This is the final chorus of Part 1 of Messiah, and ends the section containing prophesies of Christ’s birth and miracles. Following immediately after the soprano aria,”Come unto him all ye that labor…take his yoke upon you …and ye shall find rest,” Handel sets the text lightly and in a dance-like fugue. The sopranos begin it with a skipping theme on the text “his yoke is easy” followed by a light and easy rhythm on “his burthen is light.” These two phrases encompass the whole text of this chorus. There is never a moment where no one is singing. He passes the thematic material around and around, and it creates a sense of freedom from toil. This is not a heavy burden to carry, rather it is the complete opposite. We are invited to cast aside our own load and be yoked together with Christ – he will do the heavy lifting.
At 1’36” the full chorus comes together in a lovely pattern of suspensions, a device favored by baroque composers to create tension-release, dissonance-consonance. It feels like a sigh of contentment or a good massage. The chorus then sings together homophonically to the end. The final four measures slow with an exhale of relief.
Isn’t this what we all long for? To set down our heavy burdens and be free to skip for joy?
Part 1, scene v, no. 20 Air: Isaiah 40:11, Matthew 11:28-29
He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: and he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young. Come unto him, all ye that labour, come unto him, ye that are heavy laden, and he will give you rest. Take his yoke upon you, and learn of him; for he is meek and lowly of heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
In this last aria of the first section, Handel returns to the gentle rocking sicilienne that we heard in the Pifa. A sicilienne is in a slow compound meter and pastoral in nature, reminding us again of the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks.
This is the perfect style for a text that prophesies the Good Shepherd. In a brilliant pairing of texts by Jennens, the Isaiah passage is linked to the words of Jesus recorded in Matthew, “Come unto me, all ye that labor… and ye shall find rest.” Jennens slightly changes the text – me to him – to create a heartening commentary rather than a direct quote.
This is, in my opinion, one of the most comforting pieces of music ever written. The initial music is given to the alto in a beautiful stepwise descending scale on the Good Shepherd text. In the alto voice it is warm and protective. The same music, but transposed up a perfect fourth, is then taken up by the soprano, and given the companion text from Matthew. When the soprano sings it, the music becomes pure and uplifting.
In this recording, we hear two of my favorite singers, and one of the best interpretations of this work. At the end of the aria, the music segues immediately into the final chorus, which we will study tomorrow. Listen to how gently Anne Sophie von Otter and Sylvia McNair deliver this beautiful music. A loving statement that we are cared for and a sweet invitation to rest is perfect for where we are at the end of 2020.
Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and let this music wash over you, comfort you, and give you peace.
Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened, and the ear of the deaf unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb shall sing.
This is a short dry recitative, but it makes a big statement. In a few short lines, Isaiah tells us that the Great Physician is coming and he will heal un-healable ailments. Even in our day, blind people do not suddenly see, deaf people do not suddenly hear. There is no “fix” for these things. But an itinerant preacher in a backwater outpost of the Roman Empire did fix blindness and deafness. He told people with severe spinal chord injuries to stand up, and not only did they stand but they leapt, jumping and dancing. Mute people were given the ability not just to communicate, but to sing!
Isaiah tells us to expect the miraculous.
We don’t expect the miraculous much anymore. When something extraordinary happens we try to find reasons. Our postmodern world has lost the ability to wonder, to stand in awe, to accept what we can’t explain. This might be the biggest loss of our time. If we can’t see the miraculous, we can’t see God.
Because it is secco recitative, accompanied only by cello and harpsichord, the notation for the accompaniment would have been a single bass line with numbers written above it as a guide for the keyboard player to improvise. I love what the harpsichordist does after the phrase “leap as an hart.” He gives a little flourish so that we can hear the leaping.
Handel wrote two versions of this recit, one for soprano and the one we hear here which is more commonly done, for alto. He frequently would rewrite music based on the singers and orchestra he had available. The aria that follows this recit also has two versions, so you use whichever recit goes with the aria version you are using.
Rejoice greatly, o daughter of Zion: shout, o daughter of Jerusalem: behold thy King cometh unto thee: he is the righteous Saviour, and he shall speak peace unto the heathen.
