Advent 2013: Resisting Idolatry, Choosing Christ

2011, 2012 027This year our church is moving through a number of texts in Isaiah during Advent and on Christmas Eve. The readings below take the traditional themes of Advent (hope, love, joy, peace) and unpack them in an effort to determine where we place our trust. Isaiah deals with themes of idolatry and re-alignment with God through the actions of a Suffering Servant. I’ve counterpointed those themes with a repeated congregational reading of part of Mary’s song in Luke 1, which is a prophetic proclamation of the work that Christ has come to do – the work of a Suffering Servant.
 
(Texts used: Luke 1:46-55; Isaiah 1:2-3; 2:2-5; 40:1-11; 11:1-16. Dark print to be read by the congregation.)

WEEK 1: Tenacious Hope

My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.

We have a tenacious hope. A thin cry in the darkness that somehow, slowly, inevitably, pushes away the darkness and reveals the light. What can overcome the weight of sin in the world? What can overcome our idolatry? What can overcome war, and hunger, and murder, and rage, and the sorrow of a world bowed under—lost in darkness? What is big enough? What is strong enough to beat back the darkness?

The answer, it seems, is a baby. The weakest and most vulnerable humanity. Not even from a powerful family. Destitute. Poor. Fragile. A fragile hope. But a hope that acknowledges a God that goes beyond our expectations. Stepping down into the world he created. Choosing to live with those who have rejected him. Extending hope where there appears to be none.

Let us turn away from the false hope offered by our own power and wisdom and place our hope in Jesus Christ.

He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,  for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.  From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is his name.

We light this first candle of Advent as a sign of our tenacious hope.

PRAYER: Hope of Israel, as we walk through the darkness and difficulty of this world, would you help us to fix our eyes on you—to know that your work is not finished. Please teach us not to hope in ourselves. May we look instead to you, our hope. Knowing that you continue to work your hope steadily into this world. Knowing that, at your coming, all war and oppression and sorrow will cease. That the darkness that feeds on this world cannot withstand the coming of the light. Come, Lord Jesus, Come. Amen.

WEEK 2: Steadfast Love

My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.

We have a steadfast love. A love that follows and pursues us even when we would push it away. What can overcome the weight of sin in the world? What can overcome our idolatry? What can overcome war, and hunger, and murder, and rage, and the sorrow of a world bowed under—lost in darkness? What is big enough? What is strong enough to beat back the darkness?

The answer, it seems, is a baby. The weakest and most vulnerable humanity. This small, crying one, as we move to comfort him, turns instead to comfort us. For in his weakness, Christ brings us strength. Killed by hate, he lives to extend his love to us. A steadfast love: not dependent on the circumstances in which we find ourselves; not dependent on our actions or our words; not dependent on how well we perform. The love of a God who goes beyond our expectations. Stepping down into the world he created. Choosing to love those who have rejected him. Extending love where there appears to be none.

Let us turn away from the love of our own power and wisdom and accept the steadfast love of Jesus Christ.

He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,  for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is his name.

We light this second candle of Advent as a sign of our steadfast love.

PRAYER: Love of Israel, as we walk through the darkness and difficulty of this world, would you help us to know you—to know that you love us. Please teach us to love beyond ourselves. May we look to you, the one who loves us with a steadfast love. Knowing that you continue to work your love steadily into this world. Knowing that, at your coming, all war and oppression and sorrow will cease. That the darkness that feeds on this world cannot withstand the coming of the light. Come, Lord Jesus, Come. Amen.

WEEK 3: Persevering Joy

My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.

We have a persevering joy. A joy that moves through suffering and sustains us, even when we think we cannot continue. What can overcome the weight of sin in the world? What can overcome our idolatry? What can overcome war, and hunger, and murder, and rage, and the sorrow of a world bowed under—lost in darkness? What is big enough? What is strong enough to beat back the darkness?

The answer, it seems, is a baby. The weakest and most vulnerable humanity. And it is this child that brings joy even to those in darkness. For it is a persevering joy born neither in circumstance, nor in the things we buy, nor in the triumphs we celebrate, but in the knowledge that one day all will be well and all manner of things will be well. The joy of a God who goes beyond our expectations. Stepping down into the world he created. Choosing joy despite his rejection. Extending joy where there appears to be none.

