A Gaudete reflection
14/12/15 05:03
After Christianity became a recognized religion in Rome back in the third century, the church been to experience explosive rates of growth. It was during that time that the rite of confirmation first appeared. There weren’t enough bishops to be present at every baptism, so the bishop would confirm the baptisms during a yearly visit. In some rural locations, the visits were even less frequent. Preparation for baptism became an elaborate process within the church. Preparation involved fasting for the six weeks of Lent, with baptism taking place on Easter Sunday. During the fourth century rates of growth were so great that a second period of fasting was added each year to accommodate the new converts. This second period of fasting was set in the late fall and its observance became known as the season of Advent. Christmas celebrations weren’t very elaborate in those times and Epiphany was probably a larger feast.
These days, Advent has been shortened to four weeks and the emphasis on fasting is not common in western congregations. There are, however, parts of Advent that have their roots in those ancient church practices. One of those ancient traditions that survives to this day is Gaudete Sunday. In the Western Church, which includes the Roman Catholic Church, Anglican Communion, many Lutheran churches and other Mainline Protestant Churches, the third Sunday of Advent is a day set aside for celebration.
The name of the day comes from the Latin translation of Philippians 4:4: “Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I say rejoice! The first and last words of that phrase in Latin are Gaudete, (pronounced with three syllables: gow-day-tay). The day was originally a break from the fasting with a single feast day that gave renewed energy for the final weeks of preparation for baptism.
In the contemporary church, the emphasis on joy has become an important spiritual practice. In our busy and troubled world, holidays can be a deep challenge for many people. For those who are grieving a recent loss, the holidays can be especially difficult. The old mood of celebration is broken by the heaviness of grief. Formerly pleasant memories now bring a sense of loneliness with the loss of the loved one. Furthermore the deep sadness leaves those who experience it feeling even more isolated because the rest of the world appears to be celebrating when they do not feel like celebrating.
In the face of these realities, some congregations observe “Blue Christmas.” Blue Christmas celebrations are usually observed on or near December 21 in the northern hemisphere. They are also known as Longest Night services because of the date. These services allow for open grieving, praying and healing of participants. They serve as a reminder to those who are grieving that a they are not alone in their grief. Others share the pain of the season with them.
The celebration of Gaudete Sunday takes a different approach. With the coming of the Christ Child, Christians are challenged to find a joy that is deeper than surface happiness. It is not that grief and pain and loss are banished, but rather the faithful are encouraged to look below the surface for the deeper joy that exists even in the midst of those realities. There is joy in the midst of grief. There is cause for celebration in the midst of pain. There is a deeper truth than loss. Death is not the end.
The recognition of Gaudete Sunday takes the themes of Lent and Easter and transports them into another season. The bottom line is that for Christians death is not the end. The worth, dignity, creativity, beauty and joy of life cannot be conquered by death. Even though we all will one day die from this life, God’s gift of life has the final victory.
It may seem like a strange exhibit in the midst of preparation for incarnation - the coming of God in the form of a baby. But it is most appropriate. We experienced the blending of those two life realities very acutely the year that my father died. At the time of his death my wife was pregnant with our first child, a son who was born during those first six months of our grief. Eager expectation and powerful grief were combined in our living of those days and remain combined in our memories of those times.
We are rarely allowed the luxury of experiencing a single emotion. In our human lives, our emotions are most often mixed. Tears of joy mingle with tears of sadness. We feel deep loss and deep relief in the same breath. The practices of our faith acknowledge these mixed emotions and provide a structure for contemplation of the realities of our lives. By setting aside regular times for observing these blended aspects of our lives each year, we can experience a gradual deepening of our faith. Gaudete Sunday is more deeply meaningful to me now that I am in my sixties than it was when I was in my twenties. The repetition of the observance over the years has added depth on depth of memory and meaning.
In the church, these practices have been observed for centuries. The depth of meaning is so profound that each time we celebrate, we discover a new nuance of our story. There are different names, different associations, different practices that arise from different parts of the church. Our celebrations are no longer simple and direct. They carry differences depending on the location and the story of the congregation that is observing the practice. They demonstrate the wide diversity of the church.
The two celebrations in which I participated yesterday were vastly different. Our morning observance was filled with music, with four bell anthems, vocal numbers, and a special duet. We had organ and piano and wind chimes and flute. Our choir loft was filled with musicians. The afternoon gathering of The Well, a seekers’ church was much more subdued with quiet for contemplation and a couple of rounds of sharing by each participant in response to various questions posed by the presenter. Both celebrations were deeply meaningful to me.
