Christian year

Dances for the Seasons of the Christian Year

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The seasons and feasts of the church year offer numerous possibilities for congregational movement and choreographed dance. Significant dimensions of these celebrations are best experienced through such action.

The liturgical celebrations during the seasons provide variety, color, texture, emotion, and richness of theme to what would be a rather unexciting “ordinary time.” Each season has its own particular symbols as well as those that are part of the ritual throughout the year, such as bread and wine, water, and oil. In Advent, the symbols are darkness and light; at Christmas, light, and birth, evergreens, and angelic choirs; in Lent, ashes, and palms; in Easter, water, light, oil, flowers, and signs of new life; at Pentecost, fire, wind, and dancing people. There is a dramatic sequence to the events of the year that call forth a special ritual response in symbolic moments. These “moments” are most often built into the rituals of the year, such as the Easter vigil. The problem that often arises, however, is that somehow these symbols are blurred and do not speak clearly. Many persons who have used liturgically danced prayer have discovered that gestures, movements, and dances in some form can indeed make the symbols of the seasons “come alive” and “speak” to the assembly. Because these celebrations are so special, they demand special attention to the symbols and the way in which these symbols are allowed to communicate. Dancers in the liturgy serve as “symbol-bearers”; the first and foremost symbol being the human body itself … a body that is called to be the place of divine and human interaction. A look at some of these seasonal celebrations can yield specific suggestions to make them expressive of the human desire to communicate with God and God’s desire to speak an incarnational language.

Advent and Christmas

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Isa. 8). The primary symbols of the Advent season are darkness and light. It is a season of expectation and hope that is expressed in the flickering lights of candles glowing in the darkness and the enduring hope captured in the symbol of the “Advent wreath,” a circle of evergreens, claiming a promise soon to be fulfilled and a longing that will never die.

A traditional song of the Advent season is “O come, O Come Emmanuel.” It has been the source of many Advent processionals. What I would suggest is a simple walking pattern with a pause or lunge on the “Rejoice! Rejoice!” section of the song. What can make the processional beautiful and interesting, however, is the movement of the lights. This can be done by holding the candles in both hands or one, moving them in a clockwise or counterclockwise direction. With the Advent wreath carried in the middle of the processioners, the effect of the lights dancing around the wreath is created. Once one verse is established in its movement, a simple choreographic device can be used in geometric patterns that change the visual perception (do not, however, confuse the dancers by adding extra “steps”). The basic pattern can be done around the altar in a circle or using diagonal lines through the celebration space. Even the most inexperienced choreographer can devise an interesting processional movement with a simple walking base, some upper arm/body movements, and the use of geometric patterns. This procession of lights for the Advent season can be an effective and solemn way to engage the assembly in the symbols of light and darkness. An advantage is that this does not demand trained dancers; it can be done by most members of the community who are willing to learn and practice.

Many of the readings during the Advent season speak of God’s glory. Another effective use of the symbol of light would be to keep the electric lights extinguished even after the opening processional. As the liturgy of the Word continues, a few more candles are lit. The Alleluia proclamation could then become a dance of lights around the gospel book. This would bring to expression the Word as light in the lives of the faithful people: “your Word is a lantern.” There is a beautiful Alleluia setting in Peloquin’s “Lord of Life” that is solemn, reverential, and very suitable to the theme of the Word incarnate in the Advent season. Again, there could be a simple movement of the feet, a basic walking pattern, with more movement of lifting, lowering, turning, and passing the light as it shines on the gospel book.

All through the liturgy, during the preparation of gifts, the creed, and so on, more lights could be lit. The gradual impression of light building can be an effective means of having the assembly “come alive” to the light. By the conclusion of the liturgy the space would be ablaze with light. At this point, as a closing expression of faith, the song “City of God” from the St. Louis Jesuits’ Lord of Light could be sung and danced. The lyrics speak of the light in the darkness, our tears turned into dancing, and other appropriate expressions of the Advent season. Depending upon the assembly, space, and time of preparation, this could be danced by those trained in the community or be simplified as a congregational dance given the requirements of space, time for preparation, and openness to this kind of communal prayer expression. If it is impossible with the assembly, it is possible to use a simple, but lively dance in a triple meter that many could do with willingness and preparation. This closing song and dance would express the primary symbol of a people who share their faith, their hope, their love, and their desire to “build the city of God.”

Alternative Advent Suggestions

First Sunday—Year A. Begin the liturgy with the proclamation of the first reading, Isaiah 2:1–5. The image is walking together in the light of the Lord, streaming toward God’s holy mountain. Immediately following the proclamation (ideally done in some other gathering place) the whole assembly or selected members and ministers would “go up with joy to the house of the Lord.” Carrying the symbols of the season, the procession would in fact do what the first reading and psalm are speaking about: a joyful journey in faith and hope. A simple tripudium step; three forward one back could be the basis of this easy, rhythmic procession. Another new addition to the musical repertory is Peloquin’s “Let us Go Rejoicing” from his Songs of Israel II.