It is fitting that scene v, Christ’s redemptive miracles on earth, should begin with great rejoicing. The baby has been born, and much is anticipated. Handel gives the soprano a joyful, excited, coloratura aria to highlight this text. The daughters of Jerusalem are being exhorted to shout and rejoice. In baroque music, arias were reserved for outbursts of great emotion that commented on the action that was happening in the recitatives. This aria is very typical of Handel’s arias for soprano, full of fioritura – which means to embellish a melody, literally it means “to flourish or to flower.” The form is a quasi da capo which gives us an “A” section followed by a contrasting “B” section and a return to the “A” that is highly decorated.
The “A” section begins with a dancing melody in the strings that the soprano echoes when she enters. This is followed by a little call and response of coloratura between the singer and the strings. “Behold, thy King cometh unto thee” is written as a descending scale – the King is coming down to our level.
The “B” section is generally a little slower and begins in the relative minor of B-flat, or g minor. There is no coloratura in this section, and Handel brings the soprano down to a gentler lower part of the voice, finally landing on a sustained note on the word “peace” while the strings come to rest. The sustained note is sweet and tender.
When the “A” section returns it restores the original ebullience, and if possible adds to it! The initial coloratura sequence is longer and ascends. There is a sort of “tag, you’re it” section between the soprano and orchestra, until they come together in thirds for the final “rejoice greatly” statement. In characteristic Handel fashion, the final statement is taken out of tempo and much slower on the text “Behold, thy King cometh unto thee” before the orchestra takes off for one final dash to the end of the aria.
This is an aria dear to my heart. My first big gig was singing Messiah at Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco my first year of grad school. The conservatory I attended hosted a “Sing-it-yourself Messiah” every December, the audience being the chorus, with the soloists auditioned from students at the conservatory. I was both elated and terrified at being chosen, and pretty convinced I was in way over my head. This event was always sold out. I had never sung before that many people, all of whom were singers or they wouldn’t have been there in the first place. I had never sung with an orchestra. I had certainly never sung in a hall that large and grand. My mom had made me an amazing gown (she is extremely talented in that way), I’d had promo shots done, I was given my own dressing room for pity’s sake, and I was pretty sure I would fall flat on my face.
I remember having a major breakdown at my lesson about a week before the performance. In a sobbing, snot-filled, messy kind of way, I told my teacher I couldn’t do it, everyone would know I was a fake, there was no way on earth I could ever sing this piece as beautifully as my accompanist had just played it. It was the kind of ugly crying you wish to never be witnessed, and there I was in front of my teacher and accompanist fairly out of control.
My teacher was a sweet, elderly, Southern lady. And she kept quietly speaking to me, as one would to an hysterical three year old who can’t find her mommy, and handing me tissues to wipe my face and nose. My accompanist, an extremely talented 17 year old from Korea, just sat there frozen. I’m pretty sure she had never behaved like this in her life. Eventually my sobs retreated into hiccups, and then my teacher said one of the most profound things I have ever heard. It went a little like this:
“Are you quite finished?” in her sweet, quiet, southern accent.
Me: “(hiccup, sniff, snort, nod.)”
“Then SING!”
And I sang. In that moment I realized that it wasn’t about me. If I worried about my performance, if I worried about what people thought of me, I was missing the whole point of doing this thing in the first place. My only job was to SING. I was nothing more than a herald for something far greater than I. My job was to exhort others to rejoice in the coming of this King, using the brilliance of Handel’s music. And ultimately that was Handel’s only job too. We were nothing more than vessels through which the glory of the Lord was proclaimed.
Part 1, scene iv, nos. 16-17 Recitative and Chorus: Luke 2:13-14
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.
The final two movements of this scene contain so much joy and excitement. The accompanied recitative, always saved for more dramatic moments, begins with a flurry of sixteenth notes in the high strings, almost like the rhythmic beating of angel wings, creating a shimmering effect.
The angel chorus breaks in with “Glory to God in the highest” sung only by the three highest voices of the choir – the earthbound basses are omitted. Heaven sings, and earth replies. The low voices and strings join on a unison “and peace on earth” and for a moment the fluttering of wings stops. Then the angels can’t stand the pause and pick up again. “Glory to God” and once more earth replies in unison. Then we get a small fugal passage where the good news is passed from one voice to another.
