Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty: Which was and is and is to come.
—Antiphon for Trinitytide
Peter Bender describes the role of the Sanctus (please see the Latin and English text below) as the fourth of the five pillars (along with the Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, and Agnus Dei) of the Divine Service:
[The Sanctus] was sung by the angels when Isaiah the prophet was called by the Lord to preach repentance and the forgiveness of sins to sinners (Isaiah 6). In Isaiah’s vision we are taught that heaven, which had been closed to us because of sin, is now open for the sinner through the good news of Christ’s forgiveness. This forgiveness is given to us in the Word of Christ which comes to us in His gifts of preaching, Baptism, Absolution, and the Lord’s Supper. (Lutheran Catechesis, p. 107)
Isaiah’s encounter with the holy set the precedent for the Lord’s Supper as “the holy things for the holy ones,” i.e., the holy body and blood of Christ are only for those who have been made holy through Baptism and have heard the cleansing word of Absolution. The Lord’s words to Isaiah in his temple vision also apply to us in the means of grace: “Your sin is taken away and your guilt is atoned for.”
Having proclaimed the holiness of the Lord, the Sanctus transitions seamlessly into the Benedictus from Psalm 118, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!” This Psalm was sung by pilgrims as they journeyed to Jerusalem for the great feasts of the Old Testament. Faithful pilgrims were blessed to journey to Jerusalem in the Name of the Lord, to participate in the salvific events of the three great feasts of old (Passover, Pentecost, and Tabernacles), and to cry, “Hosanna [save us now] in the highest.”
The Sanctus, then, places two Old Testament texts and their New Testament fulfillment in the Lord’s Supper before the composers, with manifold opportunities to paint the sacred text in vivid musical colors. Frank Martin (1890–1974) and Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872–1958) do not disappoint.
Martin takes what I like to call the “Isaiah view” of the Sanctus. Isaiah stood in abject fear before the Lord, knowing that when God’s holiness and man’s sinfulness collide, mere mortals get burned. The music begins in hushed and quiet tones, with gently unfolding melodies and softly clashing dissonances. The music changes abruptly at 2:15 (“full are the heavens and the earth of your glory”), depicting what I call the “heavenly view” of the Sanctus: lively rhythms and joyful counterpoint between the two choirs depict God’s heavenly glory as it fills all creation. As for the “Blessed is he” section (starting at 3:10), Dale Warland probably said it best: “The hushed second choir chants the word [“Benedictus”] in four-square rhythm, while the harmonies of the first choir slide loosely above—like water over ice” (ACC CD 120 liner notes). Both choirs converge with the suppliant cry, “Hosanna,” that is to say, “Save us now,” the ceaseless petitions of mere mortals who seek refuge in the Holy One of Israel.
After you have listened to both settings of the Sanctus, I invite you to consider the primary differences between them and to join the conversation in the chat window below.
The Sanctus, then, places two Old Testament texts and their New Testament fulfillment in the Lord’s Supper before the composers, with manifold opportunities to paint the sacred text in vivid musical colors. Frank Martin (1890–1974) and Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872–1958) do not disappoint.
Martin takes what I like to call the “Isaiah view” of the Sanctus. Isaiah stood in abject fear before the Lord, knowing that when God’s holiness and man’s sinfulness collide, mere mortals get burned. The music begins in hushed and quiet tones, with gently unfolding melodies and softly clashing dissonances. The music changes abruptly at 2:15 (“full are the heavens and the earth of your glory”), depicting what I call the “heavenly view” of the Sanctus: lively rhythms and joyful counterpoint between the two choirs depict God’s heavenly glory as it fills all creation. As for the “Blessed is he” section (starting at 3:10), Dale Warland probably said it best: “The hushed second choir chants the word [“Benedictus”] in four-square rhythm, while the harmonies of the first choir slide loosely above—like water over ice” (ACC CD 120 liner notes). Both choirs converge with the suppliant cry, “Hosanna,” that is to say, “Save us now,” the ceaseless petitions of mere mortals who seek refuge in the Holy One of Israel.