Third Sunday—Years A and C. There are certain readings that are meant to be simply “listened” to and reflected on. There are others, however, that can vividly be “expressed” through mime, drama, or dance. There is something about certain readings that calls for an appropriate visualization as well as a clear proclamation. In the third Sunday of Advent, the theme of rejoicing is most explicit. In Isaiah 35:1–6 and Zephaniah 3:14–18, the readings use images of physical exultation, of life-giving expression. These readings could be “interpreted” by competent members of the community who have some training and background in mime or dance. The important caution, however, is that it not be a literal interpretation, using gestures or movements that say the same thing as the verbal text. The idea of this kind of interpretation is to capture the underlying emotions and conflicts and give them life through the movement. It is not to “picture” or “act out” what the words are saying. Its purpose is to enliven the spirit, not to burden it with repetitive images. The difficulty is that this kind of interpretation demands much planning and work with the reader of the text. Because there is no musical support, the rhythm of the language and the dancer’s body have to mesh into an expressive unity. This is a most difficult liturgical dance and yet it seems to be a frequent addition to liturgies. Anyone who feels “moved by the spirit” comes forward to “interpret” the reading or the psalm. Such movement can be a distraction to the community. Because this interpretation demands so much coordination, it demands sufficient preparation to enable the movement to speak its own language and not be imitative of the verbal language.

Isaiah 35, for example, describes very clear and precise images: the desert blooming, feeble hands, weak knees, eyes of the blind opened, ears of the deaf cleared. The literal way of presenting this reading would be an attempt to find nonverbal images that correspond to the verbal images. One would be at pains to find explicit images for blindness, deafness, or weak knees. It is better to leave this to the imagination of the listener. An alternative is for two dancers to reveal the underlying expectation, excitement, and miraculous joy that stems from the experience of God’s transformation. The challenge is to bring alive the emotional content of the reading and bring that to expression for those who are hearing and feeling that excitement. Meeting the challenge with this kind of liturgical movement is rewarding if it is done well. It enables the living Word to come to life.

First Sunday—Year B. The first reading of this liturgy, Isaiah 63, has been set to music by the St. Louis Jesuits (“Redeemer Lord,” Lord of Light). The driving rhythms and the musical dissonance make this a very interesting piece of danceable liturgical music. (Often the unchanging rhythms of much liturgical music do not aid the dynamics of dance.) Through music and movement, the Isaiah passage could be effectively communicated.

The climax of the Advent season is the celebration of the birth of Christ, the Incarnation. On this feast, it is especially appropriate to “incarnate” the church’s liturgy through movement prayer. Christmas is a season of wonder. The liturgy of this season needs to capture this sense of wonder, especially as it is embodied in the lives of children.

The Directory for Masses with Children encourages, “the development of gestures, postures, and actions … in view of the nature of the liturgy as an activity of the entire man and in view of the psychology of children” (33). It goes on to say that

the processional entrance of the children with the priest may help them to experience a sense of the communion that is thus constituted. The participation of at least some of the children in the procession with the book of the gospels makes clear the presence of Christ who announces his word to the people The procession of children with the chalice and gifts expresses clearly the value and meaning of the presentation of gifts. The communion procession, if properly arranged, helps greatly to develop the piety of children. (34)

The liturgy of Christmas should embrace these instructions and let the children give expression to their wonder in specific shape and form. There are numerous Christmas carols that can be used in procession. The story of Christmas can be told through different carols with the children dancing or miming. The origin of the carol is rooted in dance forms that were used in conjunction with the music. The Christmas liturgy would be an excellent opportunity to use the musical settings designed for children, such as Peloquin’s “Unless You Become.” This work affords many opportunities for movement acclamation, especially during the Alleluia and Eucharistic prayer.

The Advent/Christmas season is rich with symbols of hope, of longing, of wonder, and promise. In the liturgies of this season, gesture, movement, and dance can incarnate what is hoped for and what has already been fulfilled in the coming of Christ.

Lent

The Lenten season has its own richness of symbolic expression beginning with the celebration of ashes and culminating with the powerful symbols of Holy Week. It is a season in the church’s liturgy that allows the experience of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus to be remembered in the lives of the assembled faithful. It is most important during this season that the assembly be engaged in embodied prayer so that it may experience its unique participation in the Easter event. The renewed place of the catechumenate during this season has been helpful in letting the assembly claim the process of conversion as its own. The following are some suggestions for the involvement of the whole assembly as well as specific examples of dance during the Lenten/Easter season. It is a time of penitence, journeying, growth in self-knowledge, a time to deepen one’s knowledge of the person of Jesus, especially in his humanity, a time to celebrate the ultimate victory of life over death. It is a time to dance.

Ash Wednesday. This day that begins the Lenten season has the power of linking the past and looking forward to the future. The symbols are strong and clear. It is important that people see the burning of last year’s palms so that there is a link with the past experience of Lenten conversion. (The cyclic nature of human ritual needs to be brought out more clearly.) Bread and wine should be seen and tasted like food for the journey. If possible, the signing with ashes should be done by members of the assembly to each other so that the symbol may be touched, felt, and seen. The liturgy can begin with the proclamation of Joel’s “call to repentance” from within the assembly. The presider enters in silent procession and prostrates himself before the assembly. The members of the assembly kneel to express their need for conversion and repentance. There is time for silent prayer. On rising, the presider invites the community to further reflection, and all sing a selection such as “Grant to us, O Lord” by Lucien Deiss. Following the homily and silent reflection, the presider burns some palm, blesses the ashes, and invites members of the assembly to sign each other as a beginning symbol of solidarity with the Lord and with each other during this Lenten journey. At some point in the liturgy, a single member of the assembly could dance to “Be Not Afraid” as an expression of hope and trust during the Lenten season. People can be drawn more deeply into the truth and beauty of the words of this song and the shared human experience they articulate.

