Fidélium, Deus, ómnium Cónditor et Redémptor: animábus famulórum famularúmque tuárum remissiónem cunctórum tríbue peccatórum; ut indulgéntiam, quam semper optavérunt, piis supplicatiónibus consequántur.
O God, Creator and Redeemer of all the faithful, grant to the souls of Your servants and handmaids the remission of all their sins, that they may obtain by our loving prayers the forgiveness which they have always desired.
The theological basis for the feast is the doctrine that the souls which, on departing from the body, are not perfectly cleansed from venial sins, or have not fully atoned for past transgressions, are debarred from the Beatific Vision, and that the faithful on earth can help them by prayers, almsdeeds and especially by the sacrifice of the Mass.
In the early days of Christianity the names of the departed brethren were entered in the diptychs. Later, in the sixth century, it was customary in Benedictine monasteries to hold a commemoration of the deceased members at Whitsuntide. In Spain there was such a day on Saturday before Sexagesima or before Pentecost, at the time of St. Isidore (d. 636). In Germany there existed (according to the testimony of Widukind, Abbot of Corvey, c. 980) a time-honoured ceremony of praying to the dead on 1 October.
This was accepted and sanctified by the Church. St. Odilo of Cluny (d. 1048) ordered the commemoration of all the faithful departed to be held annually in the monasteries of his congregation. Thence it spread among the other congregations of the Benedictines and among the Carthusians. …
A similar concession for the entire world was asked of Pope Leo XIII. He would not grant the favour but ordered a special Requiem on Sunday, 30 September, 1888. In the Greek Rite this commemoration is held on the eve of Sexagesima Sunday, or on the eve of Pentecost. The Armenians celebrate the passover of the dead on the day after Easter.
Not to sperg out here, but the Dies Irae is super popular in contemporary culture, and always has been. Check it out in the following movies. You have to listen diligently in some of these – but it’s there.
Pirates of the Carribean
It’s a Wonderful Life
Lord of the Rings
The Lion King
Star Wars (I’m actually not hearing it here.)
Many In Film Music in General
Last (here at least), and most spectacularly, the Excommunication Scene from Becket.
O God, Lord of mercies, grant to the souls of Your servants and handmaids a lasting place of refreshment, the blessedness of rest and the splendor of Your light.
Zadok the Priest and Nathan the Prophet anointed Solomon King.
The choral entrance is spectacular here.
Has a composer ever done more with ten words and a few chords and tones? A stunning choral entrance. Then follows a fun dance as all the people rejoice – it’s much better in the live version at the actual coronation where people are actually rejoicing for the first time in ages after the end of WWII – and of course it ends with a thrilling hallelujah because Handel.
When I visited Westminster Abbey, I walked around looking for George Frederick Handel’s grave. I finally found it off in one of the side areas. People walk to and fro casually, it’s surrounded by flats of chairs and things. No one notices the grave or pays attention, it’s just a stone in the floor that people walk by constantly.
I was having a religious experience and wondering what music they played at his funeral. What was like to experiment with his compositions for the first time in the Abbey back in the day?
Listening to the anthem while driving around, via Apple Music in the Subaru, I can’t help but think – “Oh just crown the woman.” This is a great culture to keep alive – even if they’re in our Catholic Abbey and must revert one day for the benefit of their immortal souls.
But if they do, they might use guitars instead of Handel Coronation anthems. And the world is so quick to get rid of Catholic monarchies these days – one can’t blame them, really, for being skeptical. Still… they’re clearly fine with having Elton John on his piano doing things in the Abbey, so why not just revert to the one true Faith?
Here is a cleaner version for you to hear, with a great history attached for your reading pleasure, and for your music history education.
One of the last official acts of the reign of George I of Great Britain was to both naturalize George Frideric Handel as a British citizen and to commission Handel to write the coronation anthem for King George’s son and successor, George II.
As 1727 drew to a close, Britain had been enduring a generation’s worth of political and religious turmoil. The union of Scotland and England was still tenuous at best, with many Scots and English Catholics (Jacobites by name) still supporting the line of the deposed King James II.
When George I (of the House of Hanover) assumed the throne in 1714, he was hardly popular — he spoke German and not English — many Jacobites rose against him and joined James in rebellion. The rebellion was put down, but anti-Hanoverian sentiments still ran strong.
George I looked to the Old Testament for a parallel to his situation, and found one in 1 Kings. The Bible told how King David of Israel, while nearing death was facing his own succession crisis. After some deliberation, he chose his son Solomon as his heir, rather than Solomon’s ambitious half-brother Adonijah. In a grand ceremony, David’s most trusted advisors, Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet, annointed Solomon as king.
George feared another Jacobite uprising (which nonetheless came in 1745), and wanted to use the spectacle of his son’s coronation to establish George II as the legitimate ruler in the public’s eye.
