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Liturgical Freedom and Pre-Lent

Epiphany Season and the Gesimas in New Orleans

The Rev. David Petersen’s excellent recent post about Pre-Lent made me think about the oft-levied false charge that Gottesdienst approaches liturgical tradition in a legalistic way.

Fr. Petersen points out that Pre-Lent is handled differently by different congregations, and that his parish, Redeemer Lutheran Church, Fort Wayne, Indiana, has decided among the various options:

In some places one will read that the ceremonies of the Gesima Sundays are identical in every way to the first three Sundays of Lent/ Pre-Lent then essentially begins Lent two and half weeks before Ash Wednesday. The “Alleluias” and Greater Gloria are dropped and the color is violet.

In Service Book and Hymnal (1959), however, the rubric calls for green paraments. Redeemer in Fort Wayne has chosen to follow this and also to retain the more festive musical setting of Healey Willan in order to make the transition into Lent more gradual and also to keep Lent proper distinct.

One of the beautiful things about the traditional liturgy is its flexibility when it comes to regional custom and parochial prerogatives. Some churches see Pre-Lent as almost an extension of the penitential season, whereas the parish of Redeemer treats it as a step-down from the festive Christmas/Epiphany season, a transitional phase to Ash Wednesday and Lent.

Both alternatives have historical precedent, and indeed we are free to adapt our common liturgical heritage taking into account local traditions and variations.

My parish, Salem Lutheran Church, is in Gretna, Louisiana - just outside of New Orleans. We use the one-year lectionary, and approach the three week Gesima mini-season according to our local custom.

In our region, we celebrate the festive season of Carnival, which begins on Epiphany, reaches a crescendo on the eve of Ash Wednesday, and ends abruptly with the beginning of Lent. Carnival is a farewell (“vale”) to flesh or meat (“carne”). It is the traditional opportunity to say “farewell to meat” by emptying out the larder and using up those foods which will be given up during the Lenten fast. Thus it is a natural time of feasting, of using up the meat and butter and sweets. The day before Ash Wednesday, the celebrations reach a pinnacle, and is known as Fat Tuesday (“Mardi Gras”).

In New Orleans and the entire region, Carnival is filled with parades and parties - especially during the final two weeks of Pre-Lent, and most especially on Mardi Gras itself. Schools close for the entire week. Families attend parades all around the city, dressing in costumes, and feasting. Contrary to popular depiction by Pietist scolds, our ubiquitous traditional celebrations are family-friendly (with the exception of the inebriated tourists on Bourbon Street). There are very old customs, such as masquerade balls, champagne toasts, and the election of mock royalty. This is an inescapable part of our local culture, and it is tied to the church calendar. Houses that often fly the U.S. flag are often seen with a temporary replacement - a tricolor purple, green, and gold banner with a crown in the middle. Some people leave their Christmas trees up and decorate them for Mardi Gras.

Throughout the weeks of Carnival, it is customary to eat “king cake” (and lots of it!). King cake is usually a type of large round cinnamon cake decorated in the Carnival/Mardi Gras colors of purple, green, and gold. A small plastic baby is hidden in the cake. Whoever receives the piece with the baby is on the hook to purchase the next cake for the next party (assuming that he hasn’t choked on the baby). The next party might even be tomorrow. By Ash Wednesday, everyone typically has king cake fatigue and a paunch to work off. The Baby King, of course, represents our Blessed Lord, and is tied directly to Epiphany and the gifts of the magi.

I have never found the official explanation of the Mardi Gras colors: purple, green, and gold, to be very satisfying. My suspicion is that it has its origins in the liturgical colors spanning the seasons between Epiphany and Easter. I have no evidence of this; it is just a hunch.

So considering the local customs in our region, in my parish, Pre-Lent is not a gradual ramping down of the festival half of the church year looking toward Ash Wednesday. Rather, it is a ramping up, a conscious feast before the fast. Instead of going a little lower by steps until Ash Wednesday, rather we climb up higher and higher, and then throw ourselves down the staircase at midnight as Ash Wednesday begins. Gradualism is not in our vocabulary. And so we use green (not purple) for Pre-Lent, and we retain the Alleluias, etc. For us, there is nothing penitential about Pre-Lent; in fact, it is the opposite. The way we approach Pre-Lent is to see it as a stark contrast between feast and fast.

In the French Quarter, ground zero of the Mardi Gras spectacle, there is a symbolic and traditional nod to Ash Wednesday and Lent. At midnight, the streets are cleared of the vast crowds of people, and the street-cleaners follow behind. Within a day or two, you would never know there was anything unusual happening. Ash Wednesday is a popular day on the church calendar in our heavily-Roman Catholic area. Again, the schools are all closed. It is common to see ashen foreheads all day. Lent itself has great significance in our region, as even Protestant churches commonly host Friday fish-fries. Of course, there are also workarounds, as the Roman Catholic archbishop has ruled that alligator meat is not meat (it is counted as seafood for purposes of fasting), and, lets face it, a steaming plate of crawfish or seafood isn’t exactly boiled potatoes and crusty bread. Restaurants often feature “Lenten Specials” of fried catfish complete with desserts. Not everyone is observant.

But to Christians in our region who live the liturgical life, the sudden transition between the joyful feasting, that goes on for several weeks, followed by the immediate descent into Ash Wednesday and the penitential season of Lent, there is great poignancy. It is a different way of viewing Pre-Lent, but one that itself has centuries of tradition on its side.

Meanwhile, for Pre-Lent, we say, “Laissez les bons temps rouler!