The Sundays of Lent. The Liturgy of the Word during the Lenten season offers many opportunities for creative proclamation. The long gospels of John during Cycle A can be communicated through drama, mime, or dance. A model of this kind of presentation is given in the work of the Fountain Square Fools. This group of professional actors, mimes, and dancers has integrated the gospel story with imagination, energy, and conviction. The group’s portrayal of the parable of the Prodigal is exceptionally powerful.

The following are some suggestions for dance in the Sundays of Lent:

  • 1st Sunday: The theme in all cycles is the temptation of Jesus in the desert. The song, “Jesus the Lord,” can be used as a response to the gospel reading. The slow, reflective antiphon repeated four times can lead the assembly into a simple gesture prayer. The music breathes the name Jesus and the gestures/movement should be an extension of the rhythmic pulse set up by the breathing in and out on the name “Jesus.” (It is important for those who design the movements for the assembly to explore all the possibilities of raising and lowering the hand and arms so that all gestures do not look and feel alike.)
  • 2nd Sunday: The theme in all cycles is the Transfiguration. Michael Joncas’s “On Eagle’s Wings” captures the spirit of this theme of transformation, light, and special protection. This particular piece of music with its intricate rhythms demands certain expertise of the dancers who perform it. If the movement is to be faithful to the form and intent of the musical composition, it is important that the choreographer recognize the complexity of the music and not trivialize it with a too basic movement. The choreography for this piece in the repertoire of the Boston Liturgical Dance Ensemble, for example, includes arabesques on half-pointe, en planche, Soutenu turns, attitudes en promenade, and reverses. These movements are visible to the assembly but need trained dancers to execute them.
  • 3rd Sunday: In cycle A, the gospel is the woman at the well and the liturgy has a strong baptismal theme. John Foley’s “Come to the Water” can be an effective response to the Liturgy of the Word and a bridge to the Liturgy of the Eucharist. In a liturgy at St. James Cathedral in Brooklyn, New York, the Boston Liturgical Dance Ensemble danced with members of the assembly who had been trained the day before. A white cloth twenty yards long was drawn through the building by twenty dancers. Working the cloth in an undulating motion, the dancers gave the impression of water flowing, enveloping the assembly with the symbol. Two dancers near the altar danced more complex movements. The cloth was drawn over them and then placed on the altar to become the altar cloth. The two dancers presented the gifts to the presider and the liturgy continued.

The variety of themes during this season afford many more opportunities for nonverbal expressions. The theme of forgiveness and reconciliation can be embodied through gestures of healing, through enacting the gospel stories of reunion, through expressing the affective dimension of reconciliation in the psalms of the season (Ps. 23, 130, 137, 51, 34). The musical settings of these psalms vary in style and will affect the movement interpretation. Certain musical forms are more conducive to the necessary tension within dance composition. Many of the psalm settings of Peloquin, for example, have a musical tension that elicits an expressive movement response.

Holy Week

Holy Week is clearly the high point of the church’s liturgical year. The celebration of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus demands a liturgy rich in word and action, mood, and symbol. The Holy Week liturgies need to involve the whole person in prayer. The reality of Passover is incarnated in bodies that move. This movement emerges naturally from the existing ritual and does not have to be superimposed upon it. The following are examples of places in the ritual that calls for “embodiment.”

Passion Sunday. Procession with Palms: (a) the whole community gathers outside the building and enters in procession carrying the palms; (b) with the community already assembled, dancers carrying royal palms enter in rhythmic procession to “All Glory, Laud, and Honor.” The procession uses a simple walking base, punctuated by lunges. The dancers open and close the palms, turn and reach with them. The royal palms have a majesty that conveys the solemnity of the occasion.

Proclamation of the Passion: There have been many different approaches to dramatic presentations of the Passion. One effective presentation that has been used employs a combination of dramatic reading and mime. A long purple cloth is used as the unifying symbol throughout. It functions as the cloth of the Last Supper and delineates the different places: the garden, the house of Annas, Pilate’s palace. It becomes the cloth thrown over Jesus, the cross itself, and then the burial cloth. The narrative is read by trained lectors and the dance/mime is done by dancers and actors. This particular rendering of the Passion has engaged the assembly with the powerful emotion, even though they did not “do” anything.

The Assembly’s Acclamations: The original Palm Sunday event had people in the streets of Jerusalem acclaiming Jesus as King. During the acclamations of the eucharistic prayer, the assembly should be invited to raise their arms with palms in hand, waving them with the words, “Hosanna in the highest, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” and at other points of acclamation.

Holy Thursday. Washing of Feet: An important gesture embodying the gospel which precedes it. This is a case where form and content are inextricably bound. The command of Jesus to “love one another” is tied to a specific symbol of service. This sign should not be neglected for the sake of convenience or speed. It is also important that it be done in such a way that it is a visible sign to the whole assembly.

