Jeremy Rosen

George Handel, though born in Germany, became a favourite with British audiences in the eighteenth century. His oratorio The Messiah, performed first in Dublin in 174, is one of the most popular pieces of church music of all time. It is a lengthy religious, ideological tour de force. Written initially by Handel as sacred music alone, it was set to words from both the “Old” and the “New” Testaments by Charles Jennens. Over time, it went through several musical changes until its final form entered the musical and theological canon.

What music lover doesn’t recognise the “Hallelujah chorus”?  Haleluya itself is a pure Hebrew word that means simply “Praise God.” In the same way that Amen has no theological implication other than “I agree.”

At its London performance, King George II rose during the Hallelujah chorus, and of course, the rest of the audience followed suit.  Even Mozart wrote his own adaptation of “The Messiah” in German. And traditionally, it is still performed every year in many Christian countries at Christmas time.

I happened to walk past as it was being performed recently in the David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Centre and piped onto a public screen in the foyer. Curiosity and opportunity got the better of me, and I listened to part of an outstanding performance. Jane Glover was the conductor, Amanda Forsythe the soprano (her dressmaker should have been fired for the décolleté). Kevin Deas was the bass. And John Holiday, the counter tenor, was resplendent in a garish outfit that would be more in place in a louche nightclub. But his singing was absolutely divine and expressive. What a treat it was.

Another example of Baroque biblical oratorio is the Haydn “Creation.” Written in 1797 and 1798, it depicts and celebrates the creation of the world as found in Bereishit. It was published with the text in German and English in 1800. Haydn was an overlapping contemporary of Handel. Similar in musical style, though not as spiritual. Although frankly, as with Handel, unless you have been blessed with sitzfleisch, I find it rather long and for us pensioners, best listened to in excerpts.

If you don’t like the Baroque style, I suggest you listen to Verdi’s Requiem (often referred to as his greatest opera). It was my uncle Henry who introduced me to Verdi’s Requiem as a teenager, when he gifted me the recording of the great Russian Soprano Galina Vishnevskaya. I asked my father if it was OK to listen to it, and he gave his consent. And since then, I got hooked on Requiems. Notably those of Mozart, Saint-Saens, Bruckner and Faure.  I loved the music. But I had enormous trouble with the lyrics. They were a combination of a Christian theology that was totally alien to me. Biblical texts that purported to predict Jesus as the Messiah were completely distorted, mistranslated, and anachronistic. Handel only wrote the music and had no hand in writing the lyrics.
Although, of course, every religion is as entitled as we are to have their fixed ideas, and see things and interpret them their way. You just have to read the Christian academic theologian Elaine Pagels’ The Historical Mystery of Jesus to see that Christians cannot agree on who or what Jesus was or did, or whether he actually existed.

Another piece of non-Jewish religious music that inspired me is Elgar’s Dream of Gerontius. Elgar’s music is uplifting and inspiring. But the words are by Cardinal Newman, a passionate convert to Catholicism. He imagines the journey of the soul of the human body from this world transitioning to the next. That process, in itself, is hardly offensive, but of course, given Newman’s theology, it is not neutral at all. And incidentally, the only Requiem that does not deviate in words from our Bible and is completely kosher, is Johannes Brahms’s Deutsche Requiem. 

So that while one part of my brain was delighting in the music, another was getting vexed by the mistranslations, interpretations and theological paradoxes. Can one reconcile these two very different facets of such musical treats?  Can one be said to be giving one’s assent to another set of religious values and ideas if one is only interested in the sounds, not the words?

Of course, the religious problem is that one is not supposed to listen to a theology that contradicts ours. And some (not all) consider aspects of Christianity to be close to idolatry in their emphasis on religious icons and endowing humans with Divine characteristics. Quite apart from the fact that we do not believe the Messiah has come, and they clearly do. The great Provençal Rabbi Menachem Meiri (1249-1315) argued that what defines idolatry is not how people worship, but whether they are ethical or not.

And yet, rather like admiring architecture, can one not enjoy music? Without identifying theologically?  Isn’t it one of the Chassidic principles that music is neutral and cannot contaminate?  This explains why so many Chassidic songs were adopted from non-Jewish tunes, and various authorities have asserted that music is neutral. An issue that is, however, controversial in the context of the antisemitic Wagner.

Another argument I could make is that the Talmud (Brachot 58b) tells us to make a blessing when we see a beautiful person, even if he or she may be either pagan or of questionable morality. In fact, there are different opinions within Jewish law going back to Medieval times as to what constitutes heresy or paganism. In the end, one follows one’s specific authority or custom. We will just have to face the consequences when we face the Divine Tribunal!

Rabbi Jeremy Rosen lives in New York. He was born in Manchester. His writings are concerned with religion, culture, history and current affairs – anything he finds interesting or relevant. They are designed to entertain and to stimulate. Disagreement is always welcome.