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Pastoral Pondering:
Advent -- a time of preparation for the coming of the savior |
The word “advent” infuses my memories of early childhood faith.
It is the time when the altars were covered in purple and a spirit of excited expectation
was in our hearts. Let me explain a bit more for the non-liturgical folk.
In churches like the one in which I grew up, each year is divided into
seasons. One of these seasons is the Advent: the four Sundays before Christmas. During
this time we prepare our hearts to celebrate the birth of Christ.
With each week the excitement grows until the late night Christmas Eve
service where we, with twinkling candles and trembling hymns, celebrate “Christ is
born in Bethlehem.”
The season of preparation did not end as we walked out of the church doors.
One thing that helped us keep our sense of preparation, excitement and anticipation was
the Advent wreath.
I have many memories of Advent wreaths. It seems like our church began the
tradition when I was a small child, but that is probably not right. Most likely, the
tradition existed before I came along.
I suppose my mistake may be excused. After all, it was my Grandpa who cut out
all those wooden candle holders in his dusty basement in preparation for the
intergenerational gathering where we learned about the wreaths.
During this gathering I learned that each candle stands for something. The
first three candles are purple, like the seasons’ altar coverings. One purple candle
stands for hope, one for peace and one for love. The fourth candle is pink and stands for
joy.
The final candle is the Christ candle. It is white. It waits to be lit until
Christmas or Christmas eve. At the time of the white candle’s lighting, the altar is
changed from purple to white.
Each Sunday at dinner, Dad would light the candle and read a verse out of a
little book we got from the church. The meal seemed sacred on those nights.
In a time when we were bombarded with Santa, Rudolph and PayLess, this was
some powerful symbolism for us. It helped us remember the real reason why we were
celebrating.
Sure, we fought over who got to blow out the candles, and the whole thing
began to seem like a chore once we were in junior high. It’s true sometimes the
solemnness of the occasion was lessened, like when my math teacher would nearly light the
greenery of the large church wreath on fire.
He did it almost every year as if it were a part of the liturgical calendar.
Fortunately we never needed to call 9-1-1.
Those memories are part of it all, but when I think about Advent wreaths now
I have a little smile. It brings back memories of the scent of pine and candle wax. It
brings back memories of a family joined together in expectation.
Mary and Joseph are going to Bethlehem. The Baby Jesus is on his way.
Rejoice.
Colby Spell attends North Valley Friends Church. |
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From Dec. 13,
2003, Newberg Graphic
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