Rosehip Advent ~ Our First Sunday
Commoners' Advent, day 9
The newer ‘Church’ Advent has four Sundays and each one is given a different theme. I have been pondering then what themes we might give our six Sundays of Commoners’ Advent. Themes which would offer us an opportunity to pause and gather up the threads of where the Spirit has been leading us. I have some thoughts, although as ever I want to say that we are exploring this together and so we might try something that doesn’t quite work. That’s what makes it exciting!
Before we consider our six weeks, let’s look at the more traditional four week Advent.
Advent is a time of waiting, of sitting with our longing. Everything is born in the dark, and Advent starts with a seed and ends with a star, from small beginnings to an 'ending' as vast as the sky, but even then we will still be sitting in the dark. How else will the seed germinate, the star show us the way, how will we nurture the newborn spark if we rush headlong for the light? Which brings us back to the four Sundays of Advent.
One of the lovely traditional activities of Advent is lighting the candles of the Advent wreath, or Advent Crown. The wreath is traditionally made from evergreens and with four candles, often coloured violet and/or rose, or sometimes a fifth white one to act as the 'Christ candle'. One candle is lit each Sunday of Advent, and the fifth on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. This takes place in both homes & churches, the light increasing amongst us each week until the Sun & the Son are reborn at Midwinter. Until then we trust and we hope, as our ancestors have before us for thousands upon thousands of years.
The concept of the Advent Crown originated with 16th Century German Lutherans, although the wreath that we would recognise came into being in the 1800s. It seems that Johann Hinrich Wichern, a German Protestant pastor who worked with the urban poor, invented the Advent wreath as a way to reassure the children at his mission school that Christmas was indeed coming, and so encouraging them not to ask for a progress report every day (some are better at waiting than others!). This first wreath was made from an old cartwheel, turned on its side and with 20 small red and 4 large white candles around the rim. Each day a red candle would be lit, and each Sunday a white one. This evolved into the smaller wreaths with five candles that we know today.
The candles symbolise the increase of the light in the world but each also has its own individual meaning, which are Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. There are variations on the theme, such as Faith, Prepare, Joy, and Love, or Prophets, Angels, Shepherds, and Magi. I have also read about an alternative theme from an ancient order of Carmelite nuns, who are dedicated to lives of contemplative prayer & who focus in Advent on Waiting, Accepting, Journeying, and Birth. This feels like a more gentle, slower movement towards the light, one which embraces the dark and the unknowing. All of these are meaningful subjects to explore during a time of waiting and I’m sure that they will weave their way through our own journey in all manner of ways.
As for our six Sunday’s of Commoners’ Advent; I was was reflecting this week of my poem, ‘Rosehip Advent’, written in response to a Quiet Day reflecting on the seven 'O Antiphon' prayers or chants led by priest, poet, musician, and chaplain of Girton College Cambridge, Malcolm Guite at The Royal Foundation of St Katharine in Limehouse, London in December 2018.
These short, contemplative prayers, whose origin is unknown but which have been existence since at least the 6th Century if not long before, are read through the last seven days of Advent in deep relationship to, and either side of, Mary's defiant canticle, the Magnificat, sung as she accepted the challenge of birthing and mothering the Holy Child.
"My soul magnifies the Lord, and my soul rejoices in God my Saviour...
He has shown strength with his arm;
He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty."
This is not Mary meek and mild as she is often presented to us by the institutional Church. This is a fierce call for radical change and social justice, not a request but a demand, not a plea but an expectation. This is Mary calling for revolution; the World Turned Upside Down. As Rachel Held Evans writes in her, 'Mary, the Magnificat, and an Unsentimental Advent'; “With the Magnificat, Mary declares that God has indeed chosen sides.”
Mary’s ‘Magnificat’, found in Luke 1: 46-55, is the longest set of words spoken by any woman in the New Testament’ and considered by many to be deeply subversive and challenging to the status quo, both then and now. It was Mary’s spontaneous response to being declared ‘blessed’ by Elizabeth, who at that time was pregnant with John the Baptist. One might suggest that it was counter-cultural enough for two such strong women to take centre stage in such deeply patriarchal times, but there are so many layers to this story.
It is believed that Mary was still a teenager when she became pregnant with Jesus, and that Elizabeth was likely to have been more than sixty years old, certainly well past child bearing years. For women of such different ages to call one another friend and confidant as equals is subversive indeed. And Mary’s song of blessing is not one of simple joy; it is threaded through with fear; the fear of a young girl, unmarried and pregnant at a time when to be so risked social ostracism and humiliation. Indeed, under Jewish law, she was at risk of stoning for adultery.
Even in that context, she sings for hope, defiant in the face of danger. It is this defiance which caused the Magnificat to become a “radical resource for those seeking to honour the holy amongst the conflicts and suffering of real life.” (Rev. Carolyn Sharp). It has often become a source of strength for those on the margins who have struggled for liberation. Indeed, from the 1970s in South America, despite the authorities presenting her as an image of piety, Mary became Maria Libertadora, Mary the Liberator, an extremely powerful and important symbol of revolution.
During British rule of India the Magnificat was banned from being sung in church. German Lutheran pastor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was executed by the Nazis in 1945 having worked for the German resistance movement, was deeply devoted to Mary. In a sermon given at Advent in 1933 he said, “The song of Mary is the oldest Advent hymn. It is at once the most passionate, the wildest, one might even say the most revolutionary Advent hymn ever sung.” In Guatemala in the 1980s the fascist Government banned its recitation considering it to be ‘too dangerous’.
During Argentina’s ‘war’ against political dissidents, the ‘Mothers of the Disappeared’ placed Mary’s challenging words on posters all over the capital plaza and the display of her song was subsequently outlawed by the military junta. And, of course, Mary too understood the pain of the loss of a child.
