The Advent Blues

January 8, 2025

Amidst the full swing of Advent, here at Watts, we are taking some time to reflect on the colours that shape this pivotal new beginning in the liturgical calendar. As the most wonderful time of year, Christmas is known globally for its importance of colour; this is no different in our churches.

As seasons dictate, the trees shed their leaves, and we shed the green of Ordinary Time. However, what we change the colours of vestments and furnishings is often debated. While some advocate for purple, typically violet, others prefer the choice of blue, known as Sarum blue. As a result, Advent can be an exciting opportunity to explore the differing historical lineages and potential liturgical meanings behind the two choices of colour.

Of course, what colours are appropriate and when in the Liturgical calendar is part of a much longer tradition.

The Ecclesiastical History of Theodoret is the earliest-known consideration of a particular vestment to reflect alternative liturgical function, recording the ‘sacred robe…fashioned with golden threads’ given by Constantine to Bishop Macarius of Jerusalem for use at baptisms.

We see specific colours being considered later in the Fourth Century by Jerome. In his Dialogi contra Pelagianos, Jerome references shining white garments worn by celebrants at the Eucharist. This expands to a multiple-colour sequence by the Ninth Century, as instructed in the Ordo of St. Amand, using a dark chasuble for the Greater Litanies and black vestments on the Feast of the Purification.

On much more familiar ground, by 1198, Pope Innocent III introduced the first rule of liturgical colours in his De sacro altaris mysterio; outlining how white, red, black and green might enhance the theological meaning of key periods in the liturgical calendar.

White: for use on the Feasts of the Lord as a symbol of purity.
Red: for use during feasts of the holy cross, martyrs, apostles, and at Pentecost as a symbol of the blood of Passion.
Black: for use on fasting days, commemorations of the departed, Advent and Lent, as a symbol of mourning.
Green: to be worn on days other than the specified colours, this was to differentiate from the distinctive features of the additional colours.

Noticeably, violet - the colour most will associate with as an early colour for Advent - is absent.

Instead, Innocent III associates black with Advent in Rome up to Christmas Eve as a contemplation of mourning for the end times. The evocative starkness encapsulated by the choice black can be seen in our Newman Cope. Executed in our Davenport damask, the absence of colour reminds us of a world without God’s light, the depth and weight of the cope reflective of Innocent III’s liturgies of Advent.

This overtly sombre tone is also captured in Innocent III’s other uses for black, such as funerals. In a 1460 manuscript leaf from the Morgan Library Collection, this use of black is self-explanatory. With a corpse being lowered into the earth, beside the grave, two tonsured priests wear black copes in honour of this mournful, but transitional, occasion.

Poignantly, both copes a trimmed with elements of gold detailings - as those of us who work with and wear gold will know, these details will naturally glint and capture light, no matter how limited it is. These details are also seen in the outline orphreys of Gold 'Burford' braid and hood trimmed with Gold Rayon fringe in our Newman Cope, and suggest a glimmer of hope. Just as the small figure of a resurrected soul is raised to the heavens for its re-birth, in the upper right of the manuscript leaf, black vestments at Advent will also anticipate birth; the birth of Christ and the light he will shed on the world. Much in the same ways as a funeral, here, the Newman Cope evocatively presents a death before The Birth. It is this tradition that is anticipated by the later colours of violet and Sarum blue.

As Innocent III’s codex disseminated, William Durandus, Bishop of Mende, invigorated Innocent III’s rule via the Rationale divinorum officiorum. In Book 2, Durandus outlines the importance of clergy’s garments and equipment, including the liturgical colours. Here, instead of black for Advent, Durandus gives violet as a black-adjacent replacement in the Roman church, leading to a more wide-scale adoption within the Fourteenth Century.

However, as is understood from the Late Fourteenth Century Dean, Radulph of Rivo, this was not a definitive adjustment. Radulph found the new ways of the Roman rite to be lacking. In defence of returning to more traditional Christianity, he records that black for Advent was, once again, being used in the Rome rite. Ultimately, black and violet became interchangeable and equally liturgically synonymous with Advent.

These Late Medieval fluctuations in colour highlight an argument that is not too dissimilar from our modern debate in favour of violet or Sarum blue.

Indeed, uniformity in coloured vestments was not adopted en-mass in Europe until well until the Sixteenth Century. Most countries and regions, and some religious orders, functioned with a local rite rather than that of Rome; for example, the Florentine rite in Italy or the Dominicans etc. This greater variety of rites in the High Middle Ages presented complexities for having a set of established liturgical colours for specific seasons, demonstrating flexibility in the choice of colour used to symbolise Advent that we still embrace today.

It was not until the 1570 Ordo Missae promulgated by Pius V that the Church was supplied with an ecumenical instrument of liturgical unity for vestments.

Like those of Innocent III, the liturgical colours outlined by Pius V were white/gold, red, violet, purple, green and black. Through Pius V’s reforms, violet was asserted as a liturgical colour in its own right, distinctly separated from the use of black.

Traditionally, black was associated with mourning, penance, and death. Specifically for Advent, the use of black recognised the solemnity of the Christ child born to die and the darkness before the birth of Christ. As such, in moving to the use of a lighter colour of violet, the finality of black was reconsidered in favour of Advent as a period of penitence but also preparation for the coming of Christ. Discussion on the liturgical symbolism of violet can be interpreted with soft optimism, retaining the darker shadow of the black but not the same mute finality. After all, sin is not absolute and without the light of grace. As such, violet offers a quiet hopefulness befitting the liturgy of Advent.

