One of the perennial discussions that comes up at this time of year is a discussion of the liturgical color of Advent – should we don the traditional purple or move to using (what some term Sarum) blue. There have also been the seemingly requisite complaints that such a discussion is a waste of time and steers us away from more pressing concerns.
I have always thought that liturgical churches and particularly those with a robust Sacramental life do a disservice when they avoid discussion of those external markers of parish identity. The forms and manner with which we engage in worship necessitate a considered and well-thought-out approach to each aspect of our worship life. A robust life of worship and adoration is one in which gestures, movements, colors, hymns, and more each have a defined part of the whole fabric of common life.
It is easy to make an idol of such things – I have watched with a mix of amusement and horror as discussions of where and when a sub-deacon holds the paten during mass went into a toxic overdrive. Yet, to not have some understanding of the form and function of varying aspects of liturgy creates a scenario in which a group of people gathers with only a vague sense as to why they are gathered at all.
Worship is first and foremost worship – it is the lovingly rendered adoration of God. Worship that is attentive with out being pendantically punctilious gives space for all to enter the space with both a sense of their first purpose for being together as well as the grace to focus on the essentials when things seem to go wrong. It is often when things go “wrong” that the character of a worshiping community is revealed. Are people gentle with each other when mistakes are made? Can the congregation see the error yet not be distracted from their focus on God?
This grace comes with practice – great musicians can “go with the flow” when they have made patient study of source material and have practiced again and again.
When we study and seek to understand the forms of the rite we are better able to understand the deeper teachings of the shape of the liturgy. In a tradition in which we believe external things (bread, wine, and water) communicate essential deeper truth we are bound to the study of the externals of our common life. While a discussion of color might go deeply awry when its primary concern is the attractiveness or lack thereof of the choices that same discussion might become profound when its focus is on the deeper revelation of the choice.
Might a discussion of purple or blue for Lent not rest so much on what an individual or a congregation likes but on what the deeper meaning of Advent is? Could a congregation benefit from a discussion of the themes of repentance that purple might communicate with its obvious connection to Lent? Could the same congregation be enriched by a focus on the Marian themes of Advent (and the frequent use of blue for Marian feasts)?
So much in parish life is not so much about the conversations themselves but about the way in which we engage the conversations. In a tradition that spans broad, low, and high (whatever those might mean nowadays) practice and theology there is enormous value in establishing and understanding those elements of our common practice (or where we diverge). These external markers help shape and mold parish identity and congregational ethos. They also mark in particular ways both the shifting of the Church year and those things which are so essential that they never change.
This year, our interim dean, Fr Patrick Malloy has been leading a parish-wide discussion on Sunday mornings about liturgy, tradition, and Sacramental theology. The parish hall is jammed with people every Sunday who are yearning to learn more about the tradition and our Anglican identity within the Catholic spectrum. They are coming for discussions that range from the biggest of big pictures (what is a ritual) to the most focused of topics (why do we chant).
This focused attention on the externals of our common life has given people a deeper insight into the core mysteries of our faith. For example, a discussion of the use of the lavabo leads to a discussion about the connection between our ritual and the temple rituals of the Jewish people. This leads to a discussion about the Jewish elements of our faith more broadly and those things which we find in our faith that are direct inheritances from Judaism.
A discussion of the commixture and the placing of the fermentum in the chalice after the consecrations leads to a discussion of the nature of bishops and the connection of each celebration of the Eucharist to another – and to a discussion of the role of a Cathedral in the Sacramental life of the diocese.
Patient attention to our rites is a rich engagement with the mysteries of our faith as we find points at which we can more deeply enter the respective ways in which Christ continues to offer himself for us and is present with us. This is an ongoing process of deepening our engagement with the worship of the ages – with those who have come before and to whom the Holy Spirit gave inspiration. We enter the realm of holy mystery and immerse ourselves in the seemingly superficial so that new insight might be found at a deeper level.