Let us not run after temporary happiness in our own power and wisdom, but find persevering joy in Jesus Christ.

He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,  for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.  From now on all generations will call me blessed,  for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is his name.

We light this third candle of Advent as a sign of our persevering joy.

PRAYER: Joy of Israel, as we walk through the darkness and difficulty of this world, would you help us to rejoice in you—to know that your work is not finished. Please teach us not to run after temporary happiness, but to find our joy in you. May we look to you, our joy, knowing that you continue to work your joy steadily into this world. Knowing that, at your coming, all war and oppression and sorrow will cease. That the darkness that feeds on this world cannot withstand the coming of the light. Come, Lord Jesus, Come. Amen.

WEEK 4: Persistent Peace

My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.

We have a persistent peace. A peace that goes beyond understanding and stills confusion, upheaval and war. What can overcome the weight of sin in the world? What can overcome our idolatry? What can overcome war, and hunger, and murder, and rage, and the sorrow of a world bowed under—lost in darkness? What is big enough? What is strong enough to beat back the darkness?

The answer, it seems, is a baby. The weakest and most vulnerable humanity. And it is this child that stops the war engines, turns instruments of torture into instruments of growth and flourishing, and stills the turmoil in our hearts. He brings a persistent peace that erodes the tempers of this world. The peace of a God who goes beyond our expectations. Stepping down into the world he created. Demonstrating peace in the midst of his rejection. Extending peace where there appears to be none.

Let us not seek our own peace through our own power and wisdom, but seek after the persistent peace of Jesus Christ.

He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,  for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.  From now on all generations will call me blessed,  for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is his name.

We light this fourth candle of Advent as a sign of our persistent peace.

PRAYER: Peace of Israel, as we walk through the darkness and difficulty of this world, would you help us to know you—to know your peace. Please help us to seek peace in you rather than through our own efforts. May we follow you, knowing that you continue to work your peace persistently into this world. Knowing that at your coming all war and oppression and sorrow will cease. That the darkness that feeds on this world cannot withstand the coming of the light. Amen. Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

CHRISTMAS EVE: Abundant Life

“My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.

We have an abundant life. A life that springs up from the stump of Jesse, from the withered vine of human flourishing, and injects into that vine the abundant life of the creator. What has overcome the weight of sin in the world? What has overcome our idolatry? What has overcome war, and hunger, and murder, and rage, and the sorrow of a world bowed under—lost in darkness?

The answer, it seems, is a baby. The weakest and most vulnerable humanity. A fragile flicker of life that extends God’s abundant life in all directions: providing justice, reconciling differences, unifying our shattered and scattered world. An abundant life that confounds death and suffering. The life of a God who goes beyond our expectations. Stepping down into the world he created. Giving life to those who have rejected him. Extending life where there appears to be none.

Let us find our lives secure in the power and wisdom of Jesus Christ! (Light Christ candle.)

He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,  for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.  From now on all generations will call me blessed,  for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is his name.

Rejoice! For the light of life has entered the world and conquered the darkness! He has come! He is coming!

Summing-up the Liturgical Year Experiment

Joan Chittister, “The Liturgical Year”

This past year (liturgical year, that is) I (Stacey Gleddiesmith – SG) have been walking through the Christian seasons with Ian Walden (IW) and Andrea Tisher (AT) – and we have all been walking with Joan Chittister, as we read through her book The Liturgical Year. For the conclusion of this series, I posed a number of questions to Ian, Andrea, and myself about the experience of walking very intentionally through the liturgical calendar this year. I know that some of you have been tracking with us throughout the year – even reading with us. We would love to hear your own answers to some of these questions – so comment away!

