“The true light, which enlightens
everyone, was coming into the world.” (John
1:9)
December 13, the Third Sunday in Advent in
2020, is also celebrated as the Feast of Saint Lucy. I’m all up for celebrating
Lucy since her name means “Light,” and our Gospel lesson for this Sunday (John
1:6-8, 19-28) tells us that John the Baptist came to testify to the light. This
is also that fun, “pink candle” Sunday called Gaudete or “Rejoice” Sunday. For the past two Sundays we’ve been
anxiously awaiting Jesus to show up, but on Advent Three we get to jazz it up a
little and just be happy knowing he’s on his way. In some churches they not
only light a pink candle, but the paraments on the altar and the pastor’s
vestments are also pink.
(Of course, since the City of Philadelphia’s
COVID-19 restrictions have effectively shut down public worship at Faith, it
really doesn’t matter what I wear this Sunday, does it?)
But back to Lucy. Unfortunately, there’s
not a whole lot to rejoice about in this girl’s story. It’s pretty similar to a
bunch of other martyr stories of young girls in the early Christian church.
Lucy was a Christian girl living in the late third and early fourth century of
the Common Era in Sicily, and she really loved Jesus. Her dad died when she was
young, but left her some money so she could pay a nice dowry and find herself a
rich guy to marry. When she came of age, her mom made a marriage arrangement
with a pagan gentleman, but Lucy wasn’t interested in getting hitched. She
announced that she’d dedicate her life to serving others, offer her perpetual
virginity as a sacrifice to God, and give away all of her inheritance to help
the poor. As you might imagine, this didn’t sit well with her prospective fiancé,
and he complained to the local governor who ordered Lucy to get over herself
and marry the guy or else he’d send her to the local house of ill repute to be
violated. The rest of the details here are rather unpleasant, but the bottom
line is Lucy was martyred on December 13, 304.
So why the pink candle and the rejoicing? Both
Lucy and John the Baptist were martyrs, a word which literally means “witness.”
Our job as Christians, this Sunday and every day—pandemic or no pandemic—is to
be witnesses to the light of Christ. If we are faithful and believe that God
has all of this in hand, we can rejoice even in the crappiest of times. Before
our current Western calendar was set, December 13th had been
observed as the Winter Solstice, the darkest day of the year. In a spirit of
defiant joy, Christians would light candles and sing, knowing that the True
Light was already in this dark world, the light of Jesus who loves us, died for
us, and is always with us.
Whacky traditions which honor this day
have been popular in Scandinavian countries, particularly in Sweden. Young
girls sing in procession, all dressed in white robes tied with red cinctures.
The white symbolizes Lucy’s purity, the red symbolizes her martyrdom. The lead
girl will wear an evergreen wreath with lit candles on her head. Supposedly,
Lucy, while ministering to the poor at night in the days before the flashlight,
wore candles on her head in order to see better. Personally, I don’t recommend
putting open flames on a young girl’s head, but the Swedes seem to be into
this. There’s also a tradition that the oldest daughter in a family should rise
early on December 13th, put on her white robe and red sash, light
the candles on her head, and wake up her household by serving them delicious
sweet breakfast pastries. Hopefully, she doesn’t wake them up by setting herself
on fire!
(By the way, and I’m only guessing about
this, I think the reason Lucy is on our Lutheran liturgical calendar is because
of the Scandinavian ethnic connection. Those countries were probably
celebrating St. Lucy Day before the Reformation, but, when they became
Lutheran, they hated to give up the tradition.)
Whether we celebrate John the Baptist or
Lucy this Sunday, let’s remember the words of John’s Gospel, “The light shines in
the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:5) There is no
better witness for our faith than the irrational, defiant joy of Christ. So light
the lights, get those bakery sweets from McDonald’s, and remember Emmanuel—God with
us.
Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I
say, rejoice!
I miss eighth graders parading around school with creme doughnuts and hot chocolate all with a crown of electric candles. Christmas blessings, dear Pastor.
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