Handel's Messiah

Saturday, I attended a performance of the Messiah by a semi-professional, German choir. It was overall a great experience. Although, the tempo was occasionally rushed, the pronunciation a bit shaky, the chorus did an excellent job. As for the soloists, although the soprano and alto weren't particularly good, the bass and tenor more then made up for them - particularly the tenor with his youthful energy and memorable gestures.

The piece is not unfamiliar to me. When I was a sophomore in high school, my mom bought me the Sir Colin Davis two-disc recording. Why, I don't quite remember (I think she might have been singing it in her church choir and wanted me to hear it). I remember listening to it and being struck by the last section, the Amen chorus. Sometimes, on the way to school, I would put that particular track on and listen to it with the volume turned up. It gave me a huge buzz; I think it even made me cry a few times, potent stuff.

During my senior year, we performed parts of the Messiah for our giant, middle of the year concert; we hired soloists, orchestra, conductor - everything. It was not a particularly enjoyable experience and our performance was terrible, a risk always taken when performing difficult pieces. (On a side note, our most successful 'difficult' piece, and, in my opinion, the most enjoyable, was Faure's Requiem; a stirring funeral piece, I get chills just thinking about it). Yet, I believe, somehow, through the experience, Handel’s Messiah ingrained itself permanently in my brain.

So, as I said, the piece is not new to me. In fact, when I heard it on Saturday night, I was surprised by how much I not only recognized, but actually knew. Yet, in spite of all my knowing, something unexpected occurred during the concert: the piece I knew so well became transfigured. The notes hung suspended in the air, glimmering, their echoes of the cold, grey stone filled the room with light. During the course of the more than two hour concert, I reflected, literaly; the music shone down upon me and filled me with thoughts.

Here's one distinct 'reflection' I remember. It occurred to me during the section, "He trusted in God". The short section is a little over two minutes, depending on how it’s sung. There aren't to many words: "He trusted in God that He would deliver Him, let Him deliver Him, if he delight in Him". Throughout this short piece, these words are repeated over and over again. The four voice parts cascade over each other in typical Handle style, repeating and slightly modifying earlier motifs (a fugue, I believe), only to have all four voices come together at various, climatic moments.

While listening, an image came to mind - Jesus on his cross with onlookers saying those words: "He trusted in God that He would deliver him, let Him deliver him, if he delight in him". Not to anyone particular, they said it as a question to themselves, those around them too, and then, finally, to Jesus. And as the words repeated, I saw Jesus on his cross listening to them (in fact, I really did see Jesus – a giant stone Jesus hanging in the back of the church). And then, as the choir continued singing, I imagined him dying.

From this thought, I arrived at a memory. Two years ago, a friend passed away from Leukemia. During the time of her illness, people were in constant prayer for her. There were even fasts and 24-7 prayer chains. For a while, it looked like she was going to get better; there were even rumors that a prophetic women had 'seen' her recovery. Yet, despite these ‘signs’, things took a sudden turn for the worse and she passed away. As this memory came and passed, the choir continued singing.

As the song ended, I realized two things. First, everyone claiming to believe in the Christian God will hear this song as they go through inexplicable suffering: "she trusted in God the He would deliver her, let Him deliver her, if He delight in her" (or, perhaps, in substitute for the last clause, “if He exists”). Of course, these aren't necessarily malicious thoughts; they're perfectly natural. The implicit questions - some would call them accusations - are directed at both her, Christians in general, and God. Had she done wrong? Did she not trust in God? Had the Christians praying for her done wrong? Did they not trust in God? Did God do something wrong? Did God care? Was and is God there? There are others, more difficult and complex, but those seem to be the primary questions.

Are there answers? Yes, but only indirect and paradoxical, which lead me to my second realization. The only comfort during times of inexplicable suffering for a Chrsitian is to know that Jesus, the despised and rejected one, dwells within the sufferer and comforts them. If the sufferer dies, he enters fully into Christ’s death. Then, the question is asked once more, has God delivered them. If Jesus’ resurrection did happen, the question is paradoxically answered: yes and no. The life of Jesus was to suffer and die by the hand of man and God; the death of Jesus was the path to eternal life, peace and joy. The life of a Christian is to suffer and die with Chirst; but his death is the place of rebirth/ressurection through Jesus into eternal life, peace and joy, as a heir to the Kingdom of God.