All will be well!
The sermon in the Sunday morning service of the Unitarian-Universalist church was paused for an interlude. And Franz Schubert touched me. Transcended me to a mountain top. And filled my very being with wonderment.
For 13 minutes, the commingling of melody on melody of human voice with clarinet, the underlying fabric of piano seaming them together, the exuberance of the epiphany of mountain-top experience, the singing of the protagonist of the poem, the cry, the realization that all will be well.
Der Hirt auf Dern Felsen (The Shepherd on the Rock) was written in Schubert’s (1797 – 1828) last year of life. It was written as a request from a renowned opera singer who asked him for a song that would make use of the vocal versatility that enabled her to sing long, flowing lines as well as very fast passages within a wide vocal range.
The text is bucolic. Based on a poem by Wilhelm Mueller, and especially loved by Schubert. For Schubert loved to travel among high hills and sylvan meadows.
And the question exists -- did Schubert hear in this poem what I hear?
The text and music are divided into three sections.
The English paraphrase . . .
When I stand at the mountain-top, and look down into the valley, and sing, a friendly voice returns to me in echo and cheers me. My beloved lives far away. I hope he hears my voice.
The clarinet introduces the setting. Sets the ambiance. Gives one the feeling of swirling from dizzying heights. The soprano, almost imperceptibly, augments the scene. Then the call. The echo. The cry. I wonder who my beloved is? How far away? Does he? Will he? Can he hear my voice?
The dynamic of the music intensifies.
Without the beloved, one suffers and is lonely. Those who hear the song are drawn to heartfelt sorrow.
The music is powerful. But in my heart I wonder if anyone in the valley is even there to hear the song?
But springtime is coming, the wonderful month of May is near. I’ll make myself ready and sing again. And the answer will come with resounding clarity! All will be well!
The music is not only powerful. It is fast. It is articulate. The pitch and range are all over the place. It swirls. The clarinet and voice tug and tag, sometimes in unison, sometimes in dissonant harmony. The piano, holding them together in the vista of a springtime mountain-top. And it ends with a resounding clarity. And one would really think that all will be well.
There is speculation that Franz Schubert did indeed have his beloved who lived far away. One wonders if Franz Schubert’s voice was heard by him in that special way.
Franz Schubert was a young man when he died. And one wonders of the things of his life had he been given more years.
But to a very alone old gay grandfather, sitting in the midst of a Unitarian-Universalist Sunday morning worship service, Franz Schubert came to me.
The sermon progressed on. The service moved on.
But the swirling mists of mountain-top questions continued in my mind. Questions, seemingly, with no answers.
For with Schubert, whose beloved lived far away and with whom he expressed his hope that his beloved would hear his voice, was Schubert really talking of me?
But so it is with faith.
With faith, at some point, the answer will come, will come with resounding clarity! An echo back from the valley. His voice in response. All will be well!
The Refectory Manager
For 13 minutes, the commingling of melody on melody of human voice with clarinet, the underlying fabric of piano seaming them together, the exuberance of the epiphany of mountain-top experience, the singing of the protagonist of the poem, the cry, the realization that all will be well.
Der Hirt auf Dern Felsen (The Shepherd on the Rock) was written in Schubert’s (1797 – 1828) last year of life. It was written as a request from a renowned opera singer who asked him for a song that would make use of the vocal versatility that enabled her to sing long, flowing lines as well as very fast passages within a wide vocal range.
The text is bucolic. Based on a poem by Wilhelm Mueller, and especially loved by Schubert. For Schubert loved to travel among high hills and sylvan meadows.
And the question exists -- did Schubert hear in this poem what I hear?
The text and music are divided into three sections.
The English paraphrase . . .
When I stand at the mountain-top, and look down into the valley, and sing, a friendly voice returns to me in echo and cheers me. My beloved lives far away. I hope he hears my voice.
The clarinet introduces the setting. Sets the ambiance. Gives one the feeling of swirling from dizzying heights. The soprano, almost imperceptibly, augments the scene. Then the call. The echo. The cry. I wonder who my beloved is? How far away? Does he? Will he? Can he hear my voice?
The dynamic of the music intensifies.
Without the beloved, one suffers and is lonely. Those who hear the song are drawn to heartfelt sorrow.
The music is powerful. But in my heart I wonder if anyone in the valley is even there to hear the song?
But springtime is coming, the wonderful month of May is near. I’ll make myself ready and sing again. And the answer will come with resounding clarity! All will be well!
The music is not only powerful. It is fast. It is articulate. The pitch and range are all over the place. It swirls. The clarinet and voice tug and tag, sometimes in unison, sometimes in dissonant harmony. The piano, holding them together in the vista of a springtime mountain-top. And it ends with a resounding clarity. And one would really think that all will be well.
There is speculation that Franz Schubert did indeed have his beloved who lived far away. One wonders if Franz Schubert’s voice was heard by him in that special way.
Franz Schubert was a young man when he died. And one wonders of the things of his life had he been given more years.
But to a very alone old gay grandfather, sitting in the midst of a Unitarian-Universalist Sunday morning worship service, Franz Schubert came to me.
The sermon progressed on. The service moved on.
But the swirling mists of mountain-top questions continued in my mind. Questions, seemingly, with no answers.
For with Schubert, whose beloved lived far away and with whom he expressed his hope that his beloved would hear his voice, was Schubert really talking of me?
But so it is with faith.
With faith, at some point, the answer will come, will come with resounding clarity! An echo back from the valley. His voice in response. All will be well!
The Refectory Manager
posted by The Refectory Manager | 4:34 PM
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