rapidly secularizing society, audiences traditionally rise to their feet to show a kind of special honour for this magnificent musical confession of faith.
But there is a fly in the ointment. Within the context of the libretto which Handel used (prepared by his friend Charles Jennens), this chorus is preceded by sung versions of select verses from Psalm 2, which read as follows:
Why do the nations so furiously rage together:
why do the people imagine a vain thing?
The kings of the earth rise up,
and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord,
and against his Anointed:
“Let us break their bonds asunder,
and cast away their yokes from us.”
He that dwelleth in heaven shall laugh them to scorn:
the Lord shall have them in derision.
Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron,
thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel.
The meaning is unmistakable. The nations at large conspire against the Lord and against his Anointed, and plan to cast off all restraints that he has imposed on them. But God will only laugh at their defiance, and he (now addressed in the second person) will crush their rebellion and smash them like a piece of pottery. Then the “Hallelujah,” with its celebration of the universal triumph of God in Jesus Christ, is sung. And audiences across several continents get to their feet in symbolic endorsement.
Some years ago the Dutch-Canadian musicologist Michael Marissen, who teaches at Swarthmore College near Philadelphia, caused something of a stir by publishing an article entitled “Rejoicing against Judaism in Handel’s Messiah.” In his view, the juxtaposition of the verses from Psalm 2 and the “Hallelujah” was clear evidence that Jennens and Handel were rejoicing specifically at the great calamity which befell the Jews in AD 70, when Jerusalem was destroyed by the Romans. Although he did not claim that Handel was anti-Semitic, he did accusing him of harbouring and promoting Schadenfreude over the brutal repression which Jerusalem and the Jews experienced at the hands of the Romans. Marissen is not alone in this interpretation of Handel’s masterpiece.
Although I believe Marissen is mistaken in his view that Handel was specifically targeting Jews in Messiah, and that he had in mind specifically the fall of Jerusalem, I believe he is correct in identifying a serious religious issue that is posed for contemporary audiences by the explicitly—not to say aggressively—Christian character of this justly famous work. I do not believe it is possible to abstract its musical qualities from the religious point of its libretto. Its confessional thrust is part and parcel of the meaning of this work of musical art. To gloss over its overtly Christian message is to do injustice to both Handel and his masterpiece.
Instead, I believe we have to acknowledge that Handel’s Messiah represents the scandal of the gospel, namely the claim that Jesus Christ is the only Saviour of the world, a Saviour who brooks no rivals or competitors. Psalm 2 is right when it predicts that the Lord’s Anointed will one day be victorious over all who resist his claims. This is both a hard and a glorious truth.
During the upcoming Christmas season I will have no difficulty standing up when the choir sings the “Hallelujah.” But my heart will ache for those who take understandable offense at its uncompromising message.