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Beautiful! Thank you :) I know you said you sang this. The ending was always a killer for us.
I love this. It echoes the desire we have for heaven and Christ’s return.
Thanks!
It was good to take some time on Easter weekend to contemplate the lessons in this piece – to put myself in the presence of music that does not depict the longing for God expressed in Psalm 42 as tortured and forlorn, but as no less longing for all that.
I’m afraid I have no ear for this type of music, however I do find it pleasant.
You’re an archaeologist of musical appreciation midge. Perfect music for Easter it seems to me.
Absolutely lovely, Midge. Thank you!
Beautiful.
Thanks for introducing me to Gesualdo, and your original post on him 3 years ago.
As one who has struggled all his life to find a transporting faith, I can say that the closest I come is moments of hearing choral sacred music like this. I am particularly moved by music of this period. Thank you for your touching exposition.
I’ve sung [1] in Latin and [3] in Hebrew.
Choral music was my “gateway drug” into faith as a youngster, so I understand.
Finally getting a chance to sit down, listen, and appreciate this. I’ve always been sad that Baptists don’t do Latin during singing. This is absolutely beautiful! Before I got a chance to hear it, I was thinking of another hymn that starts out the same (as far as lyrics) in English, but as lovely as I find that one, it pales in comparison to this. There’s just something about the Latin that gives me goosebumps.
As my Episcopalian aunt-in-law used to say, “Too Popish!”
Beautiful! I have some happy memories of this piece.
Just so. Thanks for the post, your analysis was great to read!
This conversation is part of a Group Writing series with the theme “Water”, planned for the whole month of April. If you follow this link, there’s more information about Group Writing. The schedule is updated to include links to the other conversations for the month as they are posted. There are a couple of dates still available if you wanted to sign up.
Beautiful.
Excellent post Midge. I think your understanding of Palastina’s intention is correct though. The psalm is nearly all a lamentation. I was about to comment that Palistrina completely misses the mark in his setting, but I wiped all that out. I think he is justified in this interpretation from lines seven and eight of the psalm: “(7) My soul is downcast within me; therefore I remember you from the land of the Jordan and Hermon, from Mount Mizar, (8) Deep calls to deep in the roar of your torrents, and all your waves and breakers sweep over me.” [NAB translation]. In the psalmist’s remembrance of the Lord (“deep calls to deep” – love that phrase) he finds that God has not abandoned him. I don’t think he’s just anticipating the Lord’s return but I think he actually remembers Him there in the present moment. The rhythmic flow of the piece recreates that joy sweeping over him.
“Deep calls to deep” is a haunting phrase. There’s something paradoxical about describing the violent motion of water as a reminder that God does not abandon us.
The roar of torrents is a hollow, lonely sound, even as it’s awe-inspiring. All God’s waves sweeping over us could easily drown or break us. Water doesn’t just give life in the desert. It’s also the symbol of primordial chaos – of what’s absurd and alienating, without regard for human life. But God’s water is the living water.
Listening to the roar of waterfalls or of the surf, it’s possible to feel alienated from God and very near Him at the same time. Psalm 42 reflects that poignantly – the thirst, the awesome, even destructive, power of what quenches that thirst, and a lamentation of alienation that nonetheless knows alienation isn’t the final word – and just knowing is a kind of homecoming:
Yes.
Yes, especially when you consider how important the rains were to the Israelites and to desert people in general. The psalms often refer to it, there is the primordal creation as you note, the passage through the Red Sea, and the flooding with Noah. Water is both life and death.
Also keep in mind, and this is something we Christians see as a foreshadowing, one of Christ’s last words on the cross were “I thirst.”