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.
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.
“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.
Part 1, scene iii, no. 8 Recitative: Isaiah 7:14; Matthew 1:23
“Behold a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Emmanuel, GOD WITH US.”
This is the first recitativo secco, or dry recitative, Handel uses in Messiah. Secco recitativo is characterized by the speech-like rhythm of the music and the use of basso continuo to accompany the voice. Basso continuo was the most common type of accompaniment in baroque music. It consisted of a bass instrument and a harmony instrument, in this case cello and harpsichord, that improvised above a bass line called figured bass. The composer would write JUST the bass line with some “figures” – numbers or accidental markings. The bass instrument would play the bass line and the harmony instrument would be used to “realize” the figured bass, or improvise a chordal accompaniment using the composer’s shorthand. In dry recitative, the harmonic motion tends to be slow and that is what we find here.
The text is intended to be the most important part of secco recitative. Baroque opera composers, of which Handel was one of the greatest, used dry recit to move the story forward, reserving the arias for emotional commentary. “Behold, a virgin shall conceive” serves this purpose, and yet Handel imbues it with dignity and purpose beyond the simplicity of the music. This is a crucial part of the story. Handel states that in clear syllabic text (one note per syllable). This is a proclamation of highest import.
It is, isn’t it? Only one virgin has ever borne a child. This is miraculous in every way possible. I’ve often wondered about Mary. Just last night I heard a talk by one of our pastors on this very topic. Her point was not that the virgin conception was miraculous and mysterious. It was that Mary was so young. The word virgin in biblical context tells us that. Girls were married off fairly early, and while Mary was engaged, she was not yet with her husband. She was probably 13 or 14, at the high end MAYBE 16. Once she hit puberty, it was time. The betrothal for a virgin lasted between 10 months and a year.
The point Kris made about Mary’s youth is that she was still young enough to believe in possibilities, in dreams. It was, perhaps, easier to accept that such a thing could happen, and she was young enough, perhaps, not to fully understand the consequences of this pregnancy outside of marriage.
Mary was also betrothed to a good man. When he found out she was pregnant, he could have had her stoned which would have saved his reputation. He knew the child wasn’t his, but who else would believe that? At best, people would have assumed they had been intimate outside of marriage – a shameful act in their society – and at worst, he had been cuckolded. Yet Joseph, even before the angelic visit, makes the decision to end things quietly. He is also a godly man. When the angel appears and tells him the truth, he recognizes this prophecy. He believes the angel and names the child Jesus, “for he will save the people from their sins.” Matthew 1: 21
“And he shall purify the sons of Levi, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness.”
The fugue is arguably the most beloved form of Baroque composers – it certainly was of Bach! But Handel also employed fugues and this is the first one we see in Messiah.
Texture in music can be defined as how the individual musical lines are put together. Monophonic is unison – when everyone is singing and/or playing the same note at the same time. Homophonic is probably the most common in our day – when there is a clear melody that is accompanied by a chordal structure – think of a hymn or a pop song. The final texture is polyphony – when each individual line of music has an interesting melody that is layered one atop the other.
The fugue is a specific type of polyphony. It uses points of imitation that then spin off into free counterpoint, but the entrance of each individual voice is the same thematic material. The first time the theme is presented it is called the subject, and we usually hear it in its entirety. This is certainly true of “And he shall purify.” The sopranos immediately present us with the fugue theme in the key of g minor which establishes “home.” Before they are quite done, the basses begin the theme but this time in the dominant of g minor, d minor. This is called the answer – it is strict imitation, but starts on a different note. The altos also come in on the dominant – this is slightly unusual but not unheard of in a fugue – usually we would hear the theme again in the tonic key – but Handel gives that to us in the next entrance with the tenors. So now we have a scheme that goes subject – answer – answer – subject, and every voice has presented the theme once in its entirety. This time, however, he lets the tenors continue with a countersubject on the text “the sons of Levi.” A countersubject is a second theme that will only be heard in conjunction with the first theme.
After this initial presentation by all the voices of the theme, we get an episode of different music. In this case, Handel uses a homophonic and homorhythmic declamation of the text: “that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness.” The homophonic texture sets this text apart as a group exercise, the offering is from the people, as opposed to the purifying which is from the Lord.
