Vecheri Tvoyeya Tanïya - "Of Thy Mystical Supper"

This week (and next) we come to the second of four movements of Alexander Gretchaninoff's Passion Week we'll be singing during Lent. 

Vecheri Tvoyeya Tanïya ("Of Thy Mystical Supper") is, liturgically speaking, a Communion hymn - part of a prayer said or sung just prior to Communion in the Orthodox Church. And because it's so central to the liturgy, it's been set by just about every Russian composer you can think of - and quite a few you probably can't. I found more than 20 versions on iTunes, and they don't have nearly all of them.

In fact, this isn't the first setting of the piece the St. Barnabas Choir has sung. In 2006 we sang a lovely version by Alexei Lvov (1799-1870). 

A translation of the text we're singing:

Of Thy Mystical Supper, O Son of God,
accept me today as a partaker:
for I will not speak of Thy mystery to Thine enemies, 
neither like Judas will I give Thee a kiss,
but like the thief I will confess Thee:
"Remember me, O Lord, in Thy Kingdom."

What to Listen For

One of the first things you may notice is the low bass sound. It's really low. In fact, the 2nd Bass singers spend a full 40% of the piece not just on low notes, not just in the bass clef, but below the bass clef! They have long, low tones which act as a framework against which the other parts alternatively push and resolve. This is quintessential Russian chorale territory.

And mentioning 2nd basses brings up another aspect of many Russian chorales: All the parts - Soprano, Alto, Tenor and Bass - are divisi, i.e., divided into 1st and 2nd parts. This 8-part harmony is considerably more complex than our usual 4-part fare - the kind of scoring we're used to in our hymnals, too.

Part of the reason for this is simply the wide span of the music - three octaves and a third. This is a full octave greater span than many of the anthems we sing, and it takes a lot of parts to cover the span.

Another factor in this complexity is the fact this particular movement - and several others in Passion Week - was originally written for two choirs, each divided into eight parts! It took a bit of editing gymnastics to get it to work with a single choir, but we did it - it's all there.

The piece has 4 main sections. The first, which introduces a stunningly beautiful motif sung by the sopranos, carries the text

Of Thy Mystical Supper, O Son of God,
accept me today as a partaker:

It's a passionate plea, with some startling complex harmonies - can you say, 11th chord? - as the section rises to a climax before ending quietly, prayerfully.

The second section begins with the men singing in quiet octaves, almost in a whisper:

for I will not speak of Thy mystery to Thine enemies,

which the women echo in what are again, somewhat complex harmonies over the bass drone.

The section rises to a climax on the words

neither like Judas will I give Thee a kiss

before relaxing on the words

but like the thief I will confess Thee.

The third section sets the final phrase

"Remember me, O Lord, in Thy Kingdom."

again, starting softly, building to a huge climax, then, once again, relaxing. After the peak, as the music relaxes, the sopranos once again sound their lovely motif from the beginning of the piece.

The last section is something we don't generally sing in Lent - it's an Alleluia. But it's not the kind of Alleluia we'll be singing at Easter. This is quiet, prayerful - an instance of what the Orthodox Church calls, "Solemn joy." And right before the end, as the rest of the sections are holding long chords, the sopranos bring in the initial motif for one last appearance.

We'll offer the piece at the 10:30 service on March 23 and at the 9:00 service on March 30. This is beautiful, passionate, prayerful music. I hope it moves you as much as it has us while preparing it.

"Sṽéte tiẖiy" - "Gladsome Light"

The Senior Choir begins our Russian pilgrimage for Lent with the beautiful Sṽéte tiẖiy (Gladsome Light). We'll offer this piece at the 10:30 service on March 9 and again at the 9:00 service on March 16.

Svete (pronounced SVYEH-teh) is the 4th movement of Alexander Gretchaninoff's 13-part Passion Week. We'll sing it as Gretchaninoff set it, in the original Old Church Slavonic.

The text is an ancient Christian hymn, Phos Hilaron, originally written in New Testament Greek by an anonymous author in the late 3rd or early 4th century. It is one of the earliest known Christian hymns still in use today.

Around the time it was composed, a lamp was kept perpetually burning in the empty tomb of Christ in Jerusalem, its glow a symbol of the living light of Jesus. As Christians gathered to worship the hymn was sung and, in a tradition known as the lighting of the lamps, a candle lit from the lamp was brought forth from the tomb, its bright, solitary flame calling the church to celebrate the Risen Lord.

