Tag Archives: colour

Colouring the world with love

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After receiving the visit from the angel Gabriel announcing to her that she would bear the Christ child, Mary came in haste to meet with her cousin and friend, Elizabeth. In the midst of conversations between people – the angel and Mary, then Elizabeth and Mary (Luke 1:39-55) — the word of God comes. The Word doesn’t come outside of a conversation.

I read recently a definition for the Word made flesh as Conversation (Loorz, 2021). Yes, conversation. God speaks existence into being (Genesis 1-2). God creates by issuing forth a word.

But then that Word needs to be received. That word needs a response in order to take root and grow. The Word of God, Jesus Christ, as the Great Conversation, is given and received. The first Christmas didn’t happen without conversation, lovingly given and lovingly received. God spoke Christmas into being.

As they say, the world is black and white until you fall in love. Then you see the world in colour. In her book entitled Love in Colour cataloguing love stories and myths from around the world, Bolu Babalola (2021) wrote, “Love is the prism through which I see the world.”

If we will keep Christ in Christmas then we need to start with love, because “God so loved the world that He gave his only Son” (John 3:16).

Speaking of colours, then, what is your favourite Christmas colour? Red and green likely top the list. Others like white with gold. The classic debate in households is whether to go with multi-coloured lights on the tree or stick with pin-prick white to mimic the stars in the sky. Or, mix them all together? Which do you prefer?

Blue is the colour now used in churches during the season before Christmas, the season called Advent. The colour blue is an interesting choice. Why, blue? At this time of year when the days are short, we hear the colour blue perhaps associated more with our mood – the winter blues.

Some believe blue is the colour of Advent because it represents the colour of the sky at the time of Jesus’ birth (Coman, 2024). The 13th century Italian artist, Giotto, tried to replicate blue in his depiction of the nativity:

https://www.worldhistory.org/image/12682/the-nativity-by-giotto/

We see blue whenever we look up and far into the distance towards the horizon where sea and sky meet. Looking into the distance likely means we are, from the perspective of feet on the ground, looking at a whole lot of blue, pointing us to the limitless expanse of the universe. And so, blue is the colour of hope, yearning and longing.

Yet, here on earth the colour blue is extremely rare in nature. Less than 10% of all plant species are blue and even so, most of the time their blue is an optical illusion.

It’s an optical illusion created by the refraction of light against what is actually red pigment. The only plant with genuinely blue leaves lives on the floor of the rainforest in South America.

But what really stands out is that while all other plant material changes colour when it dies, blue flowers are the only flowers that retain their colour in death. They retain their colour in death – maybe to remind the world that they haven’t gone away, that they have made their mark, that they, in some way we can’t explain or see with our eyes, live on. Blue is then also the colour of steadfastness. From everlasting to everlasting.

In the end, as we still walk by faith on this planet, it really doesn’t matter what colour you prefer. It doesn’t matter whether the Advent candles are all red or all blue, or all purple or some purple and one pink, or all blue and one white or all white.

The important thing is that you know why you are using the colours you are using. What is the story behind the colours you use? And how do those colours reflect a part of the Christmas story surrounding the arrival of God and God’s love to this earth?

Today we lit the fourth and final candle on the wreath. This fourth candle is called the Love candle. When we know why we do certain things, we can then appreciate why others do it differently. We practice love. What are the reasons they have for the choices and decisions they make – regarding their traditions, their background stories?

We don’t love because others start behaving as we do. Love isn’t about making others conform to our way of doing things. Instead, love is appreciating and being genuinely curious about where the other person is coming from, and letting them know it!

And that’s how we respond in love. That’s how we keep the conversation going. Loving others is behaving in ways and saying things in order to keep the conversation going. The goal at Christmas is to love. The Christmas story lives in us when we keep the conversation going, when we don’t shut it down.

Mary said yes to the angel’s Word from God. Her heart opened even though her mind must have had many questions. Her heart expanded to include the Word of God into her life. She kept the great conversation of God’s love going in her. And her responses in love got the whole ball rolling. And Christmas happened. Thanks be to God!

