The Drama and Rhythm of the Church Year

The Christian Church does not reckon time according to the civil year.  It goes by its own system, called the church year, and its calendar differs in many respects from the civil one.  It is not determined by scientific exactness, but by spiritual experience.  In the civil year, days and seasons are determined by the revolution of the earth about the sun.  In the church year, however, the formative principle is the life and teaching of the Son of Righteousness.

–Luther D. Reed, in Worship, p. 34.

The Greeks had two words for time.  The first, “chronos” (from which we get our word “chronological”) refers to common, ordinary time; the mundane time of everyday chores and routines; the time of waiting, but not really for anything in particular; the time we mark in seconds, minutes, and hours; the time which, all too often, we seek to kill.

But the Greeks had a second word for time, as well: “kairos,” which refers to royal time; the time of potential and possibility, of events and expectancy; the time of meaningful interruptions and significant breakthroughs; the time, most simply, which belongs to God and which is, in fact, filled to overflowing with the presence of God.

The Church Year confronts us with kairotic time. Each and every Lord’s Day it intrudes into the middle of our mundane, chronological days and months with the call of God to be filled and fulfilled by and with the mystery of God, to be transformed by God’s kairos even in the midst of our chronos, and to be swept up into the passionate drama of God’s lavish mercy.

The Church Year gives shape to this kairotic, grace-filled drama by presenting it to us in two parts, or acts.  The first part begins in Advent, as we anticipate the second coming of God in power at the end of time even as we await God’s coming in the vulnerability of a babe wrapped in swaddling rags and placed for warmth in a straw-filled feeding trough.  The drama continues by following Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem, and it reaches its climax during the days and nights of Holy Week and the darkness and disappointment of the cross.  This part of the drama concludes with the reversal of the darkness of Good Friday by light and joy of Easter dawn, a joy that is celebrated over seven weeks.

During this half of the Church Year, called “the season of Christ,” we are caught up into the mystery and power of Christ’s incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection as we not only remember, but also make present and participate in, the redemptive drama of God’s mercy in Christ.

The second half of the year, called “the season of the Church,” presents us with the remaining part of the drama, as it focuses on the task of living in the world as people who have been transformed by the drama of Christ, as people who, in fact, are now major players in the ongoing drama of God’s working out of God’s intention for and toward the world.

This season begins at Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit gives birth to the Church through which God makes known the good news of Christ, and follows the teaching and preaching of Christ to the end of the church year, when we again eagerly await God’s second coming, trusting to recognize in the conquering Christ the King the One who was hanged on a cross for our sake.

Like all good dramas, the church year has a distinctive rhythm, text, props, and actors.  The rhythm of the Christ-drama is uneven, so that the plot does not move by rote but is punctuated by changes in tempo and pace.  And so after the building anticipation of Advent comes the joy of Christmas and the reflection on this revelation in Epiphany.  Similarly, the mounting tension of Lent precedes the passion of Holy Week, the agony of Good Friday, and the triumph of Easter, only to be followed by seven weeks of “unwrapping” this surprising victory and gift.

The gospel readings of our lectionary provide the text for the drama, and they are divided into three years following the narrative of Matthew one year, Mark another, the Luke the third. The Gospel According to John serves to interrupt and enhance these narratives and often provides a reflection or meditation on the dramatic narrative of the other evangelists.

We might say that the props and costumes are the seasons and colors that enhance each year’s performance.  The blue of Advent signifies active preparation and hopeful anticipation.  The white of Christmas and the day of Epiphany, like the white of Easter and All Saints, signifies the purity and righteousness of Christ our Lord.  Purple dominates Lent, as it is the color not only of preparation but also of royalty, as we follow the journey of Christ to his Good Friday throne, where black takes the fore to remind us of the darkness of Christ’s trial and death on our behalf.  Following the white of the resurrection and Easter is the green of the Pentecost season, representing the growth and vitality of the Church.  Red is the color of the Holy Spirit, of fire, and of blood, and is used at Pentecost, Maundy Thursday, Reformation Sunday, and the days on which we remember particular saints.

The actors, finally, are all of us, as we participate again in the drama of our Lord and are both swept up into God’s kairotic time and transformed by God’s redemptive love for God’s people and world.  This Advent we enter once again into the thrilling drama of our Lord, that we might taste, even in the midst of this mundane, ordinary life, the extraordinary and divine goodness of our Lord and Savior.  So as you go to church this season and year, pay attention as the dramatic story of God’s love for us and all the world unfold. But even more, take part, as this is one drama not to be missed.