Descending from the Luminous Darkness
“Is not the day of the Lord darkness, and not light, and gloom with no brightness in it? ”
This is J.M.W. Turner's haunting painting "The Angel Standing in the Sun" (1846). Suffused with an overwhelming light at once surrounding and emanating from the angel, the foreground scenes are difficult to discern. The coming "day of the Lord," as the Prophet Amos warns us in this week's readings, will be darkness, not light, for our persistence in injustice and false piety. Turner illustrates the darkness in human hearts. In the foreground, Adam and Eve mourn their murdered son Abel on the left, and on the right, Judith stands over the headless body of Holofernes. Dark birds circle above -- in the artist's own words, this is "the feast of vultures when the day is done." Like these biblical scenes of betrayal and violence, Amos reveals the shadows that lurk in our souls, calling all people to "seek good, and not evil."
In the center, the brilliant, avenging angel Michael appears with sword upraised, as if prepared for the final judgement. This evokes Jesus' parable of the wise and foolish virgins, who reminds us to keep our spiritual lamps burning brightly for his coming again in glory. As Paul writes, we wait with hope, knowing that we will share in Christ's resurrection, and the recapitulation of all things.
Turner paints a pessimistic picture of judgement, but as adopted children of God we await a different feast. Beyond the darkness and violence, we yearn for the wedding banquet of the Lamb, when God's light will burst forth and we will rejoice eternally with the heavenly host. That day will dawn with joy: with the light of judgement becoming, for us, a light a mercy. Abiding in Christ, we keep our hearts ready to join the feast.
The Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God.
— 1 Thessalonians 4:13
Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost
Texts for This Week
Prayer
O God, whose blessed Son came into the world that he might destroy the works of the devil and make us children of God and heirs of eternal life: Grant that, having this hope, we may purify ourselves as he is pure; that, when he comes again with power and great glory, we may be made like him in his eternal and glorious kingdom; where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
Awake, cries the Voice
Bach's cantata Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme (BWV 140) is a brilliant composition, written for precisely this moment in the liturgical year (the waning days of Ordinary Time, at the approach of Advent — what we sometimes like to call “Kingdomtide”). The libretto meld Philipp Nicolai's hymn of the same title, which focuses on the themes of watchfulness for the end, with a dialogue between the soul and Christ based on the Song of Solomon. If you’re able, it’s worth setting aside half an hour to listen to the whole piece with full attention! If you have just a moment to read through the lyrics, you can find them here.
The dominant sense of the piece is a joyful, overflowing expectation of the coming wedding feast of Christ and his bride, the Church. The opening chorale invites us to wake from our slumber, as the parable of the wise and foolish virgins warns against spiritual sleepiness. The melodies yearn upwards, straining to catch the first glimpse of the heavenly bridegroom. Like the shining lamps of the wise virgins, the music recalls Christ's words - "Stay awake, for you know neither the day nor the hour." In the third and sixth movements, the soprano soloist takes the part of the Soul calling out in rapturous prayer to be made ready for her lover's arrival. The final chorale swells with the joy of the heavenly wedding feast, as all the faithful join the marriage supper of the Lamb. Bach reminds us of the blessed hope that awaits us as we faithfully long for Christ's coming in glory. Our lamps may flicker, but the Light of the World is unfailing. Come quickly, Lord Jesus!
