By the mystery of Your holy incarnation . . . Help us, good Lord.
— The Litany
Hymns for Christmastide are generally based on St. Luke’s Christmas narrative (Luke 2:1–21) or St. John’s Prologue on the Word made flesh (John 1:1–14). Hymns expounding on Luke 2 (“Once in Royal David’s City,” “What Child Is This,” et al.) generally focus on the history of the Christmas story and the response of penitent faith. Hymns based on John 1, however, usually proclaim the theology of the incarnation and how the Christ is enfleshed among us: “Not by human flesh and blood, By the Spirit of our God, Was the Word of God made flesh” and “Veiled in flesh the Godhead see, Hail the incarnate Deity.” Sacred choral music for the season also follows these two complementary theological paths, which the church year traces from Christmas Eve (usually focused on Luke 2) to the Christ-Mass, with its appointed Gospel Lesson from John 1. Christmas Eve having passed this year, please join me during the Twelve Days of Christmas to explore three settings of selected verses of John 1 in Latin, German, and English, all coincidentally written by composers whose last name starts with the letter “H.”
Verbum caro factum est by Hans Leo Hassler (1564–1612)
Hassler, perhaps best known in the church for the ‘Passion Chorale’ tune (“O Sacred Head, Now Wounded”) was among the first of many German composers of the time who went to Italy to further their studies. He arrived in Venice during the peak of the Venetian school, which was soon to become popular outside its native city and make its way to the north. While in Venice, Hassler became friends with Giovanni Gabrieli (1554/1557–1612) and later studied with Andrea Gabrieli (1532/1533–1585), Giovanni's uncle. It is no surprise that Hassler’s sacred music introduced the Italian polychoral structures that would later influence many composers and flower during the Baroque era (circa 1600–1750). In Verbum caro factum est, the polychoral effect is heard at the outset, followed by straightforward text painting and Baroque voice leading. As one reviewer said, it is a “very Gabrielian work . . . with broad and exciting contrasts between upper and lower voices” (Denis Arnold, The Musical Times 109:1508, p. 949). In this video, notice how the camera gradually draws your eye from the song of the angels (see the “Gloria in Excelsis” banner) to the Christ Child, visually tracing the progression from Christmas Eve (Luke 2) to Christmas Day (John 1).
| Verbum caro factum est et habitavit in nobis et vidimus gloriam ejus gloriam quasi unigeniti a Patre plenum gratiae et veritatis. | [The] Word became flesh and dwelt among us and we beheld His glory glory of the only-begotten of [the] Father full of grace and truth. |
Das Wort ward Fleisch by Andreas Hammerschmidt (1611–1675)
Derek Stauff summarizes the life and significance of Hammerschmidt:
The composer, a native of Bohemia, fled to Saxony with his father in 1626 on account of their Lutheran faith. Hammerschmidt then must have received a good enough musical training to land organist posts at prominent churches in Freiberg, and later in Zittau. He wrote mostly sacred music for the Lutheran liturgy, devotion, and special occasions, adopting the most common genres of his age: motets, sacred concertos, dialogues, and strophic arias. (Notes 74:1, p. 125).
Like Hassler, Hammerschmidt brought Italian forms to Germany. But unlike Hassler, his music fell out of favor in the eighteenth century. Jack W. Schmidt summarizes Hammerschmidt’s unique dilemma: “Although Andreas Hammerschmidt was among the best-known composers of the seventeenth century, evidence suggests that his compositions were harshly criticized during his lifetime,” probably due to his “attempt to fully incorporate characteristics associated with the modern Italian style into his compositions” (Choral Journal 40:5, p. 30). And yet, being dead, Lutheran, and briefly out of favor with prevailing musical styles is sometimes a recipe for posthumous admiration, and Hammerschmidt is no exception. Almost all of his output is sacred vocal music, often regarded as a simplified form of the music of Heinrich Schütz (1585–1672). Das Wort, performed here by one soloist and a small ensemble of period instrumentalists, couples a sense of restraint (i.e., the work begs to be sung with conviction, not sentimentality) and a sense of high artistry, thereby lending musical merit to the proclamation of the Word made flesh.
| das Wort ward Fleisch und wohnte unter uns, und wir sahen seine Herrlichkeit, eine Herrlichkeit als des eingeborenen Sohnes vom Vater, voller Gnade und Wahrheit. Halleluja! | The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, the glory as of the only-begotten Son of the Father, full of Grace and Truth. Hallelujah! |
The Glory of the Father by Egil Hovland (1924–2013)
Hovland studied at the Oslo conservatory and later in Florence. He was the organist and choir leader in Fredrikstad from 1949 until his fairly recent death. Sacred works from the pen of twentieth-century Norway’s most prominent composer for the church include a Norwegian Te Deum, a Gloria, a Magnificat, and numerous works for organ. The Glory of the Father seems to have emerged as his most beloved choral work among Lutheran college and church choirs, no doubt bolstered by the St. Olaf Choir, whose founders were Norwegian. This accessible octavo is also frequently listed in Choral Journal as All-State Choir repertoire, indicative of its place in the secular choral arts. One reviewer describes Hovland as “a composer who is assured enough to cultivate a thin texture with nothing to hide behind” (Music & Letters 49:3, p. 301), and perhaps you will agree with this assessment after listening to this performance by the National Lutheran Choir. Listen for the gently unfolding melodies, softly clashing suspensions, and above all the sense of mystery that the glory of the Father was revealed in the birth of the Christ Child.
The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us. We beheld the glory of the Father, full of grace and truth. In the beginning was the Word. The Word was with God. In Him was life; and the life was the light of men. He came to his own and his own received him not. The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us. We beheld the glory of the Father, full of grace and truth. — St. John 1:14, 1, 11
In one of his “Preparing a Masterpiece” workshops at Carnegie Hall, the late choral conductor, Robert Shaw (1916–1999), once drew an intriguing parallel between Christianity and Christian music, saying, “Christianity is the Word made flesh. Sacred music is the flesh made word.” Parsing this profound claim into a poetic structure, the following ABBA parallelism emerges:
A Christianity is the Word
B made flesh.
B’ Sacred music is the flesh
A’ made word.
B made flesh.
B’ Sacred music is the flesh
A’ made word.
Have I mentioned in this column from time to time that one always sings when Christ is present? The same creative Word, who was in the beginning with God, came to His own, who received Him not. But to you, who receive Him this Christmastide in penitent faith, He has given Sonship through Holy Baptism and made you, yes you, His own child. He continues to set up a tabernacle for you in the Lord’s Supper, for what ‘Christmas’ but ‘Christ in the Mass? And you, the baptismal sons of God, cannot help but proclaim the Word made flesh in the flesh made word, even as you join with angels and archangels to welcome the “Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing” (LSB 379.4).
Perhaps the following sixth-century Byzantine hymn, “O Only-Begotten Son,” generally attributed to Emperor Justinian I (AD 482–565), puts it best:
Perhaps the following sixth-century Byzantine hymn, “O Only-Begotten Son,” generally attributed to Emperor Justinian I (AD 482–565), puts it best:
| O Only-Begotten Son and Word of God, Who, although immortal, for our salvation did yet consent to be incarnate from the holy mother of God, the ever-virgin Mary, Who without change was made man and was crucified, Christ, our God, Who by death did trample death, Who, being one of the Holy Trinity, is glorified with the Father and the Holy Spirit, Save us! (as quoted in the Introduction to Concordia Commentary: John 1:1–7:1) |
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