This is followed by another statement of “Glory to God…” but this time heaven and earth join together while the strings flutter their wings. When we next hear “and peace on earth” it is no longer in unison but delivered in rich chordal harmony. There is one more short fugal passage while “goodwill…” is passed between heaven and earth, and then we hear the angels depart back into heaven and are gone in a quiet twinkle.
Sometimes no commentary is needed because the music speaks for itself.
And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
In this very short, declamatory recitative, Handel delivers the greatest announcement of all time. By using secco, or dry, recitative, the text becomes the most important element. Handel uses the slow harmonic motion to support the text effectively and with great insight. He begins in the key of A major, and uses the most common of all chord progressions to begin – tonic, subdominant, dominant, tonic or I-IV-V-I. This particular chord progression has been used in everything from Baroque to the Blues and beyond because these three chords contain within them every note of the scale and therefore can be used to harmonize any note of the melody. It is familiar and it is comforting. “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy!”
But then we get a twist. Handel moves suddenly from A major into E major, the dominant of A, by way of a B major chord, which is the dominant of E. And he does it in two chords. Then we are thrust into C# major which finally resolves to F# major. Handel has taken us on a journey all over the map. “Which shall be for ALL people.”
That final key of F# indicated triumph over struggle in the Baroque period. Handel uses it here for one of the most important triumphs over struggle of all time: For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Saviour which is Christ the Lord.”
God made man. The opening salvo is fired. The war against sin and death has begun. And while the battle will rage, triumph has been declared in the form of a baby, and announced to some ragged shepherds outside of Bethlehem.
Part 1, scene iv, nos. 14a and 14b Recitative: Luke 2:8-9
“There were shepherds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.”
There is only one short section in Messiah that is actual narrative; it tells a story. There are four recitatives, two pairs, and a chorus that are taken from the book of Luke and tell of the appearance of the angel to the shepherds. One could argue this whole scene, beginning with Pifa, is the only section that truly follows the format of Handel’s other oratorios. Handel wrote somewhere between 25 and 29 oratorios, depending on how they are categorized, and most were drawn from Old Testament or Apochryphal stories. Aside from a greater role for chorus, and being in English, Handel’s oratorios resembled his operas. Recitative was meant to move the plot line forward, and arias were reserved for emotional moments or commentary on the action. But the other oratorios told an actual dramatic story.
The whole of scene iv could, theoretically, be staged, and I’ve seen a few unfortunate attempts at it. This is the Christmas story as we know it, the one that Linus quotes in the Charlie Brown Christmas special. I’m not sure why it is that the announcement to the shepherds has so impressed itself of the Christian psyche, but maybe it is because they were so ordinary. These guys were nobodies, and if they are the first witnesses to the King of Kings, maybe he is also for me, a nobody.
These recitatives follow a dry -accompanied, dry – accompanied pairing. The first two, which we are looking at today, begin with a pedal point on a C in the bass, and a simple statement of fact by the soprano: “There were shepherds..” It is short and plain. Only two chords appear over the course of four measures. The music is fairly static. The scene is set: nothing much is happening.
Suddenly, the strings enter with broken ascending sixteenth note arpeggios which create a magical shimmering moment. “And lo, an angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.”
Two contrasting recitatives in eleven short measures effectively convey the mundane and the majestic, the ordinary and the extraordinary.
After the joyful ebullience of For unto us a child is born, Handel lowers and raises the curtain on a new scene. One of only two instrumental pieces in the whole of Messiah, the Pastoral Symphony or Pifa introduces a quiet night in the fields outside of Bethlehem. Using a rocking compound rhythm known as a sicilienne or a type of music played by Sicilian shepherds., this sweet lullaby is scored senza ripieno, or without the full orchestra, using only a small group of strings. Most performances we hear today ignore that marking, probably because it is so beautiful everyone wants to play!
