Messiah, Bass Accompagnato

Listen (3:03) 

For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, 

and gross darkness the people:

but the Lord shall arise upon thee,

and his glory shall be seen upon thee.

And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, 

and kings to the brightness of thy rising. (Isaiah 60:2-3)

Reflection: This is a jarring change from the previous alto piece. Listening to it for the first time, I almost wondered if the recording had been edited and slowed down. It is so slow, so low, so dour. It almost feels unnatural. I listened to another live recording just to confirm: this is, in fact the original key and speed. 

The last piece included Isaiah 60:1 "Arise, shine, for thy light has come", but now we are focused on darkness. Deep darkness, or "gross darkness" to use the King James language. In the post-exilic world, the prophets have begun to realize that their "happily ever after" has not happened, not even after returning home to Jerusalem. This has led to some sense of deflation, disappointment, and maybe even a societal depression. The Messiah, the glory of God, is still yet to rise. But first there will be dark times. It will get darker before it gets lighter. 

I want to take just a moment to acknowledge that Christian people of color have cautioned us not to misuse the "dark/light" language of the Bible in such a way as to say "darkness is bad and light/whiteness is good." Our society has done too much of that in the past: seeing whiteness as a sign of good and purity, and darkness as evil, or at least less-than. That was never the intention of the Biblical authors (who, let's remember, were from the Middle East themselves and probably had dark skin). 

But in this season of the year especially, reflecting on this dirge-like piece of music, I think it is valuable to think about the atmosphere of darkness we see as the days grow shorter and the sun retreats. As I look out my window, it is the "full blaze" of morning, but it is overcast and snowing. It is beautiful, but it is not bright. And here in the north, that's a seasonal reality. 

I feel that, like the rest of nature and like this piece of music, our souls slow down a bit in the darkness. It can lead to seasonal affective disorder and depression. We need to be aware of that. But it can also be a welcome time of turning inward, and reflecting. There are a great many things--the stars, for instance--that we can only see when it is dark. 

Isaiah 60, sung by this deep, slow bass voice, seems to suggest that the darkness itself is from God. It is a different flavor of holiness. A chance to switch off the blinking yuletide lights, and let our spiritual sight acclimate, so we can be ready for the rising glory to come. 

Prayer: God, thank you for being with us in the darkness, and for sending darkness to us when we most need it. Amen. 

Discussion Questions: 

1) How do you deal with the short days of winter? How do you live differently in the darkness? 

2) Do you have memories of holy times that took place in the dark? Candle-light services? Campfires? How does God's darkness see a different kind of light?