Well, here we are: fourth Sunday before Christmas, so it must be Advent. Time for seasonal music as we prepare for the celebration of Christ’s birth.
It’s hard for non-Christians (and even for a lot of
self-proclaimed Christians; looking at you, evangelicals) sometimes to
understand that Advent is meant to be a quiet period of reflection,
contemplation and preparation, not a frenzy of mandatory jollity, festive
frivolities and conspicuous consumption.
Yeah, good luck with that—we’re swimming against the tide
here. But every year I do my best to pull back some, slow down (ha!) and try to
consider quietude as an option.
This, of course, does not include music, so let’s strap in
and get ready for 25 days of Christmas and other seasonal music. (You know I’m
Catholic, not parochial.)
Most of the ten years I’ve posted for Advent, I’ve mixed
old favorites with new discoveries, as I tried to expand my approach to the
season. This year, given what the American electorate unleashed on the world, I’m
feeling the need to draw in a bit, to focus on comfort and hope.
Which is appropriate today, as the theme of Advent I is
hope—anticipating the arrival of the Messiah, who will flood the world with
light.
Light was a big deal for people whose lives were pretty
much circumscribed by the rising and falling of the sun. Many of the traditions
that have become part of Advent and Christmas revolve around pre-Christian
customs of defying the darkness and cold of winter by burning things, making
noise to wake up sleeping Nature and singing rather bolshy songs about various
types of beverages. Well get to all that later.
My offering for Advent I is “Veni, Veni, Emmanuel”, whose
text dates from Eighth or Nineth Century monastic life. It’s related to the O
Antiphons, Magnificat plainchant refrains sung at vespers (evening worship) during
the final seven days of Advent. However, it seems to me it’s appropriate for
the opening of this liturgical season. It speaks of the advent of Emmanuel—the personification
of “God be with us”—to deliver the world (identified as Israel) from sin,
warfare and darkness.
“Veni, Veni” came to the English tradition via Germany (as
did so many Christmas hymns and carols). We Anglophones know it as “O Come, O
Come, Emmanuel”. The Latin “Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel nascetur pro te, Israel” has
become “Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.”
Here it’s performed by The Gesualdo Six, a small British group devoted to renaissance polyphony. I like their restraint
in a song that often ends up being a Katy-bar-the-door choral blow-out.
©2024 Bas Bleu
No comments:
Post a Comment