I’d always wanted to know what Pifa meant, so I did what any uninformed and curious person does – I searched the web. There was surprisingly not a lot of information on this. I had to go down a rabbit hole and one thing led to another. From what I pieced together, this made the most sense: the Italian word pifferaio means “piper or one who plays the bagpipes.” A piffero was a double reed antecedent to the oboe, and was frequently played with the zampogna or a type of bagpipe. Originally, these were rustic instruments but over time Pifferi (or those who play the pipes) provided music for important occasions. Handel, who had spent a fair amount of time in Italy, doubtless knew about this musical custom.
And yet he includes no wind instruments in his scoring of Pifa, just strings and continuo. He gives us the feel of the bagpipe by using a pedal point or drone in the bass. This soft lullaby is meant to tell us that a baby has been born, but an important one, as well as lull the shepherds and sheep to sleep in the cold hills. Handel uses a da capo format or ABA form, most commonly used in arias. The repetition of the first section soothes the listener even further as it is frequently played much softer on the return.
We hear in this recording a very small group of instrumentalists, much like would have been used in Handel’s day, but with some liberties taken. In the repeat of the A section, this recording uses an oboe and bassoon which is not in the original score, but I think enhances the idea of a bagpipe.
Learning about the pifferi has changed how I listen to this piece. I’ve always thought it was lovely, but somewhat dull, thrown into the middle of a masterpiece. Knowing the deeper meaning of what Pifa means completely changes this. I can hear the pipes, I can hear the Sicilienne, and I can hear the monotony of sitting night after night in the hills outside of Bethlehem guarding a flock of stupid sheep. To know that the pifferi announced great things, and that the greatest announcement of all time is prefaced to sleepy shepherds by a sweet lullaby, allows me to hear the subtle irony Handel infuses into this piece.
The extraordinary is masked within the ordinary, and I miss it because I don’t know what I am hearing.
“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulders: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.”
Outside of the Hallelujah chorus, this is arguably the most well-known movement of Messiah and for good reason. Handel pulls out all the stops for this chorus. We are given a delightful initial subject for the fugue’s exposition. It is just about perfect in its execution. This is a theme that sticks in one’s head and leaves one whistling it. And it almost needs to be whistled – this is not really a humming subject – it is dance-like and ebullient. Handel brings the whole chorus together to proclaim the names this child will be called: Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace while the violins dance in sixteenth notes about a dotted eighth rhythm in the bass. You will remember that the dotted eighth rhythm was used to usher in a king.
This is the birthday of the King and Handel gives us suitable music for such an event!
What many people don’t know was that Handel borrowed this subject from a duet he had written earlier the same year. This was common practice in his time, to rework material he had used elsewhere. Considering Messiah was written in about three weeks this makes sense, although it was not unusual for Handel to compose large works in short amounts of time. This chorus has become far more famous than its antecedent, so I, for one, am glad Handel reused it!
The text is a grand reminder and comforting, particularly now: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.” Let’s fix our hope on that.
“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.”
The contrast in the text informs the composition of this bass aria. Handel fluctuates between modalities based on dark and light. He begins the work in b minor – dark and ominous – and uses the minor mode whenever the text is about darkness and the shadow of death. The melody also meanders around the key center using many accidentals and dissonant intervals.
When the text shifts to the light, Handel moves to the major mode and uses a chordal melody that reinforces the key center and mostly ascends.
Giving this aria to the bass must have been a no-brainer for Handel. Basses almost always play the villain – there is something about a bass voice that can seem more menacing than the other voice parts. But when a bass uses the top of his voice well it shines.
I must confess that I’ve never cared for this aria and I think perhaps Handel didn’t mean for us to. Darkness is frightening, unsettling. There is no way to gauge where you are. Until light illuminates the path you cannot find your way and are destined to meander around. But when the light shines, the path becomes clear. When there is light, there are still shadows, but they retreat under the noonday sun. The light does not eliminate the shadow, but it becomes less scary.
Death has always seemed to me more bleak and heavy when it happens in the winter. Grief is hard enough to bear when there is light, but in the darkness and cold it is oppressive, settling in around us and making it nearly impossible to find our way. When the light shines, so does hope. The light doesn’t eradicate grief, but it makes the shadows retreat at least a little. We still live in the shadow of death, we still walk in darkness, but a light has shone and shows us the way.