  • Is there one moment or event that stands out to you when you think back on walking through the church calendar/liturgical year with Joan Chittister?
    • IW: Advent, particularly the early stages, which bind up all our tiredness from months of following an invisible Jesus in ordinary time, and restore our hopes by uniting them with Israel’s. Joan confirmed Advent as my favourite time of the year, especially by highlighting that it is… the “beginning” of our year. We start by placing the “end” of Israel’s hopes (and ours), the coming of Jesus, right smack in front of our eyes. It sets a very different tone for the year than “New Year” party loneliness, excess, and regret!
    • SG The memory that crystalizes this past liturgical year for me is singing “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today!” and “He Arose” for weeks, rather than one single, solitary time on Easter morning…. Being able to let loose and celebrate fully (and at length) the resurrection of Christ (and therefore our resurrection to come) gave me hope and strength during a dark time in my life. It was an unexpected blessing.
    • AT: For me… Advent was the most memorable because it was also my first Advent in First Baptist Church (Vancouver) and so I was exploring both what Advent means, and what it means to this community, and how we might engage more deeply in the season… Looking back, I’m excited about how we learned to dig deep – and looking forward, I’m excited to do it again and with a little more awareness of who we are as a church and with a little more confidence that they trust me to lead them in new ways of doing things.
  • What did you find difficult about following the liturgical year?
    • AT: … Practically, it is really hard to live the story during Holy Week, when on the Wednesday night, you gather to rehearse all of the resurrection songs for Sunday morning. It’s a bit like skipping through scenes of a movie and then watching them in the wrong order and trying to stay “in” the story… it is a challenge for me on a personal level, but also on a pastoral level as I lead the 60+ musicians involved through that kind of week. I don’t want any of us to miss out on the week, but I also want us to be prepared.
    • IW: My own lack of preparation. Most events (the beginning of Lent, and even Easter day) caught me unawares, despite this advance reading and anticipation with Joan Chittister. By the time I’d realised the significance of the day, it had already passed, and I wasted the season in regret and never-really-getting-started.
    • SG: Being a worship leader, I need to plan for the next liturgical moment while I am both in the midst of the current moment and evaluating the previous moment. It is exhausting to walk this line… and it has caused me to think significantly my planning process (I’m going to try to write a basic plan for the coming liturgical year over the summer). At the same time, this blurring of lines enabled me to not only see, but experience, the connections between the liturgical seasons in a new way. Connect to the accompanying blog post.
  • What practice(s) will you take with you into the following year?
    • SG: Honestly, I don’t think we, as a church, will celebrate every little day and season… We will, however, preserve the seasons of fasting (Advent and Lent) and try to hold back on celebration, taking time to really prepare for it. We will also hang on to the extended seasons of celebration. Now that I’ve experienced an “extended Christmas” and an “extended Easter” I’m not sure I can go back to a one day “pull-out-all-the-stops” kind of celebration…
    • IW: Fasting / conscious preparation in both Advent and Lent (and figuring out the nature of those fasts, and making practical preparations for them [like clearing out the fridge] a week in advance). A “big” Easter (featuring, at least, communal worship times and personal reflections spanning Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, as well as Sunday)
    • AT: The main practice I’d like to take with me is one of “liturgical awareness” that is contagious… I found Chittister to be so inviting… Her descriptions of seasons and practices have such a winsome and attractive way about them… If I could live the seasons a little more the way Chittister describes them, perhaps there would be less need to convince anyone that participation and awareness of the seasons is a good idea.
  • Having walked intentionally through the liturgical calendar, how would you describe its meaning and purpose in the life of the church?
    • IW: It is a continual reminder of our purpose beyond this life. It insists that our lives aren’t just week-by-week, year-by-year survival, but they are witnesses and pioneers of a transposed life, of years after years that will one day (a day that starts now) be lived in a different, higher “key.”
    • AT: The liturgical calendar ensures that the church celebrates the WHOLE story. We don’t spend a whole year in lament or celebration, but follow the cycles which will allow for them both in the context of a story that is central to who we are. The calendar means that Jesus will have to be the focus for much of the year, which hopefully would be true anyway, but it also means that we’ll have to explore some of the less “popular” aspects of His life and ministry – including the idea that we are waiting for him still (Advent) – and to walk a little more slowly through the “death and resurrection” part of the story (Holy Week).
    • SG: After this past year, I understand what Chittister says near the beginning of her book. The slow, cyclical, plod through the life of Christ and the life of the church through the Spirit works as a spiral calling us ever deeper into the life of God. Humanity is designed for repetition. We need to hear the big story over and over – and the liturgical year is a great tool to guide a congregation through and into this meaningful repetition.
  • What would be the value of introducing some of these practices to the “non-liturgical” church, and how would you go about introducing them?
    • SG: The liturgical year is a key way in which you can work to deepen the spiritual life of your congregation. You don’t need all the bells and smells, but I would encourage “non-liturgical” churches to consider how they can rehearse the story: drawing on the liturgical traditions – but reapplying them in a way that suits the personality and character of their specific congregation.
    • IW: Church unity. However much we may disagree about doctrine, it’s harder to distrust and despise one another when we’re all consciously participating in the same acts at the same time. It gives us something in common we can talk about, for starters! Most “non-liturgical” churches plan preaching series in advance and cherish scripture, and so I would start there, consciously aiming to start a new series on the first Sunday of Advent, on Epiphany, in Lent, in Eastertide, and in Ordinary Time…
    • AT: I’m not really in a completely “non-liturgical” setting, so I think for me, it’s about adding strength and depth to our current practices and possibly adding to some of the seasons/days that we tend to treat more lightly. This next year, I’d like us to engage more in Eastertide, with a sense of heading towards Ascension and Pentecost…. I’m also thinking about ways that we might engage in a day like All Saints. Some of my key volunteers have been thinking with me about some creative ways to engage the day, but in a manner that will be more familiar…
  • How did the experience of walking intentionally through the liturgical calendar impact you personally?
    • AT: I found it very special to walk through the seasons thoughtfully and reflectively WITH you two. And my thinking and reflecting with you spilled over into other conversations and relationships too. I think it helped me feel more of a communal engagement. And the beauty of it is the way that the events of our lives match or completely miss-match the season. It means that sometimes we’re in a depression on Easter Sunday. And that’s okay. Or sometimes we’re in the euphoria of relational bliss during Lent. Or we’re experiencing some other life situation that feels “liturgically inappropriate”… as we gather week by week, there are those in our midst who are full of joy, anger, happiness, despair, excitement, anxiety … and so the calendar helps us to engage the whole gamut of human experience. (A bit like the Psalms, really!)
    • SG: Walking intentionally through the liturgical calendar in the company of Joan Chittister, Ian Walden, and Andrea Tischer gave me a fresh understanding of Jesus. The slow intentional plod of the liturgical year, and its focus on Christ, made me feel that I was matching my footprints (along with the others journeying with me) to Jesus’ footprints in the dust.  Stories I have heard all my life, accounts of Christ’s life that I have read almost yearly, came alive in a new way as I tried to walk my congregation through them… the liturgical year awakened in me a desire to measure my life in a new way.
    • IW: It convicted me! Mostly of how I live for deadlines, not for eternity. I time my life by accomplishments, not seasons, or character growth. This year re-awakened me to the scale of transformation I want to see in my life and goals. I don’t want to forget the height of purpose and depth of character that the various seasons call us to. I want my to-do list constantly reduced, effectively, to “walk with Jesus.”

