Classical Crash Course, conclusion: Requiem for a Requiem

Dying is kind of a scary thing to think about. Whether or not you believe in something after death, it’s the fear of the unknown that causes discomfort when we come face-to-face with the reality. Although it is scary to think about sometimes, we have Hope that we might find eternal rest after our struggles here on earth.

Needless to say, the topic of death elicits a lot of emotions, from anxiety to terror to hope to peace. When someone we love dies, those emotions hit home and death becomes very real. That’s probably one of the reasons we memorialize the dead so much. We don’t want people to be forgotten simply because they’re gone. We build memorials, recite eulogies…and write songs. Sometimes they become popular – in fact, it’s not uncommon for people to memorialize people in this way. It’s also not such a new thing.

In Roman Catholic liturgy, the souls of the dead are remembered via a requiem mass. Requiems are highly structured, including Scripture readings, chants, and hymns, with the purpose of sending the deceased soul on its Heavenly journey. There are lots of parts to a requiem mass that might get kind of boring if I list them all out, so here are the important bits (at least, for our purposes):

Kyrie eleison (KEE-ree-eh eh-LAY-zohn) translates from Latin to “Lord, have mercy.” This is a prayer of supplication for the dead person’s soul.

Sequence. The sequence (or sequentia if you’re fancy and/or Latin) is like a liturgy inside of a liturgy. Some important parts of a Requiem sequentia are the Dies irae (DEE-ess EE-reh), which translates to “day of wrath,” evoking the coming Judgment day; and the Lacrimosa, which means “weeping.” This portion also alludes to the Day of Wrath, and how “full of tears will be that day.” (I’m pointing these two guys out because I’m gonna talk about them later.)

Sanctus. This part of the requiem praises God for his holiness (Sanctus translates to holy.)

Agnus Dei (AHN-yoos DEH-ee) is a supplication to the “Lamb of God,” who “takes away the sins of the world.”

In Paradisum sings of the glories of Heaven and that the beloved’s soul will be carried thence to its rest.

In a nutshell, that’s a Requiem. I’d encourage you to look further into the liturgy. It’s fascinating.

In this Classical Crash Course, I’ll actually be tackling four different composers who have each tackled the Requiem during a different musical period. The requiem is very popular among composers because composers like that kind of structure. The libretto for their vocalists is literally written out for them already. So A LOT of composers have written Requiems. I tried to look up a number, but no one knows for sure how many have been written.

At least makes for some really good music.

From Giuseppe Verdi’s Messa da Requiem: Dies Irae, aka, “Prepare to get shook cuz y’all are going to Hell” 

Please tell me you’ve heard this piece before. It’s insanely popular. And it’s crazy. And it’s scary. You probably get why it’s called “day of wrath” now, don’t you? That hammering bass drum goes right to your bones. Verdi wrote his Requiem in 1874 after the death of a man he revered. Verdi wrote a lot of operas,  so don’t be surprised if this sounds too dramatic to be “church music.” Verdi was definitely a drama queen. Even though the Catholic church didn’t like women singing in the liturgy, Verdi swished his fur cape on his grand staircase and said “eff you. I’m gonna write this for sopranos anyway.” And good thing he did, because it’s fantastic. 

From Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor: Lacrimosa aka “Like if U Cry Everytime” 

If the first bit made you sad…prepare to get sadder, because like I said, lacrimosa literally means crying. Here’s the translation of the full Latin text:

Full of tears will be that day
When from the ashes shall arise
The guilty man to be judged;
Therefore spare him, O God,
Merciful Lord Jesus,
Grant them eternal rest. Amen.

It’s meant to scare you. It’s a call to action for all mortals to beg for mercy. Mozart, a staunch Roman Catholic himself, didn’t finish his masterpiece by the time of his death in 1791. He died of an undiagnosed illness at the age of 35 – proof that we all should be ready for that dies irae. 

But don’t worry. The Requiem isn’t all sad and gloomy. (Verdi’s might be an exception. If you listen to his Messa all the way through, you will still feel depressed at the end.) In fact, the point of the Requiem is to point us toward the hope that we have in Jesus Christ. Which brings me to…

John Rutter’s Requiem: Agnus Dei aka “You’re a flower but not in a good way” 

I will admit, the beginning of this piece is spooky. It’s still meant to evoke a bit of fear and trembling in the midst of a mighty God – and to remind you “man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live” (special thanks to our boy Job for these uplifting words.) But after this chilling reminder, the hope that is the Lamb of God enters the scene. Then, Rutter sort of changes the rules and adds to the Requiem (his Requiem in general is pretty unconventional) by interjecting a musical quote associated with Easter, before the choir then quotes John 11:25: “I am the resurrection and the life, says the Lord.” (Bonus: Listen to Lux Aeterna if you want to go to musical heaven for six minutes. Then come back and finish reading.)

Interestingly enough, Rutter doesn’t consider himself a religious man. The incredible dynamism and heavy text of his piece would make me convert if I were a non-believer, not gonna lie. There’s so much to love about this Requiem, specifically the hope that is infused into the added text. Listen to the whole thing if you get the chance.

From Gabriel Faure’s Requiem in D Minor: In Paradisum aka “An apology to Mrs. Faure because I slept with my pianist” 

Faure’s Requiem is a bit different. It’s very gentle. Early critics called his work a “lullaby of death,” but according to him, that was kind of the point:

“Everything I managed to entertain by way of religious illusion I put into my Requiem, which moreover is dominated from beginning to end by a very human feeling of faith in eternal rest.” 

Faure’s Requiem is not written to eulogize a specific person. I’m not sure if you can write a Requiem for funsies, but maybe he did. The finale of his Requiem, In Paradisum, sums up the work pretty well. It has almost a shimmering quality to it, with the string section providing a bed for straight-tone sopranos singing souls into Heaven. An interesting thing I learned about Faure as I researched this was that he had a way with the ladies. While he had a fairly good marriage, the boy also got around a bit. Many of his romantic relationships lasted decades and were often extramarital. He struck up many a liaison with many a pretty ingenue while married to his wife, who really didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

It’s interesting to me that most of this beautiful, sacred music came from people who are broken. If I’ve learned anything about composers in this series, it’s that many composers could not keep it in their PANTS. Yet they still wrote beautiful music. Beautiful religious music. Sacred music.

And I think that’s because music, like other art forms, rises beyond whoever creates it. Music has the power to transcend the darkness and brokenness of the human condition and point us toward something Greater. I don’t want to turn this into a sermon, but I think music can be one of many indicators that we were created and designed. Maybe not all the composers I’ve talked about knew this, but it’s pretty evident in the amazing things they created.

So here’s my challenge to you: let your gifts, your strengths, your talents rise above you. I wrote about ten old dead guys so you could see that you have as much potential as they did. You can create a masterpiece of your own and literally change the way people do things. You can’t see it now, but people hundreds of years from now might.

And who knows? Maybe someone will write a song about you.

Or even better, a blog series.

a. w.