After you have listened to both settings of the Sanctus, I invite you to consider the primary differences between them and to join the conversation in the chat window below.
| Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dominus Deus Sabaoth. Pleni sunt cæli et terra gloria tua. Hosanna in excelsis. Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini. Hosanna in excelsis. | Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth. Full are the heavens and earth of your glory. Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest. |
The setting of the Sanctus by Ralph Vaughan Williams (RVW) begins in the upper range of women’s voices, with lengthy melismas (two or more notes sung on one syllable of text) on the first syllable of the word “Sanctus,” as befits the song of angels gradually descending from heaven to earth. The men eventually join in, expanding the choir from angelic voices to all the faithful. An animated, imitative section (starting at 1:20) paints the good news that heaven and earth are full of God’s glory. The musical figures are buoyant, free, and joyful. At 1:54, the “Hosanna” begins, utilizing a triple meter (“Ho-SAN-na, ho-SAN-na”), with a musical energy and sense of urgency that easily carries this brief movement to completion.
So how is Martin’s setting different from that of RVW? The difference in length is striking, with Martin “clocking in” at about 4:30 and RVW closer to 2:45. Indeed, Martin’s careful treatment of the word “Sanctus” is perhaps the most time-consuming and challenging feature of either movement. As for differences in painting the text, however, I am most appreciative of the contrast between Martin’s opening the Sanctus “from below,” vis-à-vis RVW beginning it “from above.” Martin’s begins almost cryptically, as if the Sanctus grows “out of the depths” (cf. Psalm 130), but then gradually ascends to heaven. RVW also begins with hushed reverence, but from the upper register of angelic women’s voices, as if the choir of angels and archangels is descending to earth.
Taken together, both composers—though unaware of the other’s parallel composition until decades after writing them in the 1920s—paint a profound picture of the union of heaven and earth in the Sanctus. As Jesus took our humanity into His Divinity (Athanasian Creed), so the angels and archangels gladly receive the song of Christian pilgrims every time we lift our voices to declare the holiness of the Lord. Again from Peter Bender:
Taken together, both composers—though unaware of the other’s parallel composition until decades after writing them in the 1920s—paint a profound picture of the union of heaven and earth in the Sanctus. As Jesus took our humanity into His Divinity (Athanasian Creed), so the angels and archangels gladly receive the song of Christian pilgrims every time we lift our voices to declare the holiness of the Lord. Again from Peter Bender:
The Sanctus is the song of praise sung to our gracious God, because the Son of the Father has chosen to condescend to us who could not save ourselves, and in His flesh and blood to offer the sacrifice once and for all to take away sin. This is why angels sing and this is why we sing. (Lutheran Catechesis, p. 108).
In short, the Sanctus is heaven on earth. From these two advanced settings for trained choirs to the elderly shut-in who struggles to speak the Sanctus during a simple Communion service, heaven drops down to earth and earth is lifted up to heaven because the holy Lord—which was, and is, and is to come—brings His holy gifts to you, His holy people. Hosanna in the highest!
Extra Choral Credit
Hearing RVW’s Entire Mass in G minor
Featuring the Choir of Christ Church, Oxford
Readers who have been to England have hopefully had a chance to hear one of the famous British choirs of men and boys. Here, in mighty Medieval cathedrals, boy sopranos join with professional male singers or “lay clerks”—altos (known as countertenors), tenors, and basses—to form four-part choirs. (This configuration is relatively rare in the United States, although some of our large cities are blessed with choirs of men and boys.) Utilizing the unique features of English cathedrals, these choirs often divide into two choirs, one on the deacon’s side (liturgical north) and one on the cantor’s side (liturgical south) within the transept to facilitate antiphonal choral music.
This is the sound that RVW had in mind when he wrote his Mass in G minor. In fact, it might have been the only choral sound that RVW knew for sacred music at the time (female sopranos have become more common in the century past), so it seems fitting to highlight the following performance of his setting, as sung here by the Choir of Christ Church, Oxford, under the direction of Stephen Darlington. Their performance reminds me of the following description of the first performance of the Mass in G minor: “While [RVW’s Mass] offers no occasion for violent brilliance, the best choirs will find it a field for endless refinements, and the more carefully they have toiled the more will the listeners think the music natural, helpful, and self-forgettingly devout” (The Musical Times 64:959, p. 37).
This is the sound that RVW had in mind when he wrote his Mass in G minor. In fact, it might have been the only choral sound that RVW knew for sacred music at the time (female sopranos have become more common in the century past), so it seems fitting to highlight the following performance of his setting, as sung here by the Choir of Christ Church, Oxford, under the direction of Stephen Darlington. Their performance reminds me of the following description of the first performance of the Mass in G minor: “While [RVW’s Mass] offers no occasion for violent brilliance, the best choirs will find it a field for endless refinements, and the more carefully they have toiled the more will the listeners think the music natural, helpful, and self-forgettingly devout” (The Musical Times 64:959, p. 37).
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