Oh Lord, I want to be in that number! (a post on Chapter 30 of Joan Chittister’s The Liturgical Year)

by Andrea Tisher

I’m not accustomed to feast days. Haven’t grown up with them. And don’t have any sense of when they occur in the calendar. But I am used to thinking about the ‘cloud of witnesses’ – I have grown accustomed to giving thanks for the ordinary saints whose lives have intersected with mine in various ways.

The grandparents who I loved and learned from until their deaths. Thankfully, I had many years with both my grandmas, but all four of them – even the grandpa I never met – had tremendous impact on my life. And I was mindful that they were in that ‘cloud of witnesses’…

The aunt who lived with us on and off for the final decades of her life and loved me in ways I had no idea I could be loved. Taught and corrected me, laughed with me and challenged me, encouraged and loved me like a parent, but different than either of my parents, too.

And then the authors I began to encounter in my young adulthood. Madeleine L’Engle, whose journals led me to placed I’d have never gone to on my own. (Including a journey through the liturgical cycle back when I had no idea what that was!) C.S. Lewis. Hildegard von Bingen. Julian of Norwich. I began to encounter these folks and to see that they had been on this journey too. That I walked with them in some mysterious way. And then as I began to delve more deeply into the deep wealth of spiritual theology, my world of saints grew to include many more including hymnwriters Isaac Watts, Charles Wesley, and most of all, Anne Steele.

These people who gave their lives to follow Jesus have become heroes and role models for me. But, other than All Saints Day, I don’t usually see a connection between the liturgical calendar and this great cloud of witnesses. I wonder if that’s okay? Or am I missing another layer of the practice of the calendar?

