A Small Hint of Joy
Steve Jullien
This Ash Wednesday marks the 20th anniversary of my first service as a chorister. My parents have strange memories of the occasion. I was in the choir stalls, all robed up, whilst they were looking after my younger sister, who was sleeping in the pew.
The anthem that evening was a setting of Ave Verum Corpus by William Byrd (1543-1623). It is a fitting communion motet as it is a Eucharistic chant, dating from the 13th century, and Byrd’s is just one of several settings. Whereas other popular versions, such as those by Elgar and Mozart, have an organ accompaniment, Byrd’s version is a cappella. Unlike Elgar and Mozart, Byrd also chooses a minor key. On the surface, this might appear to be a depressing choice, when many of us look to be uplifted by music in our worship. However, I find that the starkness of the piece always sends shivers down my spine. It also feels like a fitting setting for this Lent: not only are we entering a penitential season, but one where our lives have been stripped back drastically over the past year. We have been forced to slow down.
Byrd’s setting echoes this. Rather than rattling through the words, Byrd draws out the opening Ave phrase with long, sustained notes. Here, we are invited to stop and contemplate the presence of Christ in our lives. As Byrd was writing before musical dynamics as we know them were conceived, there are no official directions for volume and so it is open to our own interpretation as to how we approach the words and music. If I’m directing the piece, I like to fill those opening Ave notes with crescendos and diminuendos, giving the sense that Christ remains present throughout the various crescendos and diminuendos of our own lives.
The middle section of the piece is centred around Christ’s suffering on the Cross and our redemption, and this is often the section where directors choose to have the loudest dynamic. Whilst I like the drama of the middle section, with its moving parts, I find the final section the most striking. This section is repeated and focuses on our own relationship with Jesus. As an adult bass singer, I feel this connection most strongly through the long, deep notes on o dulcis, o pie: a way of expressing love for the person of Jesus Christ.
Although my first Lent began with a serious service and sleeping children, it ended with a joyful Easter service and children chasing an Easter egg down the aisle! Whilst Byrd’s piece is nearly all minor, he ends on a major chord. Amidst the seriousness of the piece, there is a small hint of joy. Indeed, we know that after the seriousness of the Crucifixion, there is the joy of the Resurrection. So, in this starkest of Lents, let us allow ourselves to stop and recognise our relationship with Christ, whatever that may look like, and to look forward to the hope of Easter.
Ave verum corpus,
Natum de Maria virgine;
Vere passum immolatum
In crucis pro homine.
Cuius latus perforatum
Unda fluxit sanguine.
Esto nobis praegustatum
In mortis examine.
O dulcis, o pie,
O Jesu Fili Mariae,
Miserere mei. Amen.
Hail, true body,
Born of the virgin Mary;
Who has truly suffered, sacrificed
On the Cross for humanity.
Whose side was pierced,
Pouring out water and blood.
Be a foretaste for us
During our ordeal of death.
O sweet, o holy,
O Jesus Son of Mary,
Have mercy on me. Amen.
(Translation adapted from emmanuelmusic.org)
