's victory over Death and the grave. For this reason, we break our Lenten fast on Sundays. But various Sundays carry different themes -- be it the fire of the Holy Spirit, the blood of the martyrs, penitence, or God's victorious reign. The color of the vestments aids in communicating these themes -- which is exactly why liturgy nerds have drawn-out debates over the use of purple or blue vestments and paraments during Advent.

In the Church, we use white and gold to express Christ's triumphant glory on major feast days -- at the Incarnation, the Baptism of Our Lord, the Transfiguration, and throughout the entire fifty days of Easter.

At funerals, we hope in the Resurrection -- the ultimate display of God's glory -- and so we use white vestments. Even during Lent, when the Church dawns a penitential purple, puts a hold on weddings and baptisms, and fasts for forty days, we still don white for funerals. The hope of the Resurrection bursts through the Lenten season.

It's the same reason that we light the Paschal Candle at funerals and during the Sacrament of Holy Baptism. And, much like the Paschal Candle, some may reply by asking, "Well, if the theme is Resurrection, why not wear white every Sunday? Isn't every Sunday a little Easter?" In response, I refer you to my summary of Bp. Alexander's discussion of this point (found in full here):

[W]hile every Sunday is a "little Easter" and that the theology of the Resurrection permeates every Divine Service throughout the year regardless of seasonal and thematic overtones, that we still mark Easter proper with special distinction -- pre-Paschal fasting during Lent, the Triduum, the Vigil, extra acclamations, and the like. These distinctives set Easter apart as a sacred time among sacred times. Some of these markers (in this case, the Paschal candle) carries further into the rest of the year.

Just so, wearing white and gold vestments is one of those special distinctions that grabs the attention. It sets apart holy seasons, and to be sure, as we bury departed saints, we call special attention to Our Lord's triumph over the grave. Our funeral services point to Easter even more so than a weekly Service during ordinary time.

Now, of course, all of this can be chocked up to adiaphora. God isn't going to refuse the faithful departed entry into paradise if the altar frontal is green. St. Peter isn't watching through a telescope to ensure that the presbyter is wearing a white and gold stole. But let's not forget that the words we use, the symbols we adopt, the colors we wear do actually communicate something. So while white vestments are in fact non-essential, that does not make them unimportant.