“It’s rose, not pink. Jesus rose from the grave, he didn’t pink from it.” I once heard a Priest say that in an exasperated tone to someone teasing him yet again about his “pink robes.” Rose. Why rose? Why in the middle of the Advent season with its purple banners and vestments, did the church choose to use such a different color than any other day of the year? I think it helps first to look a little at the history of Advent because we seem to have made it into a season of pure joy, and that wasn’t how it was seen in the past.
In the history of the Church Advent was much more like Lent. In fact, when we first began to observe it, it was 40 days long beginning in early November, on the Feast of Saint Martin (November 11th). It wasn’t called Advent yet, it was called Saint Martin’s Lent, and just like Lent, it was a season of Penitence and fasting that led up to Christmas. Like Lent, Catholics were expected to pray, fast, and give alms. It had more of the character of the “the desert and the parched land” that Isaiah spoke of in the first reading. They were encouraged to go to confession and spend time doing extra prayers to prepare their hearts for the coming of Jesus. We have lost that sense a little in our modern society. We no longer tend to observe the Friday fast from meat, nor do we tend to particularly see the weeks leading up to Christmas as a time of somber introspection.
Now, when we see it from that point of view, the introduction to Mass today begins with “Gaudete” or “rejoice.” Remember we haven’t decorated the Church yet for Christmas, because we are reliving that period of time that the Israelites were waiting for the Messiah. A period of hope, but also of returning to God’s covenant. So, like Lent, the Advent of the past didn’t have the organ playing, nor did they allow flowers in the Church. On Gaudete Sunday though they brought in both! As the Priest began Mass the organ played, the scent of flowers wafted into the air, the sites and sounds of the Church came alive to remind people of that simple statement:
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice. Let your forbearance be known to all, for the Lord is near at hand; have no anxiety about anything, but in all things, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God. Lord, you have blessed your land; you have turned away the captivity of Jacob.”
That’s what the rose colors of the vestments are supposed to remind us, that even in the time when all seems bleak and dire, Jesus is still in control. That’s hard to remember during times of darkness. As a community, we have been rocked by the death of three people dear to our family, and it’s hard to see any sort of light when you lose someone so close to you. Platitudes and reassurances seem to ring hollow when we are grieving. I think the important part to remember when we have been plowed by the harrows of distress, that one can be joyful (even hopefull) and still shed tears. That one can have hope in the resurrection of their loved ones to the Kingdom of Heaven, even in the direst of circumstances. Being sad doesn’t mean you aren’t also joyful. Jesus himself wept, and when we shed tears he is there with us in our humanity.
We focus sometimes on the “have no anxiety about anything” and forget that it also says “let your requests be known to God.” When you see the rose vestments, the flowers in the Church, the season that is going on around you… it’s not supposed to be a challenge to say you can’t mourn, or that if your childhood was difficult you must be extroverted and jovial all the time. It instead is a reminder that Jesus rose, and we have hope that we and our loved ones will too.
Saint Augustin once said: “Because God has made us for Himself, our hearts are restless until they rest in Him.” That to me is the message of hope that this day brings to us, to our community, and to our loved ones who have lost someone dear to them. That we and those who have gone on before us are the seeds in the field. They have been planted in death, but we hope to see them rise again as the joy-filled flowers of our resurrected bodies in the life to come. God is the farmer that James reminds us in his letter is waiting patiently, coaxing and gently trying to bring life out of the ground. He has sent forth His Word, Our Lord Jesus Christ, and He has reminded us that His word is effective and will not return without accomplishing what it set out to do. With that in mind we pray:
Eternal rest grant to them, O Lord; and let light perpetual shine upon them. May their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.