Preparation of Gifts: The symbols of bread and wine should be given an even greater emphasis on this night. A more elaborate procession may be called for. The symbols must be clearly visible and genuine; bread that is baked by someone in the community, wine held in a lovely carafe.

Transfer of the Eucharist: A simple but powerful movement that can engage people in reverence and prayer.

Stripping the Altar: This silent ritual has an extraordinary psychological effect on people. It can be a striking prelude to the experience of Good Friday.

Good Friday. Prostration: Prostration is an important gesture of penance, humility, and dependence. The silent procession and the prostration are a stark beginning to the Good Friday liturgy.

Orations: “Let us kneel. Let us stand.” The Good Friday liturgy tries to involve the assembly in postures that embody reverence and respect for the solemnity of the celebration. The community should take time to kneel in silent prayer so that the movement “kneel-stand” is expressive of an attitude of reverence and respect rather than an empty gesture of inconvenient effort.

Veneration of the Cross: A movement that involves the whole assembly in procession and praise. It affords the opportunity to express an attitude of loving reverence not only for Jesus’ sacrifice but for all of life which is embraced by the symbol of the cross.

Easter Vigil

On this night the church uses all of its basic symbols to allow a rich experience of new life and hope. The elements of fire, water, bread, and wine become the sacramental manifestation of the presence of God. The form and structure of the celebration, from the lighting of the new fire, the procession of light, the proclamation of the exalted, the stories of God’s activity in the world, the baptismal event, to the new Passover meal that is shared, proclaim the single most important affirmation of the Christian faith. “He is risen. Alleluia!” All of the symbolic elements of this ritual are involved in this proclamation. That is why it is so important on this night to allow the symbols to speak. The following are some suggestions for an effective ritual: Lighting of the Fire: If feasible, begin outside so that all can see the fire. The procession should only begin when all have their candles lit. The final acclamation should be intoned only when all have assembled in the celebration space. During the “Exsultet,” candles should be kept burning. The lights (electric) should be left off until the Gloria.

Liturgy of the Word: In the darkness, except for the light of the paschal candle and any light necessary for the lector, the readings are proclaimed. For the Genesis reading, six lectors are stationed throughout the church, each with an unlit candle. As the story of creation begins, a dancer comes to the paschal candle and draws the light from the candle. He or she then goes to the next reader bringing the light. At the end of the seven days, there are seven lights symbolizing the creation. The positions of these readers around the perimeter of the space can create the impression of being surrounded by creation.

Gloria: Out of the darkness comes a dancing people! As the final response to the Ezekiel reading is being sung, all the candles are lit again. As the Gloria is intoned, the first image the assembly has is women and men dressed in white and gold, dancing to this song of praise.

Alleluia: The first Alleluia of the Easter season should be embodied in a joyful dance around the gospel book. This could be done as a procession with the book or as a special incensation with dancers moving around the book, carrying bowls of incense.

The entire liturgy of Easter cries out for the full participation of the assembly. In the baptismal and Communion rites that follow the proclamation of the Word, the people should be engaged by the symbols in the acclamation: “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again! Alleluia!” It is the task of those working with movement and gesture in liturgy to continue to find suitable ways to make the Easter event come to life.

Pentecost

Pentecost gives another opportunity to ritualize the Easter event, but where the focus of Easter is the proclamation “Jesus is risen,” the focus of Pentecost is “Where are God’s people?” This is the celebration of a people filled with the Spirit of God. It is an appropriate time for dance as an expression of the joy, the ecstasy, and the liveliness of the Spirit. There are a number of musical settings appropriate for a festive opening procession. Peloquin’s, “Lord, Send Out Your Spirit,” The Monks of the Weston Priory’s “Spirit Alive,” and Peloquin’s “Praise to the Lord” have all been used by the Boston Liturgical Dance Ensemble as opening processionals to enliven the celebration space on this special feast. In these pieces, red material is used to suggest the tongues of fire and capture the breadth, vitality, and dynamic movement of the first Pentecost.

There are many other celebrations during the year that can call for a special use of dance. Two that have been exceptionally effective for me have been a baccalaureate and a wedding. In the baccalaureate liturgy at Boston College, which takes place every year in a sports complex, the dance brings visual beauty and focus to the celebration that it would lack without it. In alternative spaces for liturgy that is used for very large groups (convention center, stadium) the “secular” can be transformed into the “sacred” through movement and color that provides beauty and graciousness. In the Boston College baccalaureate, the most successful use of dance has been with Peloquin’s Lyric Liturgy and his Lord of Life.