Following the episode, we hear the fugal subject again, but not in its completeness, and passed through various keys before the tenors kick it off one last time quickly followed by one voice after another, layering theme on theme until all voices come together homophonically at the end.
The fugue is a very intellectual form of music. It requires the listener to pay attention carefully; to learn the theme and then listen for each presentation of it. The term fugue comes from the Italian word fuga which means “to fly” or “to escape.” You can certainly hear that in this fugue as the voices fly and chase each other throughout, only pausing long enough to bring an offering to the Lord.
In so many ways, I find myself flying from purification. Being purified isn’t an easy process – remember the refiner’s fire? Handel’s use of a fugue to set this text is certainly ironic and yet completely apropos. We try to fly or escape from the Lord, when we should be flying to Him. Only when we have been purified, caught by the Lord, can we bring an offering as one who is right with God. Maybe that is what Handel really meant by this fugue.
“But who may abide the day of his coming? and who shall stand when he appeareth? for he is like a refiner’s fire.”
“But who may abide the day of his coming?” begins in a slow lilting triple meter in the key of d minor. Key selection was important to Baroque composers because they felt that inward emotions could be conveyed by outward signs and that music could be used to invoke specific emotions. In this case the key of d minor signified something serious. What could be more serious than contemplating the day of judgement?
Handel interrupts this contemplative section by changing key, meter, and tempo. He bursts into a fiery, fast, almost frantic depiction of the text that leaves the singer and listener breathless. Handel also indicates the contrasts of forte and piano, which was uncommon in his era. It was generally assumed the performer was clever enough to figure it out, but clearly it was important to Handel that his dynamic markings be followed closely in this section. We hear the crackling and fluctuations of an intense fire.
He repeats these two sections in an abbreviated format allowing us to contemplate both the dread AND fear of judgement. But we aren’t left without hope – the refiner’s fire is not intended to consume everything, only the dross leaving the pure gold at the end. While unpleasant, it leaves the final product perfect and pure.
I love this recording from 1987 featuring Robert Shaw conducting the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and featuring Marietta Simpson as the alto soloist. Her stillness and accuracy is breathtaking. She sings this intense solo with dignity and strength. My senior year in college I had the privilege of singing the St. Matthew Passion under the direction of Maestro Shaw, and I can attest to his attention to the detail and intention of the composer as well as his immense musicality. He would conduct staring at his left shoelace, but if something wasn’t as he wanted it, his head would shoot up and piercing blue eyes would immediately find the source of the problem. His ear for the music was impeccable. I learned so much in the short time we had with him about the importance of freedom of expression within the boundaries of what the composer wrote – accuracy was important but so was emotional context.
This is a good life lesson.
Maybe we are living within a refiner’s fire now. So many things we deemed important are being stripped away leaving us with what truly matters. Maybe the end result will be worth the current discomfort.
Part 1, scene ii, no. 5 Recitative: Haggai 2:6-7 & Malachi 3:1
“Thus saith the Lord, the Lord of Hosts; yet once, a little while, and I will shake the heav’ns, and the earth, the sea, and the dry land; and I will shake all nations, and the desire of all nations shall come; the Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple, ev’n the messenger of the covenant, whom ye delight in: behold, he shall come, saith the Lord of hosts.”
Handel begins this accompanied recitative with the orchestra rhythmically outlining a D minor chord and a proclamation “thus saith the Lord” by the bass in stentorian tones. It’s a little scary. The listener is meant to sit up and take notice.
But then suddenly the modality switches to the relative major key of F. It’s as if, now that he has our attention, Handel switches to an exciting secret. The bass word-paints “shakes” but in major – and it feels light-hearted – almost a jolly laugh. The bass sings a few more of these belly-laughs (like a bowlful of jelly?) and then the high strings start to build the excitement with repeated sixteenth notes. The low strings add an ascending bass line that walks up the C scale – the dominant of F – and creates a sense of anticipation. This shaking isn’t meant to fill us with dread, but to wake us up – with the longest coloratura passage on the word “desire.” The desire of all nations is coming! Wake up!
