Rescuing the Requiem: The Sanctus

​​Gabriel Fauré, Requiem, Op. 48

​​Maurice Duruflé, Requiem, Op. 9

+ In all time of our tribulation . . . in the hour of death; and in the day of judgment:
​Help us, good Lord.  +

— From The Litany

Faithful readers of “Lifted Voice” may recall that I recently began an occasional series entitled “Rescuing the Requiem,” which explores musical settings of selected texts from the historic Mass for the Dead (the Requiem) that are fitting in a Lutheran context, especially the Kyrie and the Sanctus. In the present issue, I wish to share with the good reader two settings of the Sanctus that are accessible to the capable parish choir and organist, both from prominent French composers, Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924) and Maurice Duruflé (1902-1986).

Michael Steinberg was no doubt correct in saying, “Fauré’s Requiem is like no other” (Choral Masterworks: A Listener’s Guide, p. 132). He omits the “Day of Wrath” movement, which often functioned as the dramatic centerpiece of prior settings of the Requiem text. And he chose to include the “In Paradise” movement, which was rarely set to choral music because it was part of the graveside service, not the funeral proper. Perhaps it is no surprise that he particularly disliked the “Day of Wrath” from the Requiem of Giuseppi Verdi (1813-1901):
​

Now listen to the Sanctus of Fauré and think about the angelic hymn of Revelation 4 and 5 as the saints gather around the throne of the Lamb. Perhaps you will agree with the composer, who thought the solo violin sounded particularly angelic?

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus
Dominus Deus Sabaoth.
Pleni sunt coeli et terra gloria tua.
​Hosanna in excelsis.
​

Holy, holy, holy
Lord God of Sabaoth.
Heaven and earth are full of Your glory.
Hosanna in the highest.
​

Since the composer was an impressionist, it is important not to create any, well, any mistaken impressions of his intentions! It is sometimes difficult to know where intended symbolism stops and unintended effects begin. With this caveat in mind, a few observations of the overall text painting are certainly in order. The soaring violin (beginning at 0:12 in this video) probably acquaints with the Holy Spirit, who is traditionally invoked as the One who makes the Body and Blood of Christ present in the Lord’s Supper. Similarly, the 16th notes seem to depict the angels flying overhead in Isaiah’s Temple vision. And did you notice how the men’s and women’s voices generally alternate singing the melody, but with some overlap? One might interpret this as the Cherubim and Seraphim calling back and forth in Isaiah 6. The music gradually swells to depict “heaven and earth” (i.e., all creation) until the octave brass (starting at 1:56) announce the dynamic climax of the Sanctus, as if to shake the pillars of the earth with the glory of God. After omitting the Benedictus, the violin solo gently brings the Sanctus to a peaceful conclusion. One is reminded here of the composer’s words, “That’s how I see death: as a joyful deliverance, an aspiration towards a happiness beyond the grave, rather than a painful experience” (Jessica Duchen, Gabriel Fauré, p. 81; quoted in Robert Summer, Choral Masterworks from Bach to Britten, p. 124).

Often mentioned in the same breath with the Requiem of Gabriel Fauré is the Requiem of Maurice Duruflé. Both texts omit the “Day of Wrath” movement. Both texts end with the “In Paradise” movement, drawn from the committal service. And both settings are accessible for a small ensemble (choir, organ, and soloists), a chamber ensemble (add a few instruments), and for full orchestra and chorus.

In contrast to Fauré, however, who wrote his own melodies, Maurice Duruflé used pre-existent plain chant melodies as the foundation of each movement, with the exception of the Pie Jesu Domine (“O Merciful Lord Jesus”). Listen to the plain chant Sanctus from one setting of the Mass for the Dead which inspired his setting for choir and instruments:
​

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus
Dominus Deus Sabaoth.
Pleni sunt coeli et terra gloria tua.

​Hosanna in excelsis.
​Benedictus qui venit
                In nomine Domini.
​Hosanna in excelsis.
​

Holy, holy, holy
Lord God of Sabaoth.
Heaven and earth are full of Your glory.

Hosanna in the highest.
​Blessed is he who comes
                In the name of the Lord.
​Hosanna in the highest.
​

Now listen to the setting by Duruflé and see if you can hear the similarity between the plain chant and the composer’s more elaborate setting. (I think it is especially evident in the opening statement of the women’s voices.)
​

The organ opens with a sextuple rhythm, which continues through most of the movement and might represent the six-winged Seraphim of Isaiah 6. The choral voicing is also divided into six-parts (SSATTB), except at the climactic point, where another voice is added. The dynamics are generally subdued, as if one is standing with Isaiah in awe of the Lord’s presence. The altos first introduce the Hosanna (“Save us now!”) at 1:28 in this video, which begins a gradual swell to the climactic moment (1:54 in this video) at the words, “Hosanna in the highest,” complimented by each voice singing its highest note, both within this movement and within the laws of physics (high B-flats for Soprano I and Tenor I, for eight counts at triple forte!). A short Benedictus ends the movement, heralding the One who comes to the grieving with the word of life, salvation, and resurrection from the dead. Readers who take the time to explore Duruflé’s complete Requiem might agree with the assessment of Nick Jones, who wrote the following in the liner notes for the 1987 Robert Shaw recording: “The Requiem is Duruflé’s greatest and best known work, a testament of faith, comfort, and tranquility all but unequaled among the music written in this troubled century” (Telarc CD-80135 liner notes, p. 5).

I mentioned earlier in this column that Fauré made several textual adjustments to his Requiem, including the omission of the famous “Day of Wrath” sequence (a playground for his fellow romantic composers), and the inclusion of the “In Paradise” text, which was actually part of the committal service at the time. The result for both settings of the Requiem explored in this column (Duruflé followed a similar practice in arranging his text) is that the word “requiem” (rest) is the first and last word of each work:
​

Rest eternal grant them, O Lord, and may perpetual light shine on them . . .
may the chorus of angels receive you, and with Lazarus, once a begger,
                eternally may you have rest.
​

​The use of the word “requiem” as sort of an antiphon reveals the true theology of the Christian funeral under the theology of the cross. God grants all the faithful the eternal, Sabbath rest of sins forgiven and life restored in Christ. So when we face the hour of death and the day of judgment, we can sing with the hymn writer, “The golden evening brightens in the west; Soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest; Sweet is the calm of paradise the blest. Alleluia!” (Lutheran Service Book 677.6).