This particular wedding ritual had a special meaning since the bride and groom were both dancers and dance had become the way in which they expressed their faith. Their friends, other dancers, carried floral arches in a procession that could be brought together to make a bridal arch, combined to form the symbol of the ring or simply make a beautiful visual pattern in the front of the space. After the exchange of vows, the dancers returned with the floral arches, dancing to Laetitia Blain’s Song of Meeting, surrounding the newly married couple, finally creating a floral canopy over their heads. Since this was a special dance liturgy, in which the medium of dance was the primary mode of communication, there were many points in the liturgy that were danced. During the water rite, the dancers passed flowers to all in the assembly. The responsorial psalm, Michael Joncas’s “I Have Loved You,” was danced as was his “Praise His Name” for the gospel acclamation. The bride and groom led the assembly in gesture prayer to a chanted “Our Father.” The communion meditation, “Be Not Afraid,” was danced as was the closing hymn “Ode to Joy” (with special wedding lyrics). The entire ritual was a beautifully effective realization of the power of dance to communicate as a symbol in liturgy. Although it may seem to one who has only heard the ritual described that there was “too much” dance, the experience of the people who were present was not that at all. Because of who the couple was, and given the integration of the dances into the flow of the ritual and the participation of the whole assembly in spirit and body, it was a ritual that communicated what it intended, namely, the love of two people as a sign of new life in the church.

A renewed sense of the place of dance in liturgy is a sign of life for many in the church. For others, it is a threatening manifestation of the disintegration of standards and morals. Many will continue to fight vigorously against its inclusion as a valid means of religious expression in liturgical worship. If there is to be a meaningful dialogue between those who approve and those who disapprove, there must be an openness to learn from each other’s perceptions and experiences, but in the last analysis, people must be able to worship their God in ways that honestly express their faith. Environment and Art in Catholic Worship says:

Christians have not hesitated to use every human art in their celebration of the saving work of God in Jesus Christ, although in every historical period they have been influenced, at times inhibited, by cultural circumstances. In the resurrection of the Lord, all things are made new. Wholeness and healthiness are restored because the reign of sin and death is conquered. Human limits are still real and we must be conscious of them. But we must also praise God and give God thanks with the human means we have available. God does not need liturgy; people do, and people have only their own arts and styles of expression with which to celebrate.

Colors of the Christian Year

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Colors of the various seasons of the Christian year express the mood or feeling of the season. The following outline presents the colors most often associated with Christian seasons.

Advent. Blue or violet express the penitential nature of the season as well as the royalty of Christ.

Christmas. White expresses the celebrative nature of the season.

After Epiphany. Green expresses the ongoing eternal nature of growth. Use white for Baptism of the Lord Sunday and for the last Sunday which celebrates the transfiguration of our Lord.

Lent. Black, violet, grays, and/or muted blues express the solemnity of Lenten time.

Holy Week. Red is used as the color of the blood of Christ and of the martyrs. Black is also used to express the somber nature of Holy Week. For Holy Communion on Maundy Thursday, use white or red. For Good Friday and Holy Saturday, red, black, or no color.

Easter. Gold or white expresses the joy of the season. Use red on Pentecost Sunday. Red symbolizes fire and the coming of the Holy Spirit.

After Pentecost. Green expresses the ongoing work of God. Use white on Trinity Sunday, All Saints’ Day, and Christ the King Sunday. White expresses the celebratory nature of these days.

Other Uses of Color

White: wedding, funeral, Thanksgiving, dedication, baptism

Red or Scarlet: church anniversary, ordination/installation, confirmation, reception into the church, revival, preaching, missions, work of the Holy Spirit

During weekday services, use the color of season (after Epiphany, Passiontide, after Pentecost), or color of preceding Sunday (in Advent, Christmas, Lent, and Easter), unless a color is specified in the calendar for the day (Good Friday, etc.).

Denominational promotions and thematic events (Day/Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, World Communion Sunday, etc.) may be worked in with the Christian calendar emphasis for a given day without overshadowing that emphasis. Laity (women’s, men’s, children’s) days, church vocations, missions, etc., may be honored without supplanting the calendared day or season.

Civil and commercial holidays and observances NEVER supersede the Christian use for the main services on any Sunday, nor mix with them, if it can be helped. Civil days include national, state, and local holidays (Presidents’ birthdays, Memorial, Flag, Independence days, etc.). Commercial observances include Valentine’s, St. Patrick’s, Grandparents’, Mothers’ and Fathers’ days, etc. If possible, observe these in Sunday evening or midweek services, or with a church school or fellowship event.

An Overview of the Christian Year

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Worship leaders and planners from many traditions have been working toward a consensus or ecumenical approach to the Christian year, resulting in the following outline of the year-long calendar.

ADVENT SEASON
First Sunday of Advent to fourth Sunday of Advent

CHRISTMAS SEASON
Christmas Eve/Day
First Sunday after Christmas
New Year’s Eve/Holy Name of Jesus
Second Sunday after Christmas
Epiphany

SEASON AFTER EPIPHANY
First Sunday after Epiphany (Baptism of the Lord)
Second Sunday after Epiphany to Eighty Sunday after Epiphany
Last Sunday after Epiphany (Transfiguration Sunday)

LENTEN SEASON
Ash Wednesday
First Sunday of Lent to fifth Sunday of Lent
Holy Week
Passion/Palm Sunday
Monday in Holy Week
Tuesday in Holy Week
Wednesday in Holy Week
Holy Thursday
Good Friday
Holy Saturday

PASCHAL (EASTER) SEASON
The Great Paschal Vigil
Pascha Day
Pascha Evening
Second Sunday of Pascha to sixth Sunday of Pascha
Ascension (Sixth Thursday)
Seventh Sunday of Pascha
Pentecost

AFTER PENTECOST
Trinity Sunday (First Sunday after Pentecost)
Sundays after Pentecost
Christ the King (Last Sunday after Pentecost)

How the Practice of the Christian Year Affects Congregational Life

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The way Christians keep time is a way of remembering. In communal worship, we remember and celebrate the events that make us who we are. Consequently, the celebration of the Christian year forms us into Christ’s body in the world.