How about you? Who are your heroes and role models? With whom do you hope to be when we go marching into the new heaven and new earth?

Fidelity, or “Why do we bother?”: Chapter 28 of Joan Chittister’s ‘The Liturgical Year’

by Ian Walden

The sun is setting. The feast of Easter is fading to memory. Ahead lies the long road of Ordinary Time. The next ‘high point’ in the Liturgical Year is a long, long way away. So when the candles are out, the colours are muted, and the words are, well, ordinary – why do we bother with these routines, these rituals, these practices?

The end of the noise and fuss and excitement is a good time for this question. It’s already forced me to re-examine my motives. It’s convicting to hear Sister Joan remind us that “we do not live a liturgical life to look good to other people. We do not develop a liturgical spirituality to affect a kind of spiritual dimension to our lives. And we certainly do not go to Mass regularly to avoid hell.” Ouch. Too often my newbie enthusiasm for this liturgical lark is akin to a shopper’s delight at a little-discovered bargain – consumerism ethos included.

So what’s a better answer? Chittister’s is that we are all (like a character in a parable she tells) being asked, silently but daily, the searching question: Are you Jesus? And I for one would like to say (perhaps also silently, but daily nonetheless) that yes, indeed, I am. I would like my Ordinary Time, my ordinary life, to be lived extraordinarily well, “no matter what other elements of life emerge to seduce us as the years go by.” No matter how far removed Jesus’ first earthly presence seems, no matter how absent his Spirit feels, no matter how improbable his Return appears, I want my life to be the evidence of Things Unseen. I want it, even this summer, to be both site and source of redemption in this world. More than a sacrifice, I need re-creation. I need my life to be witness that I am (and therefore all are) defined by the beautiful future, not the tragic past.

And as we’re all learning, in the Pentecostal economy, becoming like Jesus (learning to think like he thinks, to act as he acts, to allow his life/mind/heart to saturate ours) is something that can be learned. And learning takes repetition, re-enactment, constant re-membering. It takes fidelity, constancy, regularity. All else (and this also, paradoxically, is all the difference) is the in-breathed, dry-bone-stirring  Life of God.

Where have you seen Jesus lately? Where has his life continued in your midst, in the habits, reflexes, instincts, or desires exhibited by Jesus people – including yourself? Was it surprising, extraordinary, or surprisingly natural? Was it obvious, or seen only after reflection? What kind of practices, what kind of liturgy, might possibly (feel free to speculate, to guess!) have contributed to this miracle, this new Presence?

In the hope of glory, Amen.

Happy Pentecost!

This Sunday is Pentecost Sunday. Andrew is preaching on “The Road to Emmaus” rather than on Pentecost this week (finishing up his series on “Eating With Jesus,” check it out at BACC). Since the road to Emmaus is all about the revelation of Christ in and through us, I thought it would be appropriate to use “Spirit of Faith, Come Down,” a hymn written by Charles Wesley, for our call to worship and our benediction. 
 
We’ll read the first two verses as our call to worship, while we light multiple candles on our table – to symbolize the tongues of flame that descended upon the disciples. The final two verses will be our benediction.
 

Spirit of Faith, Come Down

Text: Charles Wesley, 1707-1788
Music: Sacred Harp
Tune: BEALOTH, Meter: SMD


1.  Spirit of faith, come down,

reveal the things of God,

and make to us the Godhead known,

and witness with the blood.

‘Tis thine the blood to apply

and give us eyes to see,

who did for every sinner die

hath surely died for me.

2. No one can truly say

that Jesus is the Lord,

unless thou take the veil away

and breathe the living Word.

Then, only then, we feel

our interest in his blood,

and cry with joy unspeakable,

“Thou art my Lord, my God!”

3.  O that the world might know

the all atoning Lamb!

Spirit of faith, descend and show

the virtue of his name;

the grace which all may find,

the saving power, impart,

and testify to humankind,

and speak in every heart.

4. Inspire the living faith

(which whosoe’er receive,

the witness in themselves they have

and consciously believe),

the faith that conquers all,

and doth the mountain move,

and saves whoe’er on Jesus call,

and perfects them in love.