The original melody, as used by the Greek Orthodox Church on the original text, is pretty taxing on the voice, as it spans almost two octaves (most hymns we sing span just one octave). Gretchaninoff's setting is more singable, with the most demanding voice range rising only an octave and a third.

The hymn is a fixed part of the Orthodox vespers service, sung or recited daily.

And there's a modernized version of it in our ELW hymnal - #561, Joyous Light of Heavenly Glory.

What to listen for
This setting is almost entirely homophonic, meaning the voices move together, in the same rhythm, much like the congregation does when singing a hymn. You might think, in such a case, emphasis would be given to the highest voice, the first sopranos - just like we do when singing hymns. But this isn't quite the case here - frequently, throughout the piece, the sopranos are staying in a very narrow range (sometimes just 1 or 2 notes for a few measures). The musical excitement here is going on in the lower parts - primarily the bass, but also in the inner alto and tenor parts, which are filled with lovely short musical gestures.

Speaking of the basses - listen for them throughout the piece. Russian choral music relies heavily on the deep, low sounds of the bass section. The choral tone overall is somewhat darker than we may be used to, but it's almost hypnotically beautiful.

And Russian basses sing very, very low. In fact, the lowest note in many Russian chorales is a B-flat two octaves below Middle C. If you're a devotee of such things, the frequency of Middle C is about 262 Hz, i.e., 262 cycles of a sine wave per second. This B-flat is about 58 Hz, which is only about an octave and a half above the lowest note most people can hear.

Fortunately, our basses don't have to go quite that low here - though you might catch a few of them singing D-flats (69 Hz) just above that bottom.

Harmonically, the piece starts in E-flat minor (6 flats, for those of you keeping score!) - adding to the dark overall sound. It's a vespers trick, painting the darkness of the waning day with dark harmonies. But all the cadences - progressions leading to points of rest - are in G-flat major, emphasizing the fact this is a hymn of praise.

Listen for the dynamic shifts - changes in volume through the choir. These lead you through the emotional colors of the text. And even though we've stressed the importance of the basses, there's a lovely 2-measure riff for the women alone (in 4 parts, sopranos and altos each split) for the text which translates to Thou are worthy at every moment. It's a wonderfully contrasting moment.

And you might want to listen for the climax of the piece, near the end, on the words temzhe mir tia slavit - Therefore all the world glorifies Thee.

On the other hand, you may just want to sit back, maybe close your eyes, and let this beautiful first choral offering of Lent take you where it will.

Sṽéte tiẖiy sṽiatïya slávï Bezsmértnago,
Ottsá Ñebésnago, Sṽiatágo, Blazhénnago, Iisúse Hristé.
Prishédshe na západ sólntsa,
ṽídefshe sṽet ṽechérñiy,
poyém Ottsá, Sïna i Sṽiatágo Dúẖa, Bóga.
Dostóin yesí vo fsia vremená
pet bíti glásï prepodóbnïmi,
Síñe Bózhïy, zhïvót dayáy,
témzhe mir Tia sláṽit.

Gladsome Light of the holy glory of the Immortal One – 

the Heavenly Father, holy and blessed – O Jesus Christ!

Now that we have come to the setting of the sun,

and behold the light of evening,

we praise the Father, Son and Holy Spirit – God. 

Thou art worthy at every moment

to be praised in hymns by reverent voices.

O Son of God, Thou art the Giver of Life; 

therefore all the world glorifies Thee.

Gretchaninoff's "Passion Week"

The choir's music for the five Sundays of Lent preceding Palm Sunday and the music for our Good Friday evening service all share a common composer - in fact, each of the pieces is taken from a larger, multi-movement work.

The large work is Passion Week, by Russian composer Alexander Gretchaninoff (1864-1956).

Had it not been for the stubborn opposition of his uneducated father, who could barely read, Grechaninov may have developed sooner. He began study on the piano at the relatively late age of 14, mainly owing to the urging of a caring sister-in-law. Grechaninov enrolled at the Moscow Conservatory in 1881 over the objections of his father.

He left Moscow in 1890 for further study with Rimsky-Korsakov at the St. Petersburg Conservatory. His Concert Overture (1892 - 1893) gave Grechaninov his first success, and his 1894 String Quartet captured a prize at the Belyayev Chamber Music Competition. He supported himself and his wife (whom he married in 1891) during this time as a piano teacher.

In the first decade of the twentieth century, Grechaninov arranged many songs of ethnic origin for children, producing several popular numbers and giving him great prominence among Russian composers. In 1906, he accepted teaching posts at the Moscow Conservatory and Gnessin School of Music. Throughout his career, Grechaninov composed many works in the sacred genre and in recognition of this continuing work, the Tsarist government granted him a yearly stipend of 2,000 rubles. 

