Hallelujah! What a Mechayeh, I mean Messiah, Handel's Messiah!

Davies Symphony Hall decorated with Christmas Trees and two standing ornaments !

Bienvenue and welcome back to Musée Musings, your idiosyncratic guide to Paris and art. This week a few cultural experiences balanced my lazy hanging around of the past few weeks. My kids and I attended a performance of Handel’s Messiah by the San Francisco Symphony and Chorus at S.F. Davies Hall. For so many years it was an annual thing for us. Then Covid happened. It was nice to be back. Another day, after our weekly dejeuner sur l’herbe in Golden Gate Park, with sandwiches from Gus’s, Ginevra and I decided to walk home through the park rather than take the bus home from the Haight. After a few minutes, we found ourselves at the De Young Museum (of course we did, there’s no other way to get home). There is an exhibition on now, a multi-media immersion into the life and times of Ramses II, the Egyptian pharaoh who reigned for 67 years. (Figure 1) Although advance booking was suggested, we got right in. The museum had been the most vocal opponent of Golden Gate Park becoming pedestrian. (Figures 2, 3). But the people voted. And now there is no parking on the museum side of the park. Which may be why we were very nearly the only people at this block-buster exhibition. I’ll tell you about this exhibition soon. It travels to Paris next spring.

Figure 1. Ramses the Great and the Gold of the Pharaohs, de Young Museum, S.F.

Figure 2. Lounge chairs and tables scattered over what were streets in Golden Gate Park, SF

Figure 3. Ginevra ready to play bean toss in Golden Gate Park, SF

I have attended performances of Handel’s Messiah at Davies Symphony Hall, Grace Cathedral and the Mission Dolores. Those two grand churches seem right for religious music. But with seats so hard and temperatures so low, I just can’t. The creature comforts of a space designed for audiences to hear music - heat and bathrooms and comfortable seats - make it so much easier to appreciate the performance of a piece that, with intermission, can stretch to nearly 3 hours.

During Handel’s lifetime, considerable controversy surrounded the oratorio. Chief among them was where it should be performed. A religious oratorio in a public theater was considered by some to be sacrilegious. To others, it was blasphemous for a “theatrical entertainment” albeit, about the life and death of Christ, to be performed in a consecrated church. Fueling the controversy was the fact that Handel’s librettist, Charles Jennens, took his lyrics directly from scripture.

Here are three things I love about the Messiah. First, the text is in English. Second, the lights stay on so we can read along in our programs as they are sung. Third is all the paintings that I see in my mind’s eye as I listen to and read those words.

Unlike the Nutcracker (Figure 4) and Christmas Carol (Figure 5), which are definitely Christmas stories, the Messiah isn’t. Of the oratorio’s three parts, only the first is about the Birth of Christ. The second and longest part is about Christ’s Passion. Which obviously should be sung at Easter, the holiday that commemorates Christ’s death. The third part, the shortest part, is about Christ’s Resurrection.

Figure 4. Performance of the Nutcracker, San Francisco Ballet

Figure 5. Christmas Carol, American Conservatory Theater, San Francisco

The Decembers before Covid, Ginevra and I were in Paris. We wanted to attend a Christmas performance of the Messiah. But there were none in Paris at Christmas. So, somehow I found a play about the Nativity. It told a very different story from the one we all know. In this version, Mary and Joseph don’t arrive in Bethlehem at night, Mary doesn’t give birth to Jesus either in a cave (Eastern, Figure 6) or a barn (Western, Figure 7) because there was no room at the inn. In this telling, Joseph and Mary are welcomed into the home of a poor peasant family. Their home, like all modest homes in villages like Bethlehem, consisted of two rooms. One for the family, the other for guests. This “guest room” was (mis)translated into “inn”. And apparently, since people were already staying in this family’s guest room, there was no room at the ‘inn’ so Joseph and Mary shared the main room, the room of their hosts.

Figure 6. Nativity in a Cave, (the Christ Child in swaddling, looked over by ox and ass - for which there are several interpretations. At left, Joseph, at right, Adoration of the Shepherds. Byzantine painting

Figure 7. Nativity in a ‘barn’ with ox and ass and adoring shepherds, Sandro Botticelli

This reminded me of the mistranslation that has resulted in depictions of Moses with horns, like Michelangelo’s famous statue. (Figure 8) The original Hebrew word used to describe Moses’ face is qaran, which means “to shine” or “to send out rays.” Another word, way too close in spelling is qeren which means “horns.” An ancient translator obviously messed up and the mistake has lasted for centuries. Moses’ face “sent forth rays of light.” He did not have horns coming out of his forehead.

Figure 8. Moses, Michelangelo, San Pietro in Vincoli, 1515

Which brings us to another word, “manger,” which we have been told means barn, but which apparently doesn’t. According to one scholar, the typical layout of a peasant house like the one where Mary and Joseph were probably welcomed, included a passageway between the house and the stable (in which the family’s cow spent the night). Several holes were cut into the walls of both home and stable at the bottom, so that the cow’s body heat could pass through the manger and into the house. And so the hay and whatever else got into the house during the day could be swept into the manger. It was into that warm space that Jesus, just born and newly swaddled, was placed. (Figure 9) And he stayed nice and toasty because of the cow’s warm breath on him. Or, if you prefer, from Isiah, the Ox and the Ass.

Figure 9. Nativity in Manger, Christ Child swaddled, ox and ass looking on with Annunciation to Shepherds to the side. Giotto, Arena Chapel, Padua, 1300 - 1305 

Yes, I know, we are here to talk about Handel’s oratorio, Messiah, so let’s.

The composer George Frederic Handel (Figure 10) moved to London from Germany in 1712 (aged 27). He quickly found success composing Italian style operas for British nobility. After 25 years, his clients began to tire of operas. So, he pivoted and achieved success composing oratorios for the English middle class. Although an oratorio is structured like an opera, there is no acting, there is no staging, there are no costumes, there is no scenery. There’s an orchestra, a chorus and soloists. What a relief that must have been. Less expensive to mount, smaller loss if unsuccessful.

Figure 10. George Frederic Handel, Thomas Hudson, 1736

Handel wrote the Messiah during the summer of 1741, in preparation for a move from London to Dublin, where he had received an invitation to present a season’s worth of music. It took Handel three weeks to write the Messiah. Clocking, as one critic put it, 24 minutes of composing per week. Made possible by borrowing heavily from his own repertoire. His librettist, Charles Jennens borrowed heavily, too, from even older sources, the Old and New Testaments.

Handel didn’t present the premier of Messiah during the fall of 1741 as planned. Instead, he offered it the following Spring, at Easter. In the years that followed, its performance was mostly a great success. As its popularity grew, so did the size of the orchestra and chorus. The 1742 Dublin premiere employed a few soloists, a chorus of 8 boys and 16 men and a small orchestra. By 1787, at Westminster Abbey, the orchestra, chorus and soloists numbered 800 altogether.

Part I of Handel’s Messiah is the Birth of Christ. As the chorus sings this verse from Isaiah, “Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son .…” dozens of paintings of the Nativity flood my head (see Figures 6, 7, 9). And then there is the rousing chorus of, “For unto us a child is born, Unto us a Son is given … Wonderful Counsellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace,” again from Isiah.

In the first part is another of my favorite, this from the Gospel of Luke, describing the Adoration of the Shepherds: “There were shepherds abiding in the field keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid. 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 savior, which is Christ the Lord. (Figures 11, 12). Even as I write these words, I hear the singers and imagine the paintings.

Figure 11. Annunciation to the Shepherds from Santa Croce, Florence, Taddeo Gaddi, 1328

Figure 12. Adoration of the Shepherds, Andrea Mantegna, 1450-51

Part 2 is difficult to hear, to read. Christ as the Man of Sorrows, mocked, whipped, spat upon. From Isaiah: “He was despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. He gave His back to the smiters, …He hid not His face from shame and spitting.” (Figures 13, 14)

Figure 13. Ecce Homo, (Pilate presents Christ before the hostile crowd) Hieronymus Bosch, 1475-85

Figure 14. Christ as the Man of Sorrows, Geertgen tot Sint Jans, 1485

With these words, I am transported to Giotto’s frescoes in the Arena Chapel at Padua. I am here with my son, Nicolas. He is 12. And I am explaining the frescoes to him. He sees that amongst those men hitting and whipping Christ, is a black man. (Figure 15) Nicolas is incensed. An intolerable combination of cruelty and racism.

Figure 15. Mocking of Christ, Giotto, Arena Chapel, Padua, 1300-1305

Finally, the moment that we have all been waiting for. The Hallelujah Chorus. We all get to our feet and percussionists and the men with their horns slip into their places in the orchestra. The conductor is waiting for all of us. And then the singing, the glorious singing begins, “…King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. Hallelujah!”

Why do we stand for this chorus? According to legend, it’s because when King George II attended a performance, he was so moved, that he stood up. And if the king stands up, so does everyone else. But no one has been able to corroborate this legend either with newspaper accounts or eyewitness reports. So, nobody really knows how it started or why. But as early as the 1750s, people were on their feet, as the audience was when I heard it last week. And it feels festive and right, to stand when people sing about good overpower evil.

Then the conundrum and surprise. We don’t want the Hallelujah Chorus to end, but when it does, we want the performance to be over. And while those of us who know what is coming, sit down and settle ourselves back into our seats as best we can, the newbies are nothing but surprised, even shocked to understand that there’s more to come.

Thankfully, Part III is short. The singers’ lines are from Corinthians, Christ as the Redeemer, the new Adam. “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (Figure 16). And from Romans, the comforting words, “If God be for us, who can be against us?”

Figure 16. Christ as the New Adam (Adam as the Fall of Mankind, Christ as the Salvation)

But, alas, whose God? Well, never mind. Handel’s Messiah is sublime.

Below are some very kind comments about my ballades (wanderings) in San Francisco, for which I am truly grateful. I am linking this newsletter to my post on Edvard Munch: Munch: the miseries and mysteries of mankind.

Happy Chanukah, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I’ll be back on January 8.

Gros Bisous!

New comments on psychedelic sandwiches:

I had to eat lunch right after reading this. Nothing like the places you described are here in Baltimore. Deedee

Beverly, I particularly enjoyed today’s San Francisco Edition of your weekly Musings, which reminded me of some local attractions I hadn’t visited for a while, and opened my eyes to several others, entirely new! Such as Dutch Crunch Bread!! And the mural on Haight Street!!! Thank you! I’m glad to know that you’re spending your time here so enjoyably!!!! Mark, SF

Have I mentioned lately how much I enjoy your blog? The Haight brought back lots of fun ( and slightly clouded) memories! Peace and love, John, N. California

Dear Beverly,
 Ha ha....I could never understand nor appreciate "Colette" , in Paris. And I could not buy into the SF Hippie Scene.(I came to SF in 1976) But dutch crunch,I can totally relate to and LOVE, TOO.Thanks for the reminder..
I so miss all the musées of Paris and London, but for now I am in the Bay Area....
Oh well, the boat rocks on...
Such different experiences, but , hope to run into you soon around here!
Jacquelyn G., N. California