References:

Babalola, B. (2021). Love in colour: Mythical tales from around the world, retold. William Morrow.

Coman, S. (2024). Seeds of hope: Day 5. Lutherans Connect. https://lcseedsofhope.blogspot.com/2024/12/day-5.html

Loorz, V. (2021). Church of the wild: How nature invites us into the sacred. Broadleaf.

The Pilate problem and the gift of God’s perfect action

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In Pilate’s actions (Matthew 27:11ff) we witness how we can be so divided, inside ourselves, between what we believe/what we say — and what we end up doing.

Pilate is convinced Jesus is innocent. He tries all manner of techniques — appealing to tradition to free one prisoner, even having Jesus flogged — all in order to keep him from being crucified. Even Pilate’s wife intervenes to try convincing Pilate to release Jesus.

And for this we can sympathize with Pilate. We can appreciate the political struggle. He is caught between a rock and a hard place: He can use his authority to do the ‘right’ thing but incur the wrath of the crowds and incite rebellion; or, he can do the ‘wrong’ thing but keep political stability in the occupied territories, not to mention his job.

Self-preservation seems to be a guiding motivation for Pilate. But, in the end, when all has been said and done, we hang our heads low in confession that Pilate failed. In contrast to the bloodied and tortured man that stood across from him, he was no man of integrity.

When Pilate washes his hands, he does so symbolically making himself innocent from the crucifixion of Jesus. But Pilate deludes himself from taking responsibility as the governor of the region; because, in truth, the authority to condemn someone to death rested on his shoulders. Even though he washes his hands to try to rid his conscience of the truth, he is culpable. Ironic, isn’t it, that in John’s gospel, Pilate asks Jesus, “What is truth?” (John 18:38)

We have heard the saying that not doing anything is doing something. There is no such thing as ‘abstaining from life’. Whether this problem is manifested in pretending not to see something happen on the road or in the mall that would require us to take a risk to help someone in need; whether self-preservation motivates us to hide or run away when what is called upon is our help; when we ignore a text or email from someone because what they say exposes us or asks us to deal with an uncomfortable truth.

These are some examples of the Pilate problem showing up in our lives — when we delude ourselves into believing there can be no significant consequence from our inaction; when we deceive ourselves into not doing anything, as a strategy for dealing with a difficult situation that requires our attention and action; when we fool ourselves to think that by ignoring someone or something we are doing some good.

Not doing anything is doing something. The question then, is: What is ‘doing nothing’ actually doing? Is not doing anything making the problem worse? Is not doing anything keeping people stuck in unhealthy habits and relationships? Is not doing anything enabling evil to accomplish its diabolic purposes?

We compulsively lay judgement on our’s and others’ actions that result in bad things; these are traditionally known as the sins of commission. But how much have we considered bad things that have resulted in not doing anything at all? The sins of omission are failure to do what one can.

This Good Friday is a good time to reflect personally on what our action, and our inaction, actually accomplishes in our families, marriages, our workplaces and church. More than what our words say, what does our behaviour communicate? Because when it’s all been said and done, our lives are a testimony to our actions.

As Dumbledore advised Harry Potter — in J.K. Rowling’s popular children’s books: “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

Who God truly is, was shown no more clearly and profoundly than in the Passion of Christ. But ‘Passion’ is not passive. God is doing something in the Passion of Christ. And there’s no way Pilate knew what was afoot — what his waffling was actually leading to, in God’s great work. So, in the end, the Passion story is not about the failure of Pilate, Peter, Judas and the deserting disciples. In the end, this is a story whose principle character is God, in Jesus Christ.

What does Jesus do, before Pilate? You will note that Jesus remained predominantly silent throughout his trial (Matthew 27:11-14). It’s not about what he says. Though he admits he could have called upon his disciples to fight to save him (John 18:36), though he confesses he is “the king of the Jews”, he knows what he must do.