Among the most remarkable aspects of the twentieth-century reform and renewal of Christian worship is the rediscovery of the church year. Twenty years ago no one could have predicted the extraordinary impact that the scholarship and the theology and practice of the church year would have on our preaching and worship. Every Christian tradition, except for the most narrowly sectarian Protestant churches, has established or proposed a version of the ecumenical new calendar and lectionary. The liturgical churches, of course, have always used calendars and lectionaries to order the worship life of the people. What prompts our reflection here, however, is an unprecedented convergence across denominational lines—including “free churches” and “liturgical churches”—on a basic theology of time represented in the new three-year lectionary.

Protestants are in the process of rediscovering the church year, not as an imposition from “outside,” but as a fundamental feature of authentic Christian worship that was part of Christian and Jewish experience from the beginning. For Judaism and for Christianity, time—and how we keep it—is crucial to faith itself. Why is this so? Because God’s self-revelation is historical and temporal. The events in and through which the living God has chosen to communicate with humankind are historical events. Even more to the point, remembering and proclaiming those events are the heartbeat of all preaching and worship. The community gathered about the Scriptures, the baptismal font, and the Table of the Lord is a community of memory. It keeps time with God by retelling and entering into the meaning and power of those “past” events again and again.

There is a considerable lack of understanding of how the laity enters into the formative and expressive range of the cycles of the church year. How a local congregation appropriates such faith and theological meaning into its ongoing worship and spirituality in common life and ministry is the point at issue.

Keeping Time as Part of Our Human Experience

In one sense time is so obvious but so hidden from us. Our temporality is itself a feature of all human experience. We know that a family gains identity and deepens its life by keeping anniversaries and by knowing how to celebrate well the significant events which mark that family’s history. Birthdays are kept with special rituals and celebrations; but so, too, in healthy families, are memories of deaths, transitions, and the characters and events of family history. At a family reunion, the foods are brought and ordered, the stories of our grandparents, aunts, and uncles are told, the songs and entertainments are performed, and the memories recited and made real.

Eating and drinking together in a family takes time. In everyday life, we come to understand certain matters only after we have had meals on birthdays, after funerals, with all the children home and with them all gone, and during the subtly changing seasons of our lives. How much more, then, is our eating and drinking at the Lord’s Table and our singing and hearing the Word of God this way. The meaning of our eucharistic meal deepens as we mature in the times and places of such gatherings.

The way Christians keep time—or fail to keep time—is a theological expression of what is remembered and lived. “Why do they keep coming, Sunday upon Sunday, year upon year, just to hear me preach, to sing the same songs, and to pray together?” This startling question from a beleaguered pastor opens up our subject to the real issue of congregational faith and life. Why, indeed, do Christians continue, over time, to gather with such regularity? Obligation? Custom? Or could they be searching for a way of opening their temporal lives to God—a search, perhaps, for genuine transformation? The answer is all of the above.

Honest reflection upon the connections between worship and our deeper hunger for God raises a series of theological issues about temporality and the cycles of time that give Christian memory and proclamation its distinctive character. Whatever else our motives may be, human beings come to worship because there is a restlessness for God and a sense, however, obscured, that time and place and life need somehow to be sanctified. The search for holy times and places is itself an expression of a deeper hunger we have for the transformation of our transitory lives. Worship, no matter how dull and routine holds out some hidden promise of sanctification in the very midst of life with all its changes, confusions, suffering, joy, and mystery.

Keeping Time as a Christian Community

The Christian community gathers to remember and to enact its particular identity as those called out by God in Christ. Because all ministries are rooted in the redemptive presence and activity of Christ in the world, the church’s sense of time and place is oriented toward God’s self-giving in the whole person and work of Jesus Christ. Christian worship involves the gathering of a baptized people who are commissioned and empowered to serve the world. Such servanthood does not take place unless the church remembers with the whole sweep of Scripture and is enabled to hope for a real future in light of God’s promises.

How may we speak in our local churches of Christian worship as forming and expressing ordinary people in the mystery of God’s unfolding relationship with us? How can pastors and musicians, and the other liturgical ministries of the laity, enable a congregation to enter more deeply into the rhythms of the church year, the week, and the shape of each day’s prayer and work? Consider a short definition and then let us draw some concrete pastoral applications from this in light of what has already been said.

Christian worship is the ongoing liturgy of Jesus Christ in and through his body in the world. It is the ongoing relationship of love and service between God and the people of God formed in the story of Creation, covenant, prophecy, and the incarnation, death, resurrection, and reign of Christ. Worship is, therefore, something communal because it is our distinctive way of remembering and celebrating who and whose we are. The adequacy of how we sing and pray and are shaped by Word and sacrament requires living with the whole reality of what God has done, in Creation and redemption, and the whole promise of the reign of God in the whole Creation.