After the Bolshevik Revolution, he lost the stipend and ultimately his faith in his homeland, feeling his religious and political convictions were at odds with those of the Communist regime. After several trips abroad, he emigrated to Paris in 1925, where he established a career as a pianist and still managed to devote much time to composition.

In 1929, he made the first of several trips to the United States, a country he felt increasingly drawn toward. In 1939, he emigrated to the United States, ultimately making New York his home (1940). He became a U.S. citizen in 1949, at the age of 85.

Passion Week, composed in 1911, premiered in 1912, then lay dormant for 80 years, finally being revived in the early 1990s by the Russian State Symphonic Cappella. A 2007 recording of the work by the Phoenix Bach Choir and Kansas City Chorale brought it international attention.

Passion Week is made up of 13 choral pieces, each setting a text from an Orthodox liturgy or from scripture. The texts are written (and will be sung) in Old Church Slavonic (roughly akin to the Ecclesiastical Latin in pre-Vatican II Catholic masses) - don't panic; we'll include a translation.

We'll be presenting 4 of the works - 3 during the first 5 weeks of Lent, the fourth on Good Friday.

The texts are fascinating; while they refer to stories and concepts altogether familiar to us, they often use an imagery very different from that to which we're accustomed. The opening line of the work we'll sing the evening of Good Friday is a good example; it refers to Christ as:

     Thou, who clothes Thyself with light as a garment

Nothing objectionable there; it's just a different way of looking at a familiar scene (this one happens to be about taking Christ down from the cross).

I'll have more to say about the individual texts as we proceed through Lent.

But the texts, interesting as they are, pale next to the music. Simply put, this is stunningly gorgeous music. It relies heavily on the bass section, and their deep, sonorous voices help create a solemn tone in each piece. The music is never in a hurry; think of long arcs, think of high, old cathedrals, think of mountain valleys - think of anything majestic and a little bit larger than life.

The function of this music in our worship is a little bit different from our usual anthems. Our standard practice is to present choral works which either reinforce one of the lessons of the day or provide a general element of praise to God.

These pieces are more to carve out a moment in the service when you might commune with God, an extra moment of meditation or prayer, perhaps. I think the best way to listen to these works is to close your eyes and let the music take you where it will. Their majesty and solemnity tell us that God is bigger and more powerful than anything which confronts us.

I hope you will be as moved by the music of Passion Week as are those of us preparing to share it with you.

The Senior Choir Sings the Blues

This week's lectionary relates the story of Jesus meeting a Samaritan woman at a well. The choir is hard at work, preparing an anthem based on this story, helping to reinforce at least part of the message of the morning. Congregants at the 10:30 service will hear the piece.

Now, we've sung a number of masterworks over the last several years, including Renaissance motets and mass movements, excerpts from oratorios by Handel and Mendelssohn, Bach chorales, a portion of the Brahms Requiem, sublime sacred music from Russia and major works of more recent vintage.

This will not be one of them. But I think we'll still have a good time.

The anthem for this Sunday is Jesus Met the Woman at the Well. Readers of a certain age may remember the tune from recordings by Peter, Paul and Mary. Readers of another certain age may remember performances of it by the Pilgrim Travelers, or by Mahalia Jackson, Rev. Gary Davis or Bob Dylan.

It's difficult to ascertain just where the song came from - it's invariably listed as "Traditional" on record labels. It seems to have been a big Gospel hit during the 1940s and 50s, moving more into a folk idiom with the 1964 PP&M release, which seems to be based more on Mahalia Jackson's 1954 recording than on Bob Dylan's performances of the song in 1961 and 1963.

Regardless of the style, one element runs true throughout: this is a blues song. It may not have strict blues musical structure, but it's the blues.

You can tell this from two things.

First, the structure of the lyrics. The first verse is:

   Jesus met the woman at the well,
   Jesus met the woman at the well,
   Jesus met the woman at the well,
   and he told her everything she'd ever done.

This AAAB configuration is common in blues lyrics (as is AAB, which Dylan used). Every verse has the same structure - AAAB, and there's no chorus. Repetition is a hallmark of the blues, and this song nails it.

Secondly, the chord structure suggests the blues. It's not exactly the standard 12-bar blues one might expect, which would look something like this:

   A-A-A-A7
   D-D7-A-A7
   E7-D7-A-A

Jesus Met the Woman uses 16-bar phrases. It looks something like this:

   A-A-A-A7
   D-D-A-A7
   D-D-C#7-F#m
   B-B7-E-E9
 
Even with their differences there's a great similarity between the two progressions, with them being virtually identical in the first 2 phrases of the song.

