Light Dawns in Darkness
Ludwig Meidner’s Apocalyptic Landscape (1913) bursts onto the canvas with an almost unrelenting chaos. Tumbling buildings, raging skies, and fractured earth create a vision of the world unraveling under the weight of judgment. Painted in the tense years before World War I, Meidner’s expressionist masterpiece reflects a sense of urgency and collapse, resonating deeply with Luke’s apocalyptic imagery: cosmic upheaval, distress among nations, and the gathering storm of divine reckoning.
Yet, for all its wild disarray, Meidner’s work is not without hope. In the whirlwind of fire and fury, there is movement … a strange, violent energy that seems to yearn for renewal. The shattered cityscape points us toward Advent’s paradox: even as we tremble before the Day of the Lord, we watch and wait for Christ’s coming, knowing that God’s judgment prepares the way for his redemptive light.
"Keep awake, therefore, for you do not know when the master of the house will come."
– Mark 13:35
First Sunday in Advent
Texts for This Week
Prayer
Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
Scriptures
Zechariah 14:1–9
Psalm 50
I Thessalonians 3:6–13
Luke 21:25–33
Symphony of Sorrowful Songs
Henryk Górecki’s Symphony No. 3, subtitled the "Symphony of Sorrowful Songs", offers a similar juxtaposition of lamentation and hope. Its first movement unfolds with a haunting, repetitive melody—a mother’s cry of grief and longing for her lost child, a lament steeped in the pain of human suffering. The music is slow and deliberate, drawing us into a meditative space where sorrow is held, but not without purpose.
This symphony resonates with Advent’s call to repentance. Like the works of darkness we are urged to cast away, Górecki’s music confronts us with humanity’s brokenness and the ache of waiting for deliverance. Yet, in its unyielding repetition and quiet resolution, it also reminds us that light will pierce the darkness. As Christ promised, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”
Both Meidner’s visual tumult and Górecki’s mournful symphony challenge us to hold the tension of Advent: the distress of a world groaning under the weight of sin, and the sure hope of restoration under Christ’s glorious reign. We are reminded to lift our eyes, even as the heavens shake, and behold the coming of the Son of Man in power and great glory.