Such an account of Christian liturgy shows the mutuality of divine and human dialogue. Christian life together is thus patterned in accordance with the humanity shown in God’s history with us. The faith of the church from its beginnings manifests in its pattern of worship over time an implicitly Trinitarian structure—God the Father made manifest in history and prophecy, and supremely in the events of Jesus Christ—suffering, dying and rising—and in the Holy Spirit indwelling and making alive the community of those who believe. The early church remembered Jesus especially with the keeping of Sunday, the day of creation and of resurrection. The very term “Lord’s Day” had become a Christian term for the first day of the week by the early second century. Sunday was and is in essence, a weekly anniversary of the Resurrection. But it takes time for all such a claim means to be unfolded. This is the domain of the church year.

The temporal pattern of the year and the reading, preaching, singing, and hearing of God’s Word over time itself witnesses to the holy history of God’s act focused on the unfolding story of Christ’s redeeming life, teachings, dying, and rising. The center point for the church was and is the Christian Passover—the Easter Pasch—which we celebrate as the three days at the climax of Holy Week. This, in turn, is approached by remembering our mortality and by preparing ourselves for the renewal of the baptismal covenant at Easter. The two other great feasts in the early church were Epiphany and Pentecost. The new ecumenical lectionary and calendar recover the relationship between Easter and Pentecost in the “Great Fifty Days” as a time of the outpouring of the Spirit.

Entering into the rhythms of the church year thus implies that our musical experiences sensitively unfold this. By working carefully together, pastors and musicians can provide an extraordinary opportunity for the congregation to “live into” the unfathomable riches of the cycles of Christian time. This implies that entering into the cycles of the liturgical year is a way of unfolding and exploring the gospel itself: opening the treasury of who Jesus is and what he does in and through a human community called forth to conversion and transformation. So we enter Advent/Christmas/Epiphany precisely as a way of expectation, reception, and the manifestation of the love of God in human form. But in so doing, the Scripture itself opens new dimensions of reality to us. The same is true of Lent/Easter/Pentecost. In this case, the central mystery of participation in the death and resurrection of Christ is at the heart of the journey.

Far from “playing church,” a genuine entry into these two focal cycles of the Christian year, with the interconnection of Old and New Testament and the treasury of the church’s prayer and song, provides the very pattern of the Christian life itself. This is why the pastor’s understanding of the cycles of time and the ability to guide the church’s worship through such feasts and seasons is itself a spiritual discovery. Because the community of faith and each faithful person continue to experience the changes of life—growth, suffering, joy, passages of various kinds, and death—the liturgical year is never the same. For our lives are constantly being reinterpreted into the story of God with us. In this manner, “Keeping time with Jesus” may never fall into a habitual routine or empty cycles of ceremony. Rather, in and through such remembrance and retelling, our very lives are given significance and a deeper sense of time and place.

Keeping Time “Between the Times”

But this leads us to a further aspect of the spirituality of the cycles of time. There is a tension that is part of the intrinsic nature of the Gospel claim itself. Christianity claims that the Messiah has come, ushering in the new age and opening up a way into the Kingdom of God. At the same time, the world and our human existence go on. Empires still rise and fall; there is birth and suffering and human passage and death. There is the already of death and resurrection and the salvation from sin and death, but there is unmistakably the not yet. The rule and reign of God have not fully come into human history. So we live between the times. This tension is the permanent feature of Christian worship and of the Christian life. The ongoing liturgy of Christ in the world still calls us to journey and to serve a broken, suffering world. The sanctification of time and place and human life cannot be possessed apart from the concrete world of human experience. Yet authentic Christian worship is a time and a place of remembering and rehearsing and proclaiming what is yet to be, while all the time being about the work of redemptive love, mercy, and justice among the human family.

Not only the year as the arena of sanctification but the week and the day as well, are part of the discipline and discovery of the spiritual life. The early church took the week, with the Lord’s Day at its beginning and end, as the most significant liturgical cycle. For Sunday—the day of Creation and of resurrection from the dead, the “first day” and the “eighth day”—was the paradigm of the gathering in the Spirit. Christians celebrated the Eucharist every Lord’s Day as the pattern for orienting all other times, including the liturgy of the hours for the sanctification of the day and the feasts and seasons in which Word and Eucharist reflected the unfolding of the larger story of salvation.

The pastor and musicians must therefore offer the treasury of this tradition to contemporary Christians. To be a community of living memory is thus to desire to live in light of who God in Christ is: his advent and birth, his appearance and death, and his resurrection, ascension, and life-giving Spirit is given to the community of faith. Within this discipline of time, we live with the symbols, the sign-actions of God in baptism and Eucharist, and the works of love and mercy.

The Origins of the Christian Year

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In the first centuries A.D. the cycle of Christian time grew out of the conviction that all-time finds its meaning in the death and resurrection of Christ. Thus the early Christians, beginning with the paschal event, extended the Christian calendar forward to Pentecost and backward to Lent and Holy Week. Later, in the fourth century, Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany were developed to complete the cycle.

