Worthy is the Lamb

The Mozart “Inter natos” went well on Sunday. It was a delight for me to be in the midst of the musicians, for in our setup, the choir and organ were on my left, the string players on my right. I think that it gave choristers and instrumentalists more of a sense of mutuality to face one another than is the case in the more usual concert setup, with choir in back, instrumentalists in front.

As I mentioned last time, I have used the Mozart as material for practice in figured bass and score-reading. Today I moved to the next project: the Third Sunday of Easter, April 14, when we are scheduled to sing the final parts of Handel's Messiah – Worthy is the Lamb, Blessing and Honor, and the Amen, with our youth choir and adult choir combined and a yet-to-be-determined complement of instrumentalists (trumpets and organ at least, and I hope for continuo players and perhaps oboes doubling the sopranos and altos, as Handel wrote in the score). That passage from the Revelation of St. John is the Epistle for Easter III, so the choice of music is natural, though I worry that it is too large in scale to fit comfortably in the Sunday Eucharist. Then again, that which St. John described is equally too large to fit – well, anywhere. Not in this universe, but only in that time when all is made new. As is clear in the context from Revelation, and as the Lectionary gets right by placing this Lesson shortly after the Feast of the Resurrection, this is all about the Lamb in the center of the throne, who has done what no one else could do (Rev. 5:1-7), and in so doing has answered every prayer, the prayers of all the saints of every generation (v. 8).

Several years ago, J.M. (who might still be reading these pages) presented the church with the gift of the score and orchestral parts to the Messiah in the fine Watkins Shaw edition published by Novello. This morning was almost the first time I have looked inside the conductor's score – a large-format volume of 283 pages, very handsome. I was almost afraid to do so. If anything in this world is Real Music, partaking of that eternal Song before the throne, this is it. “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain...” How can I even sit down at the piano and play the first chord?

But I must, for more reasons than I can here describe.

Handel is less careful about noting the Figures (the numbers delineating the chords) than was Mozart in the little piece we did last Sunday. He was in a hurry (as can be seen in any account of the composition of this oratorio), and he was going to be playing the continuo, so he put down only the most essential figures. I must pencil in many more, obvious to the greatest continuo player of his age (except perhaps his contemporary over in Leipzig), but not so to a beginner such as I. But already I can see that, as it was with the Mozart, this manner of work is going to give me a much better sense of the score than the way I have previously approached it – for we did this part of Messiah once before, nine years ago when this set of lessons came around in the Lectionary.

We began work on this with the Youth Choir last Wednesday, just five minutes of speaking the text in rhythm for the first pages, up to where the “Blessing and honor and glory and power” fugue begins. There is much to be done. But this is why we are doing the piece, and doing it in this manner: I want to introduce our young choristers to this music. I can hardly imagine what it must be like to be eight or nine years old and sing this music – indeed, encounter it in any form, for I doubt that many of them, coming from homes where classical music is unknown, have ever heard a recording of Messiah.

My hesitation in approaching the Holy as I opened this score is appropriate, and I should feel such a strong sense of it as I did this morning every time I sit down at the keyboard. We cannot do any of this without God's help. Most musicians know that Bach wrote “Soli Deo Gloria” at the end of all of his scores; fewer take note of the “J.J.” at the beginning – “Jesu, juva,” “Jesus, help!” So must we begin such a work as lies before me, before us.