Paschaltide: The Days of Pentecost (Chapter 27 of Joan Chittister’s The Liturgical Year)

by Andrea Tisher

So much of life is lived as one event after another. We anticipate and over-expect and then pick apart all the ways the event did (or mostly didn’t?) live up to our expectations. And then we choose the next event and do it all over again.

But the calendar isn’t so much about events. It’s about seasons. Which is tricky because we’ve made many of the seasons of the calendar into events as well. Christmas. Easter. Just one day (or one hour) events. But, if we’re willing to lean into the calendar in new ways, we’ll discover that there are whole seasons that we’ve been missing out on. Eastertide – or Paschaltide, as Chittister calls it – is just such a season that is so much more than the usual “Hooplah of Easter” followed by a “lull” of some kind. In our church this year, we tried to be intentional in a couple of ways. First, on the cover of the worship folder, we called each Sunday by its proper name. (ie. 2nd Sunday of Eastertide, 4th Sunday of Eastertide) and then we also tried to have at least part of the music reflect that we were worshipping the RISEN King. Then, on this past Sunday, we celebrated Ascension (which, technically is on the Thursday previous, but I don’t think we’re ready for a whole service devoted to the Ascension)  and called it Ascension Sunday and next week we’ll celebrate Pentecost to finish the season.

I love what Chittister says about the season of Eastertide: “the period of unmitigated joy, of total immersion in the implications of what it means to be a Christian, to live a Christian life.” (171) and “We come to know during these great fifty days not only who Jesus is but who we are meant to be, as a result.” (175)

How did you spend the season? Or did you know it was a season?

A story to finish…

I had a friend visit another church on May 6th where they made a royal fuss about how you simply would not want to miss Mother’s Day at their church. There were promises of gifts and celebration and all kinds of special things. She immediately wondered, if this is what they do for Mother’s Day, I wonder what they’ll do for Pentecost? The answer? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Their calendar based more on what the Hallmark store has in their special section… There was a time when this would have seemed quite normal to me. But not now. And I don’t want to go back. Bring on the seasons!

Easter Sunday: Chapter 25 of Joan Chittister’s ‘The Liturgical Year’

by Ian Walden

“This is the very center of the church. This, not the birth of a baby, is the reason we celebrate Christmas. This is the reason for all the feasts of the church. This is the place from which we all draw our fire.”

And what is this Easter-birthing ‘fire’? A tomb-seal shattered (from the inside?). Mighty strength, and glorious possibility – for one we thought Failure, God-Forsaken, for whom all hope had died. A human being, just like us (!) who was kindled to blaze down Death’s dark door, and claw back a Whole New Life beyond our dreams. And all this from One who had given comprehensive proof of His love for us all. So maybe, just maybe, this new way could be for us, too. “We are not, we know now with stunning awareness, made for this world alone. There is more to us than this. Life is about more than simply surviving … We are here to grow to full spiritual stature … we too, must now become part of the Light ourselves.”

This is, as Chittister puts it, “the feast of Resurrection, of the redemption of life from the abyss of nothingness to the pinnacle of creation.” The good news is about far more than a cross, a sacrifice, and forgiveness. That’s all huge, but it’s just the beginning. Now, from Sunday on, there’s a new Life to be lived, a new Alleluia to be yelled, a new Creation to invent. Because the night of this world’s decay is far gone, and the Day is at hand. We have already seen its dawn, and that Dawn now lives within us.”We have come again to answer the question that comes out of Holy Saturday’s emptiness: no, we are not alone.” And to the Light of the World, we are no longer servants, but partners. Who can tell what we might do on Monday?

The journey from Saturday’s silence and emptiness into celebration of this great New Beginning is, in Chittister’s experience, a four-part affair. It begins Saturday night, with the “striking of new fire,” whereby the candles of everyone assembled are lit from the one Paschal candle. Then the history of creation and salvation is told from Scripture, and the congregation shows their appreciation for God’s saving by repeating their baptismal vows, committing again to “try again to be what we are called to be.” Thus prepared, these new-day people cement all by sharing the great Feast of unity, of communion with the risen Christ and with each other.

This is all a lot longer and more involved than I’m used to. What does it all add? What ways of rejoicing have helped drill hope deep into you and your church? What do we miss by disconnecting Sunday from Saturday from Friday, as we so often do?