More recently, in 2012 Russian all female punk band, Pussy Riot, became famous when they invaded the Cathedral of the Holy Saviour in Moscow and sang a protest song against Vladimir Putin's re-election. The song they sang was a prayer to Mary. Part of the lyrics translate as, "Mother of God, you're a feminist, come and help us. We know you're with us in our protest. Holy Mary, drive Putin away..."
Mary sings of the ‘world turned upside down’, of a time when the “rulers will be brought down from their thrones”, “the humble will be lifted up”, and “filled with good things” as the “rich are sent away empty”. These are themes which often rise in our midwinter traditions. The Mari Lwyd, or Grey Mare, of South Wales, and our soul caking and wassailing traditions, ensure the same sharing of resources from rich to poor. We also have customs such as the ‘Lord of Misrule’, who was often a peasant chosen by lot to preside over Christmastide festivities ~ a reminder that the social hierarchy was maintained by consent, rather than by right. What could be more perfect for our Commoners’ Advent? And so, it feels meaningful to in some way call in one of the ‘O Antiphons’ that cradle her subversive song in ancient prayer for each week of our journey.
The antiphons are tiny prayers, or pauses, in a longer liturgy, providing opportunities to breathe and reflect, if only for a moment. For me, Sundays are like that too, and so it feels that they might provide us with an opportunity to take stock before moving into the week ahead.
Here they are as they are sung in the last week of Advent:
17th December ~ O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
18th December ~ O Adonai (O Lord, O Secret Name)
19th December ~ O Radix (O Root)
20th December ~ O Clavis (O Key)
21st December ~ O Oriens (O Dayspring/O Light) Beautiful indeed for Winter Solstice!
22nd December ~ O Gentium Rex (O King)
23rd December ~ O Emmanuel (God With Us)
Some of these might not seem to be words that the people of the Commons would want to journey with but, believe me, they are so much more subversive than they seem at first glance. We will certainly not be bowing to any lords or kings.
As an aside, if we follow these threads, our Commoners’ Advent will begin and end with the Feminine. From Sapientia/Sophia, the Feminine aspect of Wisdom, to Mothers' Night. Advent ends as dusk falls on Christmas Eve and darkens into a night that was once known as Mõdraniht; Night of the Mothers, a vigil held by Anglo-Saxon Pagans and attested to in the 8th Century by the Venerable Bede. We could then choose to deepen into the way in which this night celebrating the female ancestors and the Mother Goddesses of Old Europe resonates with the story of Christmas and sit in vigil to contemplate and support those who bring light to birth in the winter dark.
You can read Malcolm Guite's tender and powerful poems in response to the 'O Antiphons' beginning here. They are both beautiful and thought-provoking.
And here is mine; my own fierce and defiant call for change, and for a Spirit threaded through with frost and fox-fire.
Rosehip Advent
O Come, as Child of Promise in a rose hip’s seed.
Come, as Child of Edge and Liberty.
Come, as whore, as outcast, refugee.
Come as displaced child in a sinking boat.
Come, homeless in a doorway without a winter coat.
Come, as arms dealer, pimp, and pedlar of Austerity.
O Come, to us so blind we cannot see.
Come, as tyrant and oppressor too.
Teach us that our opposite is not the opposite of you.
O Come, and birth the World Turned Upside Down.
Come, King of Kings who wears a peasant’s crown.
Come, as defiler and defiled,
Come, trailing grace notes as heron wing and wild.
O Come, as fox fur and flame’s flight.
Come, as frost to break our frozen fallows into Light
Come, as darkness birthing mercy’s seed.
Grow through the cracks in every place of violence and greed.
Let every cell and atom sing in your Key.
Give starling, wren, and sparrow their authority.
Come, as Root of hawthorn and of briar.
O Wildflower Worker Come, as Wisdom’s starving child.
Come, in the places no one thought you would.
Although the ancient stories make it clear.
Take shape in every place of rage and fear.
Come nettle-leaved to cleanse the bitter blood.
O Come, be born with us, in us, and, for Christ’s, sake stay.
Help us see we still have time to go home another way.
(Jacqueline Durban, Advent 2018)
Let’s then gather up the threads of our first week, which has been grounded in Wisdom; O Sapientia. Sapientia or Sophia, the personification of wisdom in several religions, the Feminine face of God; “Wisdom shouts in the streets. She cries out in the public square.” (Proverbs 1:20)
And so, on this Stir-up Sunday, I have been contemplating the wisdom that our first week of Commoners’ Advent has stirred up and have found the threads of the swan and goose saints, the wolf saints, and the marsh Church of the Shepherd and the Shrew. I have found the power of witnessing, of connection to the wild, and the winter star of hope. It is a beautiful beginning. I look forward to exploring the week ahead together.
References:
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advent_wreath
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advent
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary,_mother_of_Jesus
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magnificat
https://marcuscurnow.wordpress.com/2012/11/27/a-revolutionary-hail-mary/amp/
https://politicaltheology.com/mary-the-prophet/
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mari_Lwyd
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mōdraniht
#CommonersAdvent #OldAdvent #CelticAdvent #StMartinsLent #WinterLent
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I did not realise how much I needed this Commoners Advent until this week of your posts. A week ago I had returned from a foray to a retail cavern in search of their best priced bird food, sad and cross at the sheer amount of Xmas tat that contained not a glimpse of Christ Mass. And now I have a path to follow that seems so pure and true. Thank you.
Thank You for reminding us what the true joy of the darkening times is about. The poem you wrote is beautiful and so powerful 🙏💙