After a strong cadence in F major, there is another quick switch. In a declamatory forte, the strings use a dotted-rhythm to introduce the secco or dry recitative – a recitative in which the orchestra only punctuates the text. The dotted rhythm was frequently linked to the processional of royalty – Lully used it in all of his French ouvertures, designed to get Louis XIV into the room – and composers all over Europe adopted it. Handel uses it here in the secco recitative in which the herald announces the King: “The Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple…” But the herald is gentler in this section, this is a benevolent Lord, one in whom we delight.
“And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.”
This is the first chorus we hear in Messiah. One of the hallmarks of English oratorio is the use of chorus as a significant role in the story. Handel gives the chorus music that is as interesting and complex to sing as he gives to the soloists.
“And the glory of the Lord” introduces the thematic material in the strings senza ripieno. In baroque orchestral music of a certain genre, there were two groups within the orchestra – a small group of instruments drawn from within the orchestra, and the tutti or ripieno which was the full orchestra. Pitting these two groups against each other provided contrast. Senza ripieno means to use just the smaller group from within which creates a delicacy. When the score is marked tutti, everyone joins in which gives importance and weight to the musical motives and the text. The first we hear tutti in “And the glory of the Lord” is when the full chorus makes that very statement. Most modern orchestral conductors choose to ignore this marking and have the whole orchestra play, just more lightly, and that is what we hear in this recording.
Handel employs three standard baroque techniques in this piece. The first is the use of ritornello form. I mentioned this briefly when discussing “Ev’ry valley” but it bears more in depth explanation. The most commonly used form in baroque orchestral music, the ritornello gives an initial statement of the thematic material, and then has a “little return” periodically throughout the movement, frequently in a different key and rarely in its entirety. This technique creates a sense of familiarity – we sit up and think “I’ve heard this before!”
The second technique is the use of the hemiola. As an aside, this is one of those words that is really fun to say – one of my favorite musical terms. A hemiola occurs when we are in a triple meter and suddenly it feels like we shift to a duple meter. In other words we go from counting 1-2-3-1-2-3 to counting 1-2-3-1-2-3. It’s a sort of large scale syncopation.
One final technique that should be explained to fully understand this piece is the use of points of imitation. A holdover from the Renaissance, late Baroque composers used this technique when they wanted to emphasize a text or musical motive. It begins with one voice stating the motive, and then is “imitated” by the other voices starting on different pitches.
We hear Handel use all three of these techniques in “And the glory of the Lord.” He begins with a statement of the thematic material creating the ritornello and ends that material with a hemiola.
When the altos enter they give us the first motive that Handel will use as a point of imitation, followed by the whole chorus (and tutti orchestra for the first time) singing together the initial statement of the text. The tenors then get a second motive that will be used imitatively. These two motives then move throughout the chorus until they all come together to proclaim the text ending with a hemiola. We then get our first ritornello presented in the dominant key – we know this because we can see all manner of accidentals which take us away from the key of A major to its dominant of E major.
We now have a second section of musical material presented. A new motive is again delivered by the altos first, but this time Handel moves immediately into a point of imitation: “and all flesh shall see it together.” The men sing a stentorian proclamation on repeated longer notes: “for the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.” He then takes these two phrases and passes them all around the chorus. There follows a small ritornello and another full choral statement of “and the glory of the Lord.”
From here until the end of the work, these four motives are shared as points of imitation throughout the chorus. Handel ends the movement with one of his trademarks – a few moments of silence followed by one last grand statement by the full chorus and orchestra.
This has been a lot of complicated explanation of some terminology that we will hear again and again throughout Messiah. But understanding what we are hearing gives depth and meaning to the text in a way just reading it cannot.
“And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed” seems to me a double prophecy – one that has occurred and will occur again in the last days. The revelation of the Lord’s glory the first time came in a star shining in the night and was shared with only a few shepherds and some wise men. This is the gentle first motive Handel gives us. “All flesh shall see it together” won’t happen until the Lord makes his second arrival in triumph and “every knee shall bow… and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of the Father.” (Philippians 2:20-11) This is the final grand statement of this movement.
