Handel’s ‘Messiah’ brings on poignant holiday memories

My Christmas season doesn’t begin until I’ve listened to George Frideric Handel’s sacred oratorio, “Messiah” — from beginning to end.

Two-and-a-half hours.

I’ve been doing this for 30-odd years.

My father, a colossal classical music buff, introduced me to the work when I was in grammar school. Many years later, as a young parent, I blasted “Messiah” on my home stereo system. My daughters got the “Messiah” bug early.

“Messiah” is — literally — an otherworldly experience. The oratorio is one of the most revered works in Western choral literature.

I officially began the 2015 Christmas season on Sunday night, Nov. 22, four days before Thanksgiving. I watched a recorded performance by Sir Colin Davis and the London Philharmonic.

I watch and/or listen to the work at least once each season, and sometimes as many as a half-dozen. Watching it all the way through is a must for evaluating the totality of the Christmas message. Just a portion of the work at a time — between jingling bells and roasting chestnuts — won’t do.

I’ve probably listened to the oratorio more times than Handel did. Often, I sing along to a performance in my best Oxfordian accent.

I’ve attended “Messiah” performances at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C., Segerstrom Hall in Costa Mesa, Robert B. Moore Theater at Orange Coast College, and at numerous churches.

Handel wrote “Messiah” during a 24-day creative frenzy in the summer of 1741, though he continued to tweak it over the remainder of his lifetime. Its first performance was in Dublin in 1742.

The libretto includes prophesies of Christ as well as references to his birth, miracles, Crucifixion, Resurrection and Ascension. Passages are taken from the King James Bible.

One passage, sung by the chorus is from Isaiah 53: “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned everyone to his own way.” The refrain, “All we like sheep,” is sung repeatedly. My daughter, who was 7 at the time, interpreted “All we like sheep” as “Oh Levi’s Jeans.” We still smile when that phrase is sung.

One of my most memorable Christmases occurred in 1988. I spent the holidays in the Holy Land with a group of 30 Christians from my church. I listened to “Messiah” countless times throughout the trip on my Walkman.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience as I witnessed the Scriptures come to life. I discovered that Nazareth, Bethlehem, Jerusalem, the Sea of Galilee and the Jordan River — unlike Middle Earth or Hogwarts Castle — are real.

Our contingent stayed at a hotel on the Mount of Olives in East Jerusalem, overlooking the Temple Mount and the Al-Aqsa Mosque. The hotel was a mile from the Garden of Gethsemane.

One night at dinner a member of our group asked who might be interested in accompanying him the next morning on a walk to the Garden of Jesus’ agony. As it turned out, three of us made the pilgrimage.

We left at 5 a.m. and walked down the hill and through the dark streets of East Jerusalem to the Church of All Nations, surrounded by the Garden. The entrance gate was unlocked.

Once inside, we went our separate ways seeking seclusion. I sat on a bench beneath an olive tree, alone. But I sensed his presence.

All was peaceful. The church bells tolled every half-hour. It was a good place to pray.

The sky began to lighten, and birds flew among the olive trees in the grove and around the façade of the basilica. We three concluded our prayers and met at the entrance to the grounds. We retraced our steps back up the Mount of Olives, through East Jerusalem’s crooked streets, to the hotel.

The narrow lanes were now teeming with people. As far as I could tell, ours were the only American-accented voices to be heard.

A passage of Old Testament Scripture from Handel’s masterpiece that I’d been listening to all week came to mind: “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light ... for unto us a Child is born.”

Merry Christmas.

JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.