This morning, the choir is proud to lead worship with a complete rendition of one of the last century’s great sacred masterworks – Leonard Bernstein’s Chichester Psalms. Rev. Walter Hussey asked Bernstein to write a piece for Chichester Cathedral in 1965 (Hussey had a knack for commissioning masterpieces – he also hired Benjamin Britten to write Rejoice in the Lamb, which the choir sang almost exactly a year ago at the organ dedication service). Bernstein was on compositional sabbatical from the New York Philharmonic in 1965, during which he also wrote his Third Symphony, known as the Kaddish. But whereas the Kaddish is an angry, despairing howl at God, the Chichester is quite the reverse: it’s a serene, joyous affirmation of faith and a plea for peace both internal and external. Defiantly tonal and full of big, luscious melodies, it self-consciously casts off the dissonant and aurally challenging strains of modern music swirling through the 1960s, reveling in its relative simplicity.

The work is in three movements, each setting selections from two Psalms, and sung in Hebrew (this may be because of Bernstein’s desire to connect with his Jewish roots, or simply because it’s a terrifically beautiful – though challenging - language to sing!). Originally scored for chorus and orchestra, this morning’s version is a chamber arrangement, made with Bernstein’s approval, for chorus, harp, organ and percussion (the use of bongo drums in Chichester Cathedral drew predictable ire from British critics at its premiere, but what would a Bernstein piece be without loads of percussion?).

The opening of the first movement will certainly wake you up if you aren’t already – to the opening of the 108th Psalm (“Awake, psaltery and harp!”), Bernstein introduces the main theme of the entire work, a festive, processional-like tune that you’ll want to keep in your ear for later. Soon, though, we move to the 100th Psalm (“Make a joyful noise unto the Lord”) and the tempo quickens into a 7/4 dance pattern that is infectious, jazzy, and terrific fun. (The number seven has, of course, much numerological significance in Judeo-Christian scripture – note, too, that the tenors sing in parallel sevenths with the basses during the introduction!) The music builds to another restatement of the main theme, decorated by dizzying coloratura lines in the sopranos and tenors. After an instrumental dance episode, we hear the main theme again in canon, with the sopranos and tenors starting one bar before the altos and basses, which bubbles over and ends the first movement with a huge, joyous bang.

The second movement introduces a boy treble as soloist, singing the famous Psalm 23 (“The Lord is My Shepherd”). Bernstein specified that this solo should be sung by a boy and never by a woman – it’s possible he had in mind the young David singing, accompanying himself on his lyre (or, in this case, the harp). It’s here that Bernstein’s gift for terrific tune-writing comes to the fore – try not to be moved by the gorgeous tune he gives to the boy treble, with the women of the chorus humming gently underneath.

The sacred peace of this episode is, however, suddenly and brusquely interrupted by the men of the chorus and the percussion, singing Psalm 2, which you may know from Messiah as “Why do the nations so furiously rage together?” Full of violence and war, the Psalm is set to a combination of whispering, angular lines and angry, shouting outbursts, before the women join in with the music that opened the second movement, building to almost unbearable contrapuntal complexity and anguish. It soon dissolves, and the opening peaceful music returns, but it is just as quickly cut off by an instrumental conclusion that recalls the men’s angry music and brings the movement to a crashing, angry close.

The third movement opens with a long prelude for organ and harp, full of anguish and riffing freely on the main theme from the first movement. It’s as though the trauma of the men’s music has corrupted the once optimistic main theme. But soon, the music settles down, and a rocking 5/4 rhythm is heard in the organ and harp, almost like a lullaby. This is accompaniment to one of Bernstein’s – or the twentieth century’s – great “big tunes;” a gorgeous, warm-hearted and lyrical melody that is almost instantly remembered, sung to the warm poetry of the 131st Psalm (today’s Lectionary Psalm). This tune was written originally for the balcony scene between Maria and Tony in West Side Story, but jettisoned in favor of “Tonight” – happily, the composer kept it in his desk drawer and found use for it! After a delicious instrumental solo, the choir reprises the tune on a wordless “ah!” that, in its combination of extroverted warmth, heart-on-the-sleeve emotion and masterful craftsmanship, is pure Bernstein.

But he’s not done yet. The final passage sets the 133rd Psalm – a plea for unity, peace and brotherhood– to a restatement of the work’s main theme. Whereas its appearance in the opening of the work was loud and brash, here it’s cast in quiet, pious form, very much like a silent, private prayer for peace. The initial (naïve?) optimism of the opening has been tempered somewhat by the harsh realities of the second movement, but still, Bernstein tells us, we may obtain peace through prayer, reflection and – most of all – love.

We are thrilled to welcome the noted mezzo-soprano Dr. Isabelle Ganz to our worship this morning. Dr. Ganz is well known to Houston audiences for her wonderful singing; we have also engaged her skills as Hebrew coach while preparing this work. She has also agreed to read the Psalm for the Day from the Lectionary in the Hebrew, as well as cantor the 23rd Psalm for the Introit this morning. We welcome her to our community at worship and appreciate her contributions.

Additionally, Alicia Chew is on hand to sing the “Simple Song” from Bernstein’s MASS, his other sacred masterpiece, written some ten years after the Chichester. Although MASS is a significantly darker and angrier work, this famous aria which opens the ninety-minute work is similar to much of the Chichester in its simplicity and gorgeous tunefulness.

Finally, the angelic voice you hear from the choir loft during the second movement belongs to Andrew White. Andrew began his formal musical training at age five, studying piano. He studies voice with Timothy Jones, sings with the Houston Children’s Chorus under the direction of Steve Roddy, and studies piano with Robert Moeling through the Preparatory Division of Rice University's Shepherd School of Music. In 2010, Andrew made his debut as Amahl in Gian Carlo Menotti's Amahl and the Night Visitors in a production with the River Oaks Chamber Orchestra and the Church of St. John the Divine. Welcome Andrew and thanks for enhancing our worship today!