Today’s blog
Lynn Murphy Mark
A few tears
Last night I was moved to tears by a particularly beautiful performance of Handel’s Messiah. Not through the whole two plus hours, but at certain sections tears slid down my cheeks. The first time was when a young man, a soloist, sang the Alto’s solos. He is a countertenor, meaning that his vocal range mimics that of a woman singing as an Alto. He did not have a falsetto voice, just a pure upper range that was clear and touching.
This might have been the best rendition of Messiah that I have ever heard. If you know me, you know that I am so familiar with this oratorio that I can lip synch just about every word. So, to have encountered the best was a spiritual experience for me. The St. Louis Symphony orchestra, the choir, the soloists, were each excellent. The conductor played the harpsichord as he led them all through complicated sections, playing and flipping pages of his score as he indicated to the performers exactly what he wanted them to do. Watching him was delightful.
I wondered why tears, when I was in my musical heaven. The orchestra has not produced a performance of Messiah since 2018, so it’s been a long dry spell for me. I remembered when it was an annual occasion at this time of year to go to Powell Symphony Hall and admire the décor and love the live performance. I remembered the time I went the year that my mother had died in May. There is a beautiful passage: “Take his yoke upon you and he will give you rest.” I was still grieving her loss, so I was in tears when I heard those words. Suddenly I felt a hand on my left shoulder. This sensation didn’t last long but it was so real that I looked behind me to confirm that someone had reached out to me. The person behind me was sitting back enjoying the performance. I realized that my mother had touched me from a place beyond all knowing.
I remembered a passage that meant a lot to me after my dad died. He spent his last years mute, and contracted into a fetal position. It’s in a part that is mostly about Christ’s death and resurrection. For several years I had been saddened by my dad’s condition, so his death was something of a relief for all of us, and certainly for him. He died in January. That year I spent Easter with my mom and, as usual, we looked for a performance of Messiah on TV. We were not disappointed. When I heard the Tenor soloist sing the words, I thought about my dad. The words are “But thou didst not leave his soul in hell, nor didst thou suffer thy holy one to see corruption.” It is a line from Psalm 16, the King James version. That may have been the first time I realized that hell happens on earth, and that my dad had experienced it for years, and that there are things far worse than death.