The Easter Cycle

In the first days of the life of the church following Pentecost, there is no indication of any observance of special times. However, it is clear that by the time of Paul’s ministry it had become customary for local communities to gather for the breaking of bread on the first day of the week, and it has been suggested that occurred after sundown ending the Sabbath (see Acts 20:7–12). By the end of the first century, the observance of the first day by common worship seems established, as was the observance of the fourth and sixth days of the week with fasting (see Didache, chaps. 1 and 14.) For most of the church, this shaping of the week sufficed, and one week was like every other. The Gentile church had no reason to adopt the major annual festivals of Judaism. However, it seems likely that the community in Jerusalem continued to observe Passover, with its day of preparation a memorial of the death of Jesus. This community was largely dispersed following the destruction of the city by Titus, and our earliest evidence for the annual observance of Passover by Christians comes from Asia Minor. For example in the Epistula Apostolorum, 15, a document assigned to Asia Minor in the second century (perhaps the first half of the century), the risen Christ is presented as addressing the apostles in the following words:

And you, therefore, celebrate the remembrance of my death, i.e., the Passover; then will one of you be thrown into prison for my name’s sake, and he will be very grieved and sorrowful, for while you celebrate the Passover, he who is in custody did not celebrate it with you. And I will send my power in the form of my angel, and the door of the prison will open, and he will come out and come to you to watch with you and to rest. And when you complete my Agape and my remembrance at the crowing of the cock, he will again be taken and thrown in prison for a testimony, until he comes out to preach, as I have commanded you.

In Asia Minor, the preparation of the Passover (the fourteenth day of the first spring month, Nisan) was observed with fasting, and a vigil was kept through the night of Jewish feasting until cockcrow when the observance was ended with a simple Eucharist. When it became difficult to observe the day according to the Jewish calendar, which was adjusted as needed by rabbinical authorities, some Christians in Asia Minor adopted the local version of the Julian calendar and kept their Passover on the fourteenth day of its first spring month, Artemisios. When the capital of the empire moved to Constantinople in the fourth century, the Roman calendar was adopted in Asia Minor, and we encounter its designation of 14 Artemisios, April 6, as a fixed date associated with Pascha (the Aramaic word for Passover adopted by Christians). By the third century in the West, on the other hand, the historical date of the Lord’s death had been computed to have been March 25.

The emperor Hadrian rebuilt Jerusalem in 132, and all the circumcised, including Christians, were forbidden to enter the new city, Aelia, built upon the rubble of the old. With the expulsion of Jewish Christians, Gentile bishops came to assume leadership of the Jerusalem church. It is believed that it was this mixing of Gentile leadership with local Jewish Christian custom that led to the observance of the paschal fast on Sabbath and the vigil through the night from Sabbath to the Lord’s Day, with the concluding Eucharist in the early hours of Sunday morning, in accordance with prevailing Gentile custom. So the annual Passover became Easter Sunday. For many in the second century, the annual paschal fast on Sabbath was joined to the weekly fast on Friday to yield a two-day fast, and in the following century, both Syria and Egypt yield evidence of the further extension of the paschal fast to six days, the “Holy Week” still known to us.

In the second century, we encounter significant evidence that the celebration of our Lord’s triumph, begun with the Eucharist that terminated the paschal fast, was extended for fifty days, called the Pentecost. This was probably derivative from the counting of fifty days to the Feast of Weeks in Judaism, but it took on a distinctive Christian character as a period of rejoicing during which fasting and kneeling in prayer were considered inappropriate. During the third century this period, but especially Pascha itself, came to be considered the most appropriate time for baptism, and in some churches, the immediately preceding weeks were devoted to the preparation of candidates for that rite. After the Council of Nicea (A.D. 325) that period was extended to the forty days we know as Lent.

The Christmas Cycle

The date of our Lord’s birth is not known, and the Gospels are clearly indifferent to the question. Mark, indeed, does not mention the Nativity and is content to present the baptism in Jordan as the beginning of the gospel. Around the turn of the second to the third century, Clement of Alexandria reports that some Basilideans celebrated the baptism on January 6, and there is reason to believe that he associated this same date with the birth of Jesus. This would be just nine months after the paschal date of April 6, and some of the early paschal homilies in Asia Minor speak not only of the Lord’s passion and resurrection but also of the Incarnation and so of the conception in the womb of the virgin. By the fourth century, we know that the date of the Lord’s death had been taken to be that of the conception as well, allowing the setting of the Nativity date nine months later. As January 6 appeared in the East as that nativity date, so by the early fourth century (or earlier) December 25 was recognized as the nativity date in the West. That was also the date of a pagan festival, the Birthday of the Invincible Sun, instituted by the emperor Aurelian in A.D. 274. The relationship between the new Roman festival and the Christian association of the birth of the Lord with the same date remains disputed. Some believe that Christians chose the date already celebrated and recast it as the birthday of the Sun of Righteousness. Others suppose the Christian date to have been arrived at independently by computation from March 25, established as the date of the Lord’s death (and conception?) long before Aurelian’s festival.

In the course of the fourth century, the two festivals of the Nativity of Christ (December 25) and the Epiphany (January 6) were mutually adopted in East and West. In the East, Epiphany celebrated both Christ’s birth and baptism in the Jordan. In the West, however, the Matthean nativity narrative was divided, and the January 6 festival celebrated the visit of the Magi, leading to the restricted understanding of Epiphany as “the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles.”

Not until the sixth century did there appear the fast before Christmas, a fast of forty days progressively shortened at Rome to the four Sundays of Advent, which we now know as the opening season of the Christian year.