So, we'll be singing the blues this Sunday. Wear your toe-tapping shoes.

'Tis the season...

One of the many joys of working at St. Barnabas is the opportunity to make music with so many talented people - both members and guest musicians.

The Senior Choir has been in rare form this fall - I hope you've had a chance to catch them. I've thrown a very challenging schedule at them - 10 of the 16 tunes we'll have done by Christmas Eve have been new to all or most of the choir. That's 62.5%. Usually, church choir directors figure having about a third of the repertoire new is ample challenge for an amateur group.

But the Choir has risen to the challenge - and just as a side note, their attendance at rehearsals has been nothing short of stellar. And that's a very good thing. Some of our rehearsals remind me of a Music History teacher I had who spoke so fast, covering so much material, that if you broke the lead in your pencil (yes, this was Back In the Day), you missed 200 years.

Our rehearsals are a lot like that. Singers come ready to work, and I try to see they're not disappointed. ;)

We've also had a run of wonderful guest artists - violin, cello, brass, percussion - who have added wonderfully to our worship in music.

And that's about to kick into high gear, starting this week.

At Sunday's second service, the Choir will be singing Maple Grove resident Lloyd Larson's Joy of Every Longing Heart, an anthem which smashes together a 4th-Century Christmas text, its 19th-Century translation (Of the Father's Love Begotten), a 13th-Century plainsong (chant) and - finally - the 1723 10th and last movement of Bach's cantata Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben (Heart and Mouth and Deed and Life): a tune we know as Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring - which is actually an early-20th-Century translation by English physician Robert Bridges of a 1681 poem by German poet Martin Jahn.

The result of all this musical carnage is not nearly so irritating as you might expect. To begin with, it certainly doesn't hurt to be pairing a couple of very strong tunes, each well able to stand in its own right. And it all actually turns out rather nicely, especially when you add to the mix LOMOMO (Laid Off Musicians of the Minnesota Orchestra - speaking of musical carnage) violinist and SBCA teacher Alexandra Early and amazing Wayzata High School Senior cellist Maggie Matejcek on the noodles (violin) and figured bass line (cello) of Bach's piece.

Composer Larson starts the piece out as something of a quodlibet - think of it as a musical mashup, alternating and overlaying tunes - but before long he ditches the plainsong altogether, keeping only its words and stringing them out on the Bach melody.

And now you know way more than you ever wanted to know about the Choir's 4 minutes of fame this coming Sunday. And no, you will never get those 4 minutes back. But I think you'll be okay with the tradeoff.

Just a bit more about these two talented musical guests. Jesu probably sounds a little more difficult than it actually is, especially for players of this ilk. It seemed a shame to bring them out here for just 4 minutes, so we're asking them to join Dr. Mary Newton in a trio for the preludes on Sunday. They'll be playing a setting of Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus - but quite possibly not the tune you associate with these words attributed to Charles Wesley. As a hymn text, it's something of a shameless hussy, sitting down with the tune Jefferson in Lutheran hymnals, but playing fast and loose with Hyfrydol - Love Divine, All Loves Excelling in ELW parlance - in Episcopalian, Methodist and just about everyone else's hymnal.

All except the Presbyterians. Apparently they couldn't make up their minds, so they included Hyfrydol, but they also sing it to yet a third tune, Stuttgart (ELW: everyone's toe-tapping favorite, Crashing Waters at Creation). It's the kind of thing that happens when your text has a metrical index of 8 7 8 7 D - that's a line of 8 syllables, then a line of 7 syllables, then 8 again, then 7 more. The D means the pattern is repeated in each verse - making it actually 8 7 8 7 8 7 8 7. It's a common metrical setup - it applies to 34 hymns in ELW.

This is one sassy text, I have to say.

We picked the Hyfrydol version because it shows off the considerable skills of our visitors; I hope you'll enjoy it.

Even if it is the wrong tune.

No ganging aft a-gley

This week's Biblical text includes the story of Manna in the Wilderness. This was an easy one to find music to fit - after a fashion.

First off, the Handbell Choir makes its debut this Sunday, offering the prelude at both services.

Their selection will be Holy Manna (I told you it was an easy fit), a setting by Susan Geschke of one of the oldest American folk hymns. This Appalachian tune first appeared in 1825's Columbian Harmony, a four-note shaped note tune book published by William Moore, who wrote the music. Moore wrote the tune as a setting for Brethren, We Have Met to Worship, an 1819 hymn lyric by George Atkins. Atkins was a Methodist pastor and newspaperman. Not much is known of Moore, other than he, like Atkins, lived in Tennessee.