This liturgical interpretation of Advent is elicited in the Old English Advent poem, Christ, I :

As you, God born readily from God,

Son of the True Father, were ever

without beginning in the glory of the sky,

so now needfully your own creation

abides you faithfully, so that you send us

the bright sun, and that you come yourself

to illuminate those who for the longest time,

shrouded in shadow and in darkness here,

reside in the everlasting night—

enfolded in our sins, they have had to endure

the dark shadows of death.

Here, un-mistakably, the sober thoughtfulness of Advent still looms in the shrouded shadows. With rich imagery, the c.800 AD poem captures a world of darkness anticipating the coming illumination of Christ’s Divine light. In short, the bright sun is soon to dawn.

This mood is evocatively captured in our Spanish Cope in Purple 'Genoa' with Outline Orphreys. The choice of red-based violet silk contrasted with the bright gold 'Blenheim' braid recognises this renewed understanding of the Late Sixteenth Century tradition.

Echoing that of Titian’s, Madonna of San Niccolò dei Frari, there is a brooding melancholy to the violet silk. But, with the rich floral ‘Genoa’ design and the gold braiding, there are vivacious accents to the design that lift the darkness of the silk, reflective of a hopefulness in the days preceding the birth of Christ. Much like an evening sky, the darkness of the silk paired with these glimmers of gold, hints at the light brought by the birth of Christ.

We have previously discussed the importance of purple as a liturgical colour and its meaning in Lent.

Owing to the loss of the dying process of the Imperial Tyrian Purple after the conquest of Constantinople in 1453, the production of violet as a liturgical colour was much more variable. Namely, there were two different shades produced from the same colour. With one being more blue and the other being more red, the choice of violet enabled a subtle difference in the final colour of the fabric. With time, this emphasised the difference between Lent and Advent.

By the 19th century, some opted to make this difference more clearly defined with the so-called “Sarum Blue.” Despite what the name suggests, blue was not used for Advent in the pre-Reformation Sarum rite - likely Murray red, and later black, were used in Salisbury. However, shades of blue (not the single shade that has come to be known today) for Advent did hold unprecedented popularity in England, with the most notable being the rites of Exeter, Lichfield and Westminster. It was part of this English aesthetic that blue was revived as part of the en-mass Gothic Revival movement in the Nineteenth Century.

In particular, Percy Dearmer, in his infamous Parson’s Handbook, was a driving force behind the resurgence of the use of the colour blue for Advent:

‘The common idea is that only those four colours which are casually mentioned in the Sarum books were used,—white, red, yellow, and (in some MSS.) black. But the inventories show that in Salisbury cathedral itself there were in 1222 vestments of Violette, Purpurea, de Serico Indico (of blue silk); in 1462 altar-cloths of purple, blue and black, white and blue, chasubles of purple and blue, altar-cloths and vestments of red and green; in 1536, three green copes and five chasubles, with tunicles, etc., of green; while the inventories, taken in the very year 2nd Edward VI., to which our Rubric refers us, give the vestments of the chantries in the cathedral as of ‘white, red, blue, green, black, purple, motley, of blue black and white combined, and “braunched of dyverse colours,” with white for Lent.’

As part of his call to return to the Old Ways, Dearmer argues that blue heavily featured in these pre-Reformation vestments and fittings. He even astutely points out that, historically, violet vestments would also have taken on a blue hue, as is explained by the earlier-mentioned complications with dying methods. So, the revival of blue was not so much a departure from the traditional violet but more of a national hue.

With time, Sarum or Advent blue has added to the liturgical symbolism of Advent, often argued to evoke the transition between darkness and light. This is perfectly reflected in our Continental Chasuble in Blue 'Bellini' with Sapphire 'Crevelli' Orphreys. Executed in a rich blue silk damask with a pillar of Sapphire ‘Crevelli', with references to the Altarpiece of the Master of St. Bartholomew, the chasuble is a celebration of difference that sings in harmony with the changes Advent brings. Especially for those who want to embrace the difference of blue, this chasuble can be an exciting option, as it uses an archive pattern that blends French and Spanish forms to create a unique profile.

As the word advent - from the Latin meaning to come - suggests, there can be an expectant jubilation to this season. For those wishing to depart from the solemnity of violet, our Latin Chasuble in Blue/Gold 'Memlinc' with Outline Orphreys could be an excellent alternative. Constructed of a Blue & Gold 'Memlinc' with outline orphreys of 1" Old Gold 'Diamond & Lay Braid’ and lined win Gold cotton sateen, this chasuble is impactful and befitting for the festive spirit.

However, those who wish to retain the traditional solemnity of Advent need not feel entirely adverse to blue. Our Westminster Cope in Blue 'Coronation' with Embroidered IHS Hood will feel much more familiar in terms of liturgical tonality to our earlier mentioned violet Spanish Cope. With the choice of a deep sapphire velvet for both the hood stole, and the light of the blue and gold damask, this piece evokes the duality associated with violet.

Indeed, far from entirely separate from the tradition of using violet, blue can make the symbolism of dark before the light more overt, just as violet first alluded to when shifting from black in the Sixteenth Century.

Whether you choose blue or violet for your Advent, both colours are rich in ambiguity as we pause to wait for the birth of Christ and the light He will shine as a result. It is this richness of duality in Advent that remains important in our vestments, as is summed up neatly in the poem Christmas Eve by Christina Rosetti:

CHRISTMAS hath darkness

Brighter than the blazing noon,

Christmas hath a chillness

Warmer than the heat of June,

Christmas hath a beauty

Lovelier than the world can show:

For Christmas bringeth Jesus,

Brought for us so low.

Earth, strike up your music,

Birds that sing and bells that ring;

Heaven hath answering music

For all Angels soon to sing: