The Richness of Music in Worship

As Episcopalians, we are steeped in a rich, musical history that has heralded, and rightly so, much acclaim and notoriety.   Thomas Tallis, George Herbert, Charles Wesley, John Merbecke, John Sheppard, Ralph Vaughan, Percy Dearmer, Margaret Street, Graham and Betty Pulkingham, George Mims, a few names that merely scratch the surface amongst the "who's who" in Anglican/Episcopal Church music.  However, at times, and sadly so, this musical accomplishment goes unnoticed and under-appreciated.  At St. Nicholas, we work at incorporating several musical traditions, embracing the historical background and musical styes of other faith communities while implementing and basking in our unique and beautiful Anglican/Episcopal musical heritage. 

On March 3, our choir endeavored and succeeded in performing a most hauntingly beautiful piece of music, "Libera Me" from Requiem by Gabriel Fauré. 

Libera Me from Faure's Requiem

Fauré's Requiem has a much deeper and notable history; a history worth sharing.  So, without any further ado, enjoy this story -- submitted by Bob DeHaven -- of how Requiem came to be.

 

Gabriel Fauré(1845 -1924) was a composer, organist, pianist and teacher. He was one of the foremost French composers of his generation, and his musical style influenced many 20th-century composers. Among his best-known works is his Requiem, first published in 1900. The original version of Requiemcontained just four movements, and expanded several times. Part VI, Libera Me, which introduced a whiff of brimstone previously missing, was originally written as a stand-alone work in 1877. It was added to the Requiem by the time of its first publication in 1900.
 

Fauré was born into a cultured but not especially musical family. His talent became clear when he was a small boy. Perhaps one of the most haunting images from his life is that of the old blind woman sitting in the chapel adjoining the Ecole Normale at Montgauzy, listening raptly to the little boy playing harmonium for hours on end. At that point, young Gabriel had had no musical training, but simply loved the sound of the instrument, and so played with it, seeking those combinations most pleasing to the ear. And the old lady returned, again and again sitting in the otherwise empty chapel to listen and chat with the boy and give him advice. Eventually she told his father, who taught at the school, about his gift for music.

 

A lifetime later, in a letter written when he was almost as close to the end of his life as that little boy in Montgauzy had been to the beginning, Fauré recalled the famous work he'd composed in the middle of his life. The Requiem, he wrote, was created purely "for the pleasure of it." But in taking up that work in the fall of 1887, it was natural and inevitable that his thoughts would turn to things of the spirit, to the fact of his own mortality, and especially to recollections of the loved ones he had lost. This included his father, who died in 1885 (his mother died just as he was close to completing the Requiem, though he was unable to finish it in time for her funeral). I can't help but feel that Fauré must have thought, too, of the old blind woman, by then long dead, whose name is now lost to posterity (had he forgotten it? Did he ever know it in the first place?), the woman who, by listening to him so intently, affirmed the value of his childhood musical explorations. What an extraordinary gift. One can't help but wonder if Fauré sensed her hovering in the back of his imagination, listening to all the music he wrote, ever after.

Fauré himself said of the work, "Everything I managed to entertain by way of religious illusion I put into my Requiem, which moreover is dominated from beginning to end by a very human feeling of faith in eternal rest." He told an interviewer, "It has been said that my Requiem does not express the fear of death and someone has called it a lullaby of death. But it is thus that I see death: as a happy deliverance, an aspiration towards happiness above, rather than as a painful experience."

Look for our choir to sing another piece, Sanctus, from

Requiem on Palm Sunday, along with Pieta by Joseph Martin.

-Manny

manny@stnicholasepiscopal.org 

We encourage you to experience the entire Triduum (Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and the Great Vigil of Easter) this year. Here are some words about what we'll experience together during Holy Week:

Three Days *

The Three Days (or Triduum) slow down time as we move through the climax of the story of faith, Jesus' betrayal, death, and resurrection. Worship throughout the rest of the year skims the surface in some ways, whisking us through the story of Jesus' life. But in these three days we linger. There is so much centered here. We have to take our time to be able to receive it.

Worship on these days will cover it all: creation and redemption, death and life, fire and water, desolation and celebration. These days enact the great Christian drama, and the liturgies are, in many ways, dramas that embody the story, the tensions, and the teachings at the core of our faith.

The Triduum liturgies are, in effect, one continuous rite spread over three consecutive days. Thus, there is no blessing or dismissal until the conclusion of the First Mass of the Resurrection on Easter Eve.

This evening marks the beginning of the Triduum. We reach back to the beginning of Lent to recall the confession we made on Ash Wednesday. This service is clearly different from the regular flow of the Eucharist as we celebrate it weekly, because what we commemorate this evening is different. Tonight we begin a celebration that will not end until the exultant conclusion of the Great Paschal Vigil. Tonight, we hear the words of forgiveness in a new way. It is only with the knowledge of being forgiven that we can engage the rest of the story. We watch and we eat a last supper with Jesus. We hear him offer all of himself to us, even his body and blood. We end the service with the stripping of the chancel. Adornment after adornment leaves the sanctuary as the words of the psalm drift through the air, and we are reminded of what this love will cost Jesus. We leave the service lingering. It is holy time.

When we return to the sanctuary on Good Friday, hours have passed. We hear about Jesus' betrayal, capture and trial. We hear of his humiliation, his interrogation. We know the night was long for him, and lonely. Our visual center is the cross. There is nothing else to distract us. The pace is slow, as those final hours must have been for him. We move relentlessly toward the end. We pray, interceding for the world around us, for our church, and ourselves. We are reminded that Jesus' death was paradoxically, the moment of his triumph. Through his death, he defeated death.  

Now we are almost there, almost at the hour when Jesus' death itself was overcome, the death become life -- the victory we so need. Now time stands still for us to remember all that has gone before. No other service is so full of the heritage of faith; no other time in the year do we gather together all of the richest metaphors and symbols of faith. We gather around new fire, itself a sign of creation renewed. From it we light the paschal candle to illumine our way. As the pillar of fire led the people of Israel in the wilderness, so the paschal candle will lead us to Easter -- the light of Christ our beacon. In the silence from Good Friday, the light is rekindled. Gathered around the light, we wrap the great stories of faith like a blanket around ourselves. We recall our ancestors and God's saving work among us throughout the ages -- creation from a word, the earth washed clean in the flood, the deliverance at the Red Sea, dry bones given life again. The baptismal font beckons to affirm our baptisms, to remember our welcome into the community of faith, and to welcome others newborn into the faith. The Gospel reading draws us out of our holy recollections and into the events of the story again. Now we are prepared. We know where we have come from before we peek into the tomb with the women and Peter. When we hear the angel say, He is not here, but has risen, we know again that life is always God's way with us. Death is defeated. We dance through the holy meal, now each one confessing the truth of the story. Light the church! Shout Alleluia! Celebrate with high praise! He is risen!

*Adapted from Sundays and Seasons 2004 (Augsburg/Fortress, 2003), pp. 158-159.  

Bob Kalicki: for successful surgery, a quick and complete recovery and a return back home in tip-top health and shape.
 
Brent Anderson,a life-long friend of Jim McQuade:  Brent died in a car accident, suffering a heart attack while driving.  May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.  Amen.

Glenna Kleinsmith, a friend and former Holy Innocent's member who is recovering from surgery to remove a malignant tumor from her abdomen: that she regain full and sound health and is able to return home to family and friends.
 
Thelma Malecek: In thanksgiving for a successful medical procedure.

Joanne Mangiaracina: she recover fully and completely and is back with us very soon, God willing, this coming weekend.

Frank Skepnek, a friend of St. Nicholas and a locksmith who has done some work for us:  his upcoming medical procedure goes well and he is home soon, fully healed and mended.

In thanksgiving for Hope Smith's return home after her hospital stay.

In thanksgiving for Cathy Walters, Mindy Golden's sister, decision to pursue and continue her medical procedures in Los Angeles, to be close to family.

Quenten Fabiano, a friend of St. Nicholas was in a serious car accident and has suffered severe brain damage:  pray for his full and complete recovery and for the strength and perseverance of his family and friends. 

Pam Hallman: facing more surgery, we pray she recover fully, completely and soon.

Ken, the brother of our Mary Beth Jarvis who suffered a stroke on Christmas Eve.  Ken is currently in critical condition, having lost sight in his left eye and motion on his left side.  Pray for Ken, his recovery and his well being and pray for his family and friends for strength and support.

Marcia Kizior, sister of Bob DeHaven, who is in poor health.

Pamela Joy DeHaven, in thanksgiving for recovery and continued remission.   

The Fifth Sunday in Lent

Chalice Bearers:   Georgette Schroeder & Sandra Glos