Part 1: Scene i, no. 2 Recitative: Isaiah 40: 1-2a
“Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned”
The opening recitative in Messiah begins slowly and quietly, following a predictable thrumming chordal pattern in the key of E major. The tenor floats in the text “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people” and then declaims “saith your God.”
Many baroque and renaissance composers employed a technique called word-painting, or making the music sound like what the text means. While technically this is probably not word-painting, I can’t imagine a more comforting three notes – “Comfort ye”- almost like a sigh of relief – echoed immediately as if from heaven by the high strings. Handel uses a descending minor third which is also the same interval universally used by mothers to call their children in for dinner. There is not much more comforting than being called home by someone who loves you in that sing-song manner. I don’t know if that was Handel’s intention, but it works.
Handel moves into the next section “speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem” using another technique called sequencing – repeating the same music and text up a step, reassuring the listener. Then we hear an echo of the “comfort ye” motive followed by the tenor leaping an octave to “cry unto her” that her warfare is accomplished. The only strong dissonance we hear is when the tritone, the most dreaded of dissonances, is heard on the word “iniquity” and immediately resolves into a major chord on “pardoned.” Handel uses the augmented fourth to move us forward gently to a new place, out of sin and into redemption, and the key of B major.
So blah, blah, blah, music teacher. Honestly, when I listen to this, those are not the things I hear. What I hear is a piece of immense comfort which is exactly what Handel intended. This piece rarely fails to move me. It’s simplicity, poignancy, and musical beauty sets the great prophecy of Isaiah in such a way that I cannot help but hear the music when I read the text.
The slowness and deliberate pace of accompaniment – repeated eighth notes almost continuously – settles my anxious heart into a steady rhythm, requiring me to adapt to the music. This is something that text alone cannot do, no matter its meter.
Especially in this year of chaos, I need to hear this music. I need to be comforted and told that everything will be all right. I need my heartbeat to be steadied, and my breath sighed out. My iniquity is pardoned. So saith my God.