The trappings – the décor – can be a distraction if we see them only with the superficial eyes of the faithless. Faithful people are trained to see more at the heart of everything. This is a sacramental imagination that finds divine promise ready to come forth from the most common of moments. Meaning-making happens at a number of levels and a well-executed liturgy can be like a dance or any other work of art in which something of the Creator is revealed in the lovingly crafted work.
This kind of revelation does not happen by happenstance – though some may come and be transfixed by unfolding beauty. There is a kind of deeper learning that happens though when we have taken the time to investigate and dwell in the mysteries to which we are heirs so that we find fresh life in the well-worn habits of the heart.
Perhaps we do lose focus when we get caught up in endless discussions of superficial markers of our common life – yet when approached with grace and joyful reverence we might find ourselves taken anew with the passion of a God who reveals himself in the mundane and the routine.
Robert
A Desert Father 
Fr Robert, thank you so much for a deeply insightful and challenging consideration of much more than a colour preference in liturgy. I have taken the liberty of sending your comments to others in my circle who are also interested in the living worship and liturgy and its meaning in the lives of the faithful.
For what it is worth, Advent 2015 marked the move by The Anglican Community of Our Lady of Advent (Sydney, Australia) from the more traditional purple of Advent to a dark, midnight blue, commissioning a local vestment maker to make a frontal, hangings, vestments etc. in a deep blue brocade and with midnight blue and silver orphreys, with a stylized southern cross (the predominant constellation here in the southern hemisphere) in metallic silver .
As I explained at the time to our Community, purple was the most costly dye in ancient times and was therefore used by kings to indicate their royal status. Purple also signifies the repentance of God’s people as they patiently await the arrival of their Lord. Blue on the other hand represents hope, expectation, and heaven, as well as its association with the Blessed Virgin Mary in art and iconography.
Deep blue is the colour of the clear, predawn sky, the colour that covers the earth in the hours before the sun rises in the east: a hint of expectation and anticipation of the dawn of Christ. Penitence and spiritual discipline are part of the traditional Advent observance, and this is why we use the Advent wreath and devotionals such as the ‘O Antiphons’ to mark the days of Advent.
Advent is a time to recommit to our faith and to our God – no matter the colour. By using deep blue we emphasize the church’s hope-filled and faithful watch for Christ. The deep blue of Advent is meant to inspire in us the hope of faith, and to encourage us to keep watch for the promised light of Christ to break over the horizon, changing night into day, darkness into light, and filling our lives and our world with a holy and righteous splendour.
May all of us find this season to be shaded by both the purple and the blue, by the reflective self-examination suggested by the penitential purple, and by the hopeful anticipation suggested by the predawn blue … for both colours call us to lives of faithfulness in this time before the coming of our Lord.
Fr Thomas
Communities’ Minister and Leader,
The Anglican Communities of Our Lady
The recent commemoration of Nicholas Ferrar is making me see Little Gidding everywhere, including your heptameter “Though some may come and be transfixed by unfolding beauty.”:
“What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from. And every phrase
And sentence that is right (where every word is at home,
Taking its place to support the others,
The word neither diffident nor ostentatious,
An easy commerce of the old and the new,
The common word exact without vulgarity,
The formal word precise but not pedantic,
The complete consort dancing together)
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,
Every poem an epitaph. And any action
Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea’s throat
Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:
See, they depart, and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.
The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration. A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails
On a winter’s afternoon, in a secluded chapel
History is now and England.
With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this Calling”
Father Robert,
During the time that you have been our Sub-Dean, we have greatly enjoyed your sermons, you as celebrant, and your presence as our companion and priest. To your post, I would like to add that the trappings of liturgy, vestments and music, surroundings and presentation, can be equal to the liturgy itself in bringing congregations closer to God. Truth and Love and the Spirit from which these things come perhaps open more easily when the heart is touched by Grace all around.
Melanie Rodden
Lector