Keeping the Season

"Perseids 2014" by Carlos Bueno, on Flickr

As much as well-meaning Christians have tried to convince me that I cannot love creation with anything close to the love with which I love God, I remain unconvinced. If I am allowed to love the water of baptism, the bread and wine of Communion, the oil of healing, and the wood of the cross, why am I not also allowed to love the heavenly moon?

If Christians look to creation for wisdom about the spiritual life, seeing resurrection in springtime, divine promise in a rainbow, or the flight of the Spirit in a dove, why don't we look to the moon for wisdom about our relationship with God? Sometimes the light is coming, and sometimes it is going. Sometimes the moon is full, and sometimes it is nowhere to be found. There is nothing capricious about this variety since it happens on a regular basis. Is it dark outside tonight? Fear not; it will not be dark forever. Is it bright out tonight? Enjoy it; it will not be bright forever.


-Barbara Brown Taylor in Learning to Walk in the Dark (p. 166, 171-172)

"Oriental moment {Explored!}" by Angie Nan, on Flickr

Mark 13:24-37
"But in those days, after that suffering,
the sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light,
and the stars will be falling from heaven,
and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

Then they will see 'the Son of Man coming in clouds' with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake — for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake."

"peace" by Olympia, on Flickr

John 20:19-22
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit."

"Winter Blues" by Todd Klassy, on Flickr

From a sermon for Advent 1 by Catherine A. Caimano entitled, "Why Advent is the hardest of times for faithful Christians:"

Our faith is about how Jesus Christ, born into this world as a small spot of light in the darkness, helps us to believe, and to live like we believe, that love and forgiveness and redemption and hope have a part in every choice that we make, in every regular day on our calendar.

And this sense of preparation, of not knowing when it is that we will most need to be ready, is not meant to scare us; it is meant to remind us that the kingdom of heaven is everywhere, even when we least expect it. And we need this reminder, because we all know that our regular life, despite our beliefs, often feels like it forces us to put on all kinds of other things: deadlines and debts and distractions and all sorts of dire circumstances that can lead us to live like the darkness is catching up to us.

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Advent preparation, then, although it is a solemn time, is really about going right through the darkness, rather than trying to circumvent it altogether. In order to cast it away, we need to get a really good grip on it; we need to strip off what would normally hide it, as counterproductive as this seems.

Because the true light, the true joy that we are getting ready for, is not something that we create or that we find; it is what comes to us when we are ready and waiting for it. To put on the armor of light is to rejoice that we have marched right into this darkness and found that we are not alone. We will not be left in our suffering; we will be met with hope and peace and love in the moments that we dare to take off the kinds of armor that the rest of the world seems to demand that we wear -- cynicism and defensiveness and isolation and fear.

"New Mexico" by Shellie @ Firefly Creek, on Flickr

"Space Bush" by Saad Alafaliq on flickr

"When you discover what you will be in your life, set out to do it as if God Almighty called you at this particular moment in history to do it. Don't just set out to do a good job. Set out to do such a good job that the living, the dead or the unborn couldn't do it any better.

If it falls your lot to be a street sweeper, sweep streets like Michelangelo painted pictures, sweep streets like Beethoven composed music, sweep streets like Leontyne Price sings before the Metropolitan Opera. Sweep streets like Shakespeare wrote poetry. Sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will have to pause and say: Here lived a great street sweeper who swept his job well. If you can't be a pine at the top of the hill, be a shrub in the valley. Be be the best little shrub on the side of the hill.

Be a bush if you can't be a tree. If you can't be a highway, just be a trail. If you can't be a sun, be a star. For it isn't by size that you win or fail. Be the best of whatever you are."

--Martin Luther King, Jr., from a 1967 address to students at Barratt Junior High School in Philadelphia entitled, "What is your Life's Blueprint?"

There are plenty of catchy songs out there that stick in your brain for hours and even days after you listen to them. Some of these songs are great and you are happy for them to run on repeat in your head. Others are horrible and you do everything in your power to will their words and melodies away.

One of the good songs that gets stuck in my head whenever I listen to it is a song called "Dark Blue" by Jack's Mannequin. In it, he sings:

Slow down...this night's a perfect shade of
Dark blue, dark blue
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room when I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning down
Dark blue dark blue
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room well I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning 'til there's nothing but dark blue...
Just dark blue

This song, I suppose, could be a theme song for the season of Advent. After all, the church dresses up in blue for Advent and we talk a lot about darkness and blueness and waiting.

Why blue, you might ask? Here is one answer to that question:

At seven o’clock on a Monday morning in early December, two young children take their place at the breakfast table. Heat rises from their bowls of oatmeal and cups of hot chocolate, teasing their still-sleepy eyes awake. The younger child looks upward and notices the view out a high window. The sky is an inky blue, a deep indigo, and the silhouette of a great tree in the cuts across the almost emerging dawn as a rough black stripe. “Mom,” he says, suddenly alert, “look at the sky. It’s the same color as the Advent candles!”

In Advent, we turn our eyes upward. The smoky blue threshold of night that blankets North America during these weeks can feel oppressive, so that emotionally we may feel “blue.” But this vast celestial canopy can also inspire awe. Advent blue marks this tension between our own smallness, our sleepiness, our vulnerable place in the cosmos and the way the heavenly promise of redemption stirs and quickens us. As the scriptures urge us to “keep awake,” we respond with vigilance.

excerpted from “Environment and Art for the Season [of Advent],” Sundays and Seasons 2002, Year A, (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 2001), p. 25. (ht: Clayfire Curator blog)

Here is another answer:

But still, why not red? Everyone else is using red, including most churches. Red is our culture’s go-to color. Red symbolizes heat, fire, blood, passion, love, warmth, power, excitement and aggression. Researchers say it can elevate blood pressure and respiratory rates. It has the effect of stimulating people to make quick decisions and increase expectations. Red is an attention grabber. Words and objects in red capture people ‘s attention immediately. Red is an emotionally intense and very extreme color.

Blue, by contrast, is more complicated, the experts say. Blue represents solitude, sadness, and depression–Blue Monday–but it also signifies wisdom, trust and loyalty. Wearing blue to job interviews, they say, indicates dedication and loyalty. Blue relaxes our nervous system, while red excites it. Blue has a sobering effect on the mind and can cause people to be more contemplative, which is the opposite of our reaction to red. Peaceful, tranquil blue, is a good color for bedrooms, causing the body to produce calming chemicals. Darker shades of blue, however, can feel cold and depressing.

So, what is the Church trying to tell us by using the color blue–lighter shades of blue, to be sure–during the Season of Advent? In a word, hope! In two words: divine hope!

At the outset of the Advent season, the church “hopes for more than we have yet seen.” Think about this. There is a profound difference in the message we have to deliver in this season of the year, versus the predominant message of our culture. To be sure, both church and culture look to the coming of Christmas and say, Jesus has come! But only the Church looks to this annual celebration and says, Christ will come again! To deliver this startling message, we need all the resources we can command–both sight and sound.

Sid Burgess, excerpted from “Blue vs. Red,” a sermon for the 1st Sunday of Advent, December 1, 2002, Edgewood Presbyterian Church, Birmingham, AL. (ht: Clayfire Curator blog)

Here is wishing you a dark blue Advent, full of days where you slow down, where you feel alone in crowded rooms, where the world is the perfect shade of dark blue for you to hope for far more than you have yet seen.

Matthew 1:18-25
Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins." All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: "Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means, "God is with us." When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.
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O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.

O come, Thou Day-spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.

O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.

O come, O come, great Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes on Sinai’s height
In ancient times once gave the law
In cloud and majesty and awe.

Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.