We now enter the final stretch of Advent. Buoyed by the recognition of the joy that lies not only deeply within, but also ahead of us, we continue our journey. Indeed the time is growing close.
These days, Advent has been shortened to four weeks and the emphasis on fasting is not common in western congregations. There are, however, parts of Advent that have their roots in those ancient church practices. One of those ancient traditions that survives to this day is Gaudete Sunday. In the Western Church, which includes the Roman Catholic Church, Anglican Communion, many Lutheran churches and other Mainline Protestant Churches, the third Sunday of Advent is a day set aside for celebration.
The name of the day comes from the Latin translation of Philippians 4:4: “Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I say rejoice! The first and last words of that phrase in Latin are Gaudete, (pronounced with three syllables: gow-day-tay). The day was originally a break from the fasting with a single feast day that gave renewed energy for the final weeks of preparation for baptism.
In the contemporary church, the emphasis on joy has become an important spiritual practice. In our busy and troubled world, holidays can be a deep challenge for many people. For those who are grieving a recent loss, the holidays can be especially difficult. The old mood of celebration is broken by the heaviness of grief. Formerly pleasant memories now bring a sense of loneliness with the loss of the loved one. Furthermore the deep sadness leaves those who experience it feeling even more isolated because the rest of the world appears to be celebrating when they do not feel like celebrating.
In the face of these realities, some congregations observe “Blue Christmas.” Blue Christmas celebrations are usually observed on or near December 21 in the northern hemisphere. They are also known as Longest Night services because of the date. These services allow for open grieving, praying and healing of participants. They serve as a reminder to those who are grieving that a they are not alone in their grief. Others share the pain of the season with them.
The celebration of Gaudete Sunday takes a different approach. With the coming of the Christ Child, Christians are challenged to find a joy that is deeper than surface happiness. It is not that grief and pain and loss are banished, but rather the faithful are encouraged to look below the surface for the deeper joy that exists even in the midst of those realities. There is joy in the midst of grief. There is cause for celebration in the midst of pain. There is a deeper truth than loss. Death is not the end.
The recognition of Gaudete Sunday takes the themes of Lent and Easter and transports them into another season. The bottom line is that for Christians death is not the end. The worth, dignity, creativity, beauty and joy of life cannot be conquered by death. Even though we all will one day die from this life, God’s gift of life has the final victory.
It may seem like a strange exhibit in the midst of preparation for incarnation - the coming of God in the form of a baby. But it is most appropriate. We experienced the blending of those two life realities very acutely the year that my father died. At the time of his death my wife was pregnant with our first child, a son who was born during those first six months of our grief. Eager expectation and powerful grief were combined in our living of those days and remain combined in our memories of those times.
We are rarely allowed the luxury of experiencing a single emotion. In our human lives, our emotions are most often mixed. Tears of joy mingle with tears of sadness. We feel deep loss and deep relief in the same breath. The practices of our faith acknowledge these mixed emotions and provide a structure for contemplation of the realities of our lives. By setting aside regular times for observing these blended aspects of our lives each year, we can experience a gradual deepening of our faith. Gaudete Sunday is more deeply meaningful to me now that I am in my sixties than it was when I was in my twenties. The repetition of the observance over the years has added depth on depth of memory and meaning.
In the church, these practices have been observed for centuries. The depth of meaning is so profound that each time we celebrate, we discover a new nuance of our story. There are different names, different associations, different practices that arise from different parts of the church. Our celebrations are no longer simple and direct. They carry differences depending on the location and the story of the congregation that is observing the practice. They demonstrate the wide diversity of the church.
The two celebrations in which I participated yesterday were vastly different. Our morning observance was filled with music, with four bell anthems, vocal numbers, and a special duet. We had organ and piano and wind chimes and flute. Our choir loft was filled with musicians. The afternoon gathering of The Well, a seekers’ church was much more subdued with quiet for contemplation and a couple of rounds of sharing by each participant in response to various questions posed by the presenter. Both celebrations were deeply meaningful to me.
We now enter the final stretch of Advent. Buoyed by the recognition of the joy that lies not only deeply within, but also ahead of us, we continue our journey. Indeed the time is growing close.