Peace

Ralph Vaughan Williams, composer; Dona Nobis Pacem; Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus; Robert Shaw, conducting

The economy, if you’ll recall, went south in late October or early November of 2008. Regardless, the Annapolis Chorale continued with preparations for a mid-November performance of two magnificent, but obscure, chorale works. When the performance dates arrived, the big chorus and its collaborative orchestra suited up and offered a stirring, polished and inspired presentation of moving music with both spirited and docile text. The audience took the night off.

The house didn’t stand empty. Let’s just say that something other than the numbers in the audience motivated a marvelous performance from the ensemble. Some who analyze numbers under these circumstances could contend that, because the two masterworks on this concert don’t get programmed very often, potential audience members prefer to hear musical pieces that they already know. Maybe. A few people think that way. I have found, however, in the typical concert-going Annapolitan, an open-mindedness and a guarded, yet welcoming, whim for something different.

I heard that even patrons who had purchased tickets for the whole season, many months before, forsook those tickets and remained safe and warm in their homes, and not out in that nasty, untrustworthy, cold, damp economy. Hmmmmm. Is it possible to be of a mindset that says, “I know we already have the tickets, but let’s skip the concert. We still have to account for the gas in the car to get to the performance, somebody might invite us out for coffee afterward and, in a moment of weakness, we might accept. Let’s stay home and eat that can of beans in the cupboard.”

Hey, everybody! STOP! Don’t move a muscle! The economy’s bad. If you even touch something it might break. We’re all going to have to stop living for a while.

I’m cynical here because the industry in which I operate reacts, perhaps in a more volatile manner than in any other, to the various comfort levels of the consumer. The first things to go during hard times are those things that we need the most; namely music and art. I need you, reader. I am grateful for your support for all things musical and artistic. And I hope that you discover that, at least in some small way, perhaps, you need me, too.

On the night before his crucifixion, the Lord Jesus celebrated a Passover meal with his disciples. When the meal had ended and after Judas had left to betray Jesus, the Lord concluded and summed up his ministry by speaking plainly to the disciples, according to St. John, about his relationship with the Father, about what would happen during the next few hours, and about what he expected from them. At what must have been a powerful and poignant moment, he looked at them and said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives to I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.”

Ralph Vaughan Williams’ “Dona Nobis Pacem” (“Grant Us Peace”) gets its title from the final words of the Agnus Dei.

Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.

Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.

Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, grant us peace.

Mr. Vaughan Williams wrote this cantata in 1936, between the two World Wars. In addition to the Latin text in the Agnus Dei, he calls on the words from three anti-war poems by Walt Whitman, a famous speech from 19^th century member of Parliament John Bright,

The Angel of Death has been abroad throughout the land. You may almost hear the beating of his wings.

And he also uses the English text to the Gloria, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men…”

When Jesus spoke of peace, he talked about reconciliation with God, secured through the death and resurrection of Christ. Since the fall in the Garden of Eden, the nature of mankind has served only to infringe the political and military peace of man that we so desire and expect of ourselves. Despite the futility of the effort, however, we continue to seek that peace. Ralph Vaughan Williams’ father was a reverend. He would have taught the young Ralph that humankind as a whole cannot change its nature. As long as there are lands to conquer, man will sacrifice peace in order to conquer.

With these words:

I see a sad procession,

And I heard the sound of coming full-key’d bugles,

All the channels of the city streets they’re flooding,

As with voices and with tears.

I hear the great drums pounding

And the small drums steady whirring,

And every blow of the great convulsive drums,

Strikes me through and through.

Mr. Vaughan Williams calls for a peace that cannot be sustained, just as Jesus says to Peter in the Garden of Gethsemane, “Put your sword into its sheath, for all who take the sword shall perish by the sword.”

Credits: To Ralph Vaughan Williams, for optimism and the beauty that it finds.