It is already the third Sunday of Advent, and if we had our wreath, it would be the day we light the pink candle. The third Sunday of Advent is “Joy” Sunday and it is intended to remind us of the joy the world experienced at the birth of Jesus as well as the joy that we’ve made it halfway through Advent. The candle is pink because today is technically Gaudete Sunday. That comes from the Latin mass for the 3rd Sunday in Advent which begins “Gaudete in Domino semper, iterum dico gaudete.” This means, “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice.” The traditional color for this day is rose- which the priests wore and which has been translated into the candle colors. It’s intentionally different because it’s meant to be a break in the somber penitence of Advent and a focus on the Joy that comes with the Birth of Christ. Because the color for today is rose, I wanted to talk about the hymn Lo How a Rose E’er Blooming.
“Lo! how a rose e’er blooming” is based on Isaiah 11:1 There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots” and “originally referred to Mary as the rose. Sixteenth-century reformers sought to change the emphasis of the hymn to refer to Jesus” (McKim 49). . Originally stanza 2 interpreted the "rose" as being Mary, mother of Jesus.
The hymn also refers to Isaiah 35: “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They shall see the glory of the Lord, the majesty of our God.”
Neither of the verses in Isaiah specifically mentions a rose, though. And it seems, “The origin of the image of the rose has been open to much speculation. For example, an apocryphal legend has it that on Christmas Eve, a monk in Trier found a blooming rose while walking in the woods, and then placed the rose in a vase on an altar to the Virgin Mary” (Hawn). Other sources have argued that the rose in question is Mary, who is compared to the symbol of the “mystical rose” in Song of Solomon 2:1: “I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys” (Hawn).
The rose itself is a symbol steeped in mysticism and tradition. And while there is not a specific rose mentioned in Isaiah,m t the hymn drawls on, “the beautiful and poetic imagery of the rose that blooms in winter – even in desolation – where none should be able to bloom. The rose as a mystic symbol is a recurring theme in Christianity going back to the Middle Ages. It even appears in Dante’s Divine Comedy as a symbol of God’s love. Many a Catholic cathedral boasts a rose window. In today’s hymn, the rose is a symbol of hope – the impending fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy that a blessing should come to the people, born of the lineage of Jesse, the father of King David and the ancestral origin of Jesus of Nazareth. In a way, it could be interpreted as God being the seed, Jesse the root, Mary the stem, and Jesus the miraculous bloom of hope in a weary and woe-begotten world (Weidendorf).
There is some debate about the origins of the words of the hymn- we know where they were written although we don’t know exactly WHO wrote them. We do know that it was originally written in German, and was known as “Es ist ein Ros entsprungen,” which means a rose has sprung up. “Although the German text is from the 16th century, the Isaiah prophecy has been featured in Christian hymns since the 8th century. At that time, Cosmas the Melodist wrote a hymn about the Virgin Mary flowering from the Root of Jesse (but that is not THIS text). The earliest German text is in a manuscript from the Monastery of St. Alban in Trier, Germany, and is thought to have been in use at the time of Martin Luther”(Longmont Chorale).
The now well-known tune for the hymn was published in a German hymnal in 1599, but it became popular after the composer, Michael Praetorius added harmonies to the hymn in 1609 and published it in his own collection of hymns (Hawn). “Praetorious was the son of a Lutheran minister (pastor Schultze, actually), and he had a special fondness for adapting Roman Catholic music and putting it in Protestant hands. With some modifications, the Rose became Jesus…The Lutheran hymnals all printed the song with [Praetorius’] changes” (Wedgeworth). Interestingly enough Johannes Brahms, yes that Brahms, even used the melody!
And then in 1894, Theodore Baker translated the carol into English and it was printed in the Psalter Hymnal and the United Methodist Hymnal, and then many others after that. It currently appears in about 100 different hymnals, although some of the verses are from other translations of the original 20+ verses.
What strikes me, in all of this is not the imagery of the rose, nor the reference to Isaiah. But this:
It came, a flower bright,
Amid the cold of winter
When half-gone was the night.
There is something beautiful and hopeful about a flower blooming in the snow. It makes me think about the first crocus of spring peeking up through the snow, or the blooming of a Christmas amaryllis, or even a Christmas rose. When I see a flower peeking up through the snow, it is a reminder that there is hope. Hope for spring, and warmth, and renewal. “This single flower emerges, the carol says, out of the cold darkness, one little flash of color in
a vast, colorless desert. One flower does not erase the winter or command the spring, of course. But it signals the life underground, the life to come. Here is your God, it whispers. There is life after all” (Wenderoth).
This little congregation has been like a flower in the snow for me. I thought my ministry was dead, that there was no place for me to bloom or grow as a minister. While there were opportunities here and there to do pulpit supply, I was convinced that I would never minister to a congregation again. And, frankly, I had convinced myself that I didn’t WANT that. I certainly did not expect to have a weekly opportunity to preach and lead worship to come my way and had completely given up on that ever being a part of my life. I believed that God was done with me.
Now, if history has shown me anything, it’s that God is never done working to bring something beautiful into being. Philippians 1:6 puts it this way- “the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.” or, my seminary professor Jerry Sumney put it this way, “In the end God wins. If God didn’t win, then it’s not the end”. So, there, in the winter of my own discontent, thinking God was done with me and there wasn’t a place for me to minister, there was a small bloom of hope.
You.
You have each left an indelible mark on my heart, and being able to create services for you and write sermons for you each week has given voice to a part of me I thought was long gone. We’ve gone through nearly the entire lectionary together. We’ve shared 80 services together. We’ve talked about Genesis and Exodus. We’ve explored prophets. We’ve shared a little of every gospel and we’ve visited a large portion of the psalms. We’ve had Ash Wednesdays and Advents, we’ve had people join us and leave us. We’ve lost our faithful friend Don, and we’ve prayed for families and friends. We’ve shared communion and laughter about the tiny communion cups with the ornery plastic lids. We’ve shared a lot of good together, Good that God knew was the right thing for you and for me. And like a rose in the middle of winter, our time together has been both surprising and sustaining.
This Flower, whose fragrance tender
With sweetness fills the air,
Dispels with glorious splendor
The darkness everywhere.
This congregation has dispelled so much darkness in my life and filled my world with sweetness. You will ever be a rose blooming in my heart, and I am grateful for our time together.
Amen.