God has gone up with a shout,
the Lord with the sound of a trumpet.
Sing praises to God, sing praises;
sing praises to our King, sing praises.
For God is the king of all the earth;
sing praises with a psalm.
Last evening I heard Messiah, different than hearing the Messiah, but similar.
Jennens, the librettist, did not use Psalm 47, but it must have been considered.
Kneeling before the overture I thought of Rita and Russ, Ruthie, Louie and Joe, who once sang these words with such feeling.
When Mr. Angel - a counter-tenor - was given the alto solo for Behold a Virgin, I grieved for Mary, Jan and all altos around the world: an atypical moment in the spotlight taken from them.
But Mr. Angel's singing fit his name.
I was happy when Ms. Atterbury came forward for The eyes of the blind will be opened. She had the rich, solid tones of the best altos and I was on the edge of offense when, in the middle of He shall feed his flock, she was replaced by another counter-tenor.
But when Mr. Brenner began with Come unto him, all ye that labor, the man in the pew next to me actually gasped, the sound was so ethereal.
Rita would have been pleased with the nearly break-neck speed and energy of the conductor, especially in the third movement.
The final bass solo - We shall be changed - filled the church with skill, power, and meaning. Even more than the Hallelujah, this is what caused my skin to tingle and tears to form.
Christmas is about memories - even nostalgia - but it is also about renewal and change. What was old shall be made new.
I went to Messiah with memories. I have a few more. But more than memory, last evening's experience brings the present into sharper focus.
Jennens did not use II Corinthians 5:17, but surely it was in an early draft: The old has gone, the new has come.
Hallelujah!
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