The tune is folklike in both its form and use of the pentatonic (5-note) scale. The AABA form, also known as rounded bar form, consists of a verse, a second verse, a bridge, and a third verse. It's called rounded because of the return of the verse after the bridge. Each verse usually has a different set of words.


The AABA form has been heavily used in popular music - think Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I Got Rhythm, I Want to Hold Your Hand, You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' - you get the idea.


The pentatonic scale? Think using just the black keys on a piano. It's been used all over the world - it's very basic to Chinese, Japanese and Mongolian music, Javanese Gamelan, Scottish music and Appalachian tunes. Some of our favorite hymns are based on it - Amazing Grace, for instance.

The Handbell Choir's presentation has a little fun with the tune. The hymn itself is usually pretty uptempo, anyway, and the arranger played facilitates this by calling for the entire piece to be played with mallets. The group has fun with the mallets, and we hope you'll enjoy this prelude.

Susan Geschke has for 10 years been the Director of Music at Immanuel Lutheran Church in Crystal Lake, Illinois. She's published 75+ handbell pieces.

Worshipers at the 10:30 service will get a double portion of the Holy Manna hymn tune - the choir's presenting an anthem version of the original hymn (really easy fit, eh?). The setting is a cappella (without accompaniment), and I think listening to it will take you back to Early America - though it has a couple of interesting harmonic twists along the way.


In this hymn, the final A of the form (AABA, remember?) is either this line or some variant of it:
Brethren, pray, and holy manna will be showered all around.


The choral version has a few very nice canonic structures in it. In music, a canon is a round - like Row, Row Row Your Boat or Frère Jacques. Pentatonic tunes (black keys, remember?) are particularly well-suited for canons - no half-steps ganging merrily aft a-gley to make utter hash of your once well-tuned harmonies. Pentatonic canons sort of police themselves and keep the train on the rails.

This arrangement was done by John Carter, who was until recently Director of Music at University Baptist Church in Columbus, Ohio. Carter is a well-known composer with several hundred choral compositions to his credit as well as several musicals, an opera, and a dozen collections for keyboard and organ.

A treat for the early service...

This Sunday's lectionary text focuses on Jacob - and includes the story of his dream about the ladder reaching up to heaven, with angels ascending and descending on it.

Craig Courtney, a composer with hundreds of publications and an impressive resume - including a six-year stint on the piano faculty of the Mozarteum in Salzburg, Austria - published a choral anthem last year galled The Gate of Heaven. It was written in memory of Burke Rice, a young man who was preparing to enter the police force. Burke's family requested the song be based on Genesis 28:15-18, which includes the text:

 Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!” And he was afraid, and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”

Lyricist Susan Bental Boersma took this request - as well as the family's wishes to incorporate the spiritual Jacob's Ladder and a cello part (in honor of Burke's best friend, a cellist) in the piece - and fashioned a sublime text, which begins:

God of the cloud and fire, my heart is in your hand.

This is a stunningly beautiful piece. The piano accompaniment, played with exquisite musicianship by Dr. Mary Newton, could stand on its own for a solo, as could the cello part, presented molto espressivo by WHS senior Maggie Matejcek. The anthem has already become a favorite of many in the choir, and I think you may well agree.

We are Climbing Jacob's Ladder arose as an African-American spiritual in the antebellum South. The words reflect confidence and hope in the face of difficult, horrible circumstances:

We are climbing Jacob’s ladder,
We are climbing Jacob’s ladder,
We are climbing Jacob’s ladder,
Soldiers of the cross.

Every round goes higher, higher,
Every round goes higher, higher,
Every round goes higher, higher,
Soldiers of the cross. 

The story of Jacob’s ladder, found in Genesis, is told in all three of the Abrahamic faith traditions. Though it might be interpreted differently in Judaism, Christianity or Islam, its basic message of connecting with God and aspiring to ascend to some higher meaning for our lives runs through the three traditions.


In his novel, The Oath, Elie Wiesel tells the story of a Jewish survivor of a pogrom, and at one point Wiesel writes:

“Through song,” said the Rebbe,“ man climbs to the highest palace.  From that palace he can influence the universe and its prisons. Song is Jacob’s ladder, forgotten on earth by the angels.  Sing and you shall defeat death, sing and you shall disarm the foe.”

Amen, and amen.