When it’s all been said and done, Jesus against certain torture, mutilation and humiliation, had aligned his inner compass on true north. He was “a man despised and dejected” (Isaiah 53:3). But because he never wavered in his actions at the end, God “allotted him a portion with the great” (Isaiah 53:12).

God, in Jesus, showed us that our God is trustworthy, faithful and true to us, no matter how dire the consequence or even how divided in our lives we are. Nothing will stop God from trying to reach out to us in love. God, if anything, is persistent. God in Christ Jesus is, in the famous words of 19th century English poet Francis Thompson, the “hound of heaven”, who wont stop at anything to accomplish what is good, and what is right.

After all, when it’s all been said and done, nothing we can say nor do can even come close to what God accomplished on the Cross.

In this Good Friday liturgy, we have been focusing on the symbols of the Passion of Christ, culminating in the Cross, which is of greatest value in Christianity.

In the German, Lutheran tradition of worship on Good Friday, special effort is made to emphasize and cover as much as possible with the colour black.

In late medieval times, the colour black became the popular fashion choice for royalty in Europe. The more common, least expensive methods of pigmentation resulted in a brighter array of colours. But ‘vine black’ — obtained from burning the twigs of grape vines — was according to the 15th century painter, Cennino Cennini, “the perfect colour.”

Hard, laborious work was employed to extract even a little bit of this perfect colour. In order to yield the perfect result on a canvas or in clothing, a sacrifice of comparable worth was made.

Black was gold. Black signified a valuable and, above all, worthwhile expression of faith on “Good” Friday. While the colour black can signal temperance, penitence, sorrow and a mournful mood, it also points to a greatness beyond any human effort. This colour, as a symbol of faith on Good Friday, points to the greatest, most perfect, sacrifice of love by God that yields the greatest power, even over death itself.

God is not passive. God doesn’t sit around. God is active. That is why we adore the Cross — to symbolize the ultimate triumph of God.

Let us give thanks this day, that Christ’s action made all the difference in, and changed, the world forever.

Black is Gold

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The black colour is normally associated with the sobriety and austerity of Lent. Priests, pastors and worship decor are draped in the ashen dark to remind us of our common mortality. The visual symbols enwrapped in black point to the crucified Christ and the path of suffering and death.

I think some of us who wear the black clerical shirts year round do so mindful of the unimaginative simplicity and seeming pedestrian quality of this colour.

In the German tradition of worship on Good Friday, special effort is made to emphasize and cover as much as possible with the colour black. In the common understanding of this practice, we have taken this to mean ‘black is mournful’. Indeed, do we not wear black at funerals? And is not Good Friday about the death of Jesus?

We therefore come to worship on Good Friday with heads hung low, faces heavy with sadness, shuffling mournfully down the aisle. An interpretation about the colour black has led to this predominantly sorrowful approach to Good Friday worship.

While I appreciate a collectively mindful appreciation of Jesus’ self-giving sacrifice, I’ve also appreciated a colleague’s clarification of the history of manufacturing black colours in clothing and art. The reason behind bringing the black colour, especially on Good Friday, stems from pre-industrial, organic processes of pigmentation.

In late medieval times, the colour black became the popular fashion choice for royalty in Europe. The most common, least expensive methods of pigmentation resulted in a brighter array of colours. But ‘vine black’ — obtained from burning the twigs of grape vines — was according to the 15th century painter Cennino Cennini “the perfect colour”.

To extract even a little bit of this perfect colour, hard, laborious work was employed. In order to yield the perfect result on a canvas or in clothing, a sacrifice of comparable worth was made. Thus, the colour black was suited for the observance of Good Friday: Not just so that worshippers would feel dour and down on Good Friday; Not only to inculcate a depressive, mournful mood on Good Friday.

Black was gold. Black indicated a valuable and, above all, worthwhile, expression of faith especially on “Good” Friday. The day’s name suggests another paradox: While black can signal temperance and penitence, it also points to a greatness beyond any human effort — the greatest, most perfect, sacrifice of love by God that yields the greatest power even over death itself.

Worth celebrating. Worth our thanksgiving.