Day of wrath

Day of wrath, day the world
is reduced to ashes, as
David prophesied with the Sibyl.

What great terror there will be
when Heaven's Judge comes to
strictly measure all. 

***

What weeping on that day
when from the ashes arise
the guilty to be judged.

--------------------------------

Verdi's Requiem was first performed in 1874, and from the outset it has been criticized as too "operatic" for a piece of religious music.  But, of course, Giuseppi Verdi was primarily a composer of operas, and the late nineteenth century, in general, was noted for a somewhat bombastic style -- "Romanticism" -- bombastic, certainly, compared with compositions by earlier generations of composers.

I attended last night's performance of the Requiem by the Seattle Symphony -- orchestra, soloists (soprano, mezzo-soprano, tenor, and bass-baritone)  and the symphony's Chorale.  The work certainly is operatic, and nothing I'd want performed at my own funeral.  But also, stirring, scary, and -- in places -- beautiful.

The performance was nearly an hour and a half in length, and sets to music just seven sections of an actual mass, so I can't imagine its actually being used liturgically, although it no doubt has been.

Verdi, of course, composed only the music.  The text is from the traditional, pre-Vatican II liturgy for funeral and requiem masses.  

Compared with today's typical funeral services, the Requiem puts great emphasis on those elements calling forth the terror of the Last Days and Judgment, and the horrors of Hell.  The most notable and by far lengthiest section (of which I quote above just three stanzas of nineteen), and probably most familiar, was the "Sequence," beginning with the words Dies Irae ("Day of Wrath"), played magnificently by the full orchestra, with the Latin lyrics sung by four soloists, accompanied by the Chorale. The translated lyrics, displayed above the stage in super-titles, must have caused some consternation -- maybe salutary, probably not -- among some members of the audience.

As an archbishop, a member of the commission that made post-Vatican II revisions to the liturgy, explained:

They got rid of texts that smacked of a negative spirituality inherited from the Middle Ages. Thus they removed such familiar and even beloved texts as "Libera me, Domine," "Dies irae", and others that overemphasized judgment, fear, and despair. These they replaced with texts urging Christian hope and arguably giving more effective expression to faith in the resurrection.

A worthy change in the liturgy, in my opinion, but the old liturgy -- and especially the Dies Irae -- provided material for great theater, for which Verdi had ample talent.

The performance last night -- not just the more frightening passages, but also the more lyrical ones, such as the "Agnus Die" and the "Lux Aeterna," were magnificent and stirring.  The audience gave the performance a lengthy standing ovation at the conclusion.

And even in our modern times, a little medieval sensationalism may be good for us now and then!