Thus Handel was called upon to write an appropriately-grandiose set of anthems for the ceremony, and he didn’t disappoint. Four anthems were sung that day: The King Shall Rejoice, Let Thy Hand Be Strengthened, My Heart Is Inditing and Zadok the Priest, but it is the last that has endured.
Zadok the Priest was first sung during the annointing of George II during his coronation on 11 October 1727. It since has been sung at at every British coronation since 1727, the only anthem from Handel’s four to endure the last three centuries. It is traditionally performed during the sovereign’s anointing. The anthem is anything but subtle.
Regal, yes. Ambitious, yes. But subtle? I’m afraid not. It is played in four-four time, and at a slow tempo (about 60 beats per minute), picking up to ~80 bpm at the first “God save the king”. The anthem is written in seven-part SSAATBB harmony, sung in the key of D flat. The libretto was adapted from a Latin antiphon, “Unxerunt Salomonem Sadoc sacerdos”.
The running time of the piece can vary between 5:15 and 5:45, depending on the arrangement and conductor.
…*Correction in the Timeline* Charles II’s father King Charles I was executed at Whitehall on 30 January 1649, at the climax of the English Civil War. The English Parliament did not proclaim Charles II as king, and instead passed a statute that made any such proclamation unlawful. England entered the period known to history as the English Interregnum or the English Commonwealth and the country was a de facto republic, led by Oliver Cromwell.
The Parliament of Scotland, however, proclaimed Charles II king on 5 February 1649 in Edinburgh. He was crowned King of Scotland at Scone on 1 January 1651. Following his defeat by Cromwell at the Battle of Worcester on 3 September 1651, Charles fled to mainland Europe and spent the next nine years in exile in France, the United Provinces and the Spanish Netherlands.
A political crisis following the death of Cromwell in 1658 resulted in Charles being invited to return and assume the throne in what became known as the Restoration. Charles II arrived on English soil on 27 May 1660 and entered London on his 30th birthday, 29 May 1660.
After 1660, all legal documents were dated as if Charles had succeeded his father in 1649. Charles was crowned King of England and Ireland at Westminster Abbey on 23 April 1661 and reigned until 1685.
From the YouTube channel entry “Zadok the Priest”, the channel of BritainShallPrevail, accessed online July 5, 2020.
Pray Tell is a fun weblog which seems to be offering a lot about the upcoming Mass translation changes.
And I only say that after coming across an article about Michael Joncas, who’s writing a new musical setting for the Mass.
Here is a version of the Lord’s Prayer, by Joncas. It’s a 4 part, Russian Orthoxdox meeets John Rutter type of treatment. (Well… it is.)
And then there’s Sing the New Mass from the folks over at World Library Publications.
The Recovering Choir Director promises future leisure reading. I can relate to being a recovering choir director / organist / sacred musician and now, recovering priest: it’s brutal on the front lines! The gates of hell are no place to spend an eternity.
I’ve been Twitterring up a storm, but am now contemplating Friend Feed; the front lines often extend to social networking too, of course.
World news: The drama continues over Obama’s Birth Certificate. Sheesh…. what’s the big deal about a birth certificate? Most of us keep them handy, we take them when evacuating for storms, etc. Why expect any less from the president?
The Holy Trinity appears in this beautiful music book, by Father Athanasius Kircher, Musurgia Universalis, in the University of Glasgow’s collection.
The triangle at the top is the symbol of the Holy Trinity and sheds its rays over the whole of the top of the picture. Kircher held to the medieval idea that music is a reflection of the essential mathematics and proportions inherent in all Creation so the Trinity was not only a symbol but a real dogma.
Under the Trinity we find the nine angelic, four-voice choirs, singing a 36-part canon by Romano Micheli.
The canon is properly described as “canoni sopra le vocali di piu parole” (“on the vowels of a few words”) although in the present case the words ascribed are those of the angelic choirs in the Trishagion – “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus“, as described in Revelation.
The strip of text reads: “Angelic choir of 36 voices” (then the Sanctus music notated in staff notation) “distributed in 9 choirs”.
The middle section is dominated by a globe of the World, on which is seated Musica, holding the lyre of Apollo and the panpipes of Marsyas. The globe is encircled by the Zodiac, and Musica holds also a streamer bearing the legend “Of Athanasius Kircher of the Society of Jesus, Universal Musicmaking or the Art …” (being the beginning of the full title of the work).
Round the last part of the streamer is displayed the dedication “To His Serene Highness Leopold William, Archduke of Austria.” Other symbols in this section include rings of dancing mermaids on the shore, a shepherd trying out the echo and the winged horse of the Muses, Pegasus.
The lowest part of the picture shows blacksmiths in a cave: the sound of blacksmiths hammering had led Pythagoras to important conclusions about the nature of pitch and the blacksmiths are acknowledged in the picture by being pointed out by Pythagoras, who also holds an illustration of his theorem, also using triangles, and hence referring obliquely once again to the top of the picture.
The muse on the right may be Polymnia who appears in standard pose surrounded by musical instruments of various kinds.