Last night, the lovely FutureWife and I attended a performance of Handel’s Messiah at Bristol Cathedral. Although not a magnificently polished performance (the alto was clearly singing outside his natural register, and the choir was a bit loose in their responses to the conductor) it was a soul-stirring experience. Bugger me, could Handel ever write choral music! The “And the glory of the Lord”, the “Glory to God” and naturally the “Hallelujah” choruses all raised the hairs on the back of my neck, and the excellent soprano, Caroline Macphie, enabled me to enjoy even the parts I would normally skip, like the “Rejoice greatly…” air. The setting helped too, Bristol Cathedral being a very awe-inspiring building. This:

was pretty much the view we had, and that’s from the cheap seats…

It got me thinking about the original cathedral performance of Messiah, in Bristol Cathedral almost 250 years ago. John Wesley wrote of the event:

“I went to the Cathedral to hear Mr Handel’s Messiah. I doubt if the Congregation was ever so serious at a Sermon as they were during the Performance.”

When it was first performed, Messiah was considered by many to be sacrilegious, almost blasphemous, in its use of Scripture for “entertainment”. As a result, the first performance in a religious setting (in Bristol Cathedral) didn’t happen until 1758, more than ten years after the score was published. It was a profitable occasion, the performance and subsequent dinner raised £203 16s, which equates to more than £26,000 in modern money! Hardly surprising that the Church quickly leaped on the Messiah as a fund-raiser and evangelical tool.

Even as an atheist, I must confess to feeling a certain tugging at the heartstrings during the performance. The glorious music, the imposing setting; they combine to lift one out of the day-to-day world and allow contact with a higher plane of emotion. It is not surprising that people attend religious services when this sense of transcendence is so easy to come by – it’s like being on drugs, but without the unpleasant side-effects. Handel is the new crack, which I’m sure he would appreciate as an epitaph…