Eastern Pictures

The question of spirituality presupposes a path of self-transformation that can be traveled along two directions: from on the one hand that of experience, of the inner dimension, and on the other hand that of the body, of existence as physical and biological reality. These two paths are not opposed to each other, but tend to to intertwine, to to overlap, as can be well understood from the fact that many meditation processes also involve disciplines related to one's physicality, to the techniques that the ancient world called a "dietetics" of soul and body. The landing, however, is not the same from both sides. Proceeding along the line of the soul, the path of transformation tends to to think of itself in the perspective of history and to set goals of redemption, of salvation. When it focuses on corporeality, on the other hand, spirituality takes the form of a reflection on what historical is not, on the polarity between life and death, for example, and on the repetition of the same conflicts over and over again, often resulting in a tragic view of existence.

Being from always an expression of a community's values, choral music has addressed the most universal aspects of the search for spirituality, no matter whether religious or civil. More than in other forms of music, choral music has given voice to to a reflection on humankind that in the twentieth century, in particular, has also coincided with a broadening of cultural horizons tending to to include both history and geographical space, that is, looking both at the ancient world and at the contribution of different traditions from the Western one.

The question of spirituality presupposes a path of self-transformation that can be traveled along two directions: from on the one hand that of experience, of the inner dimension, and on the other hand that of the body, of existence as physical and biological reality. These two paths are not opposed to each other, but tend to to intertwine, to to overlap, as can be well understood from the fact that many meditation processes also involve disciplines related to one's physicality, to the techniques that the ancient world called a "dietetics" of soul and body. The landing, however, is not the same from both sides. Proceeding along the line of the soul, the path of transformation tends to to think of itself in the perspective of history and to set goals of redemption, of salvation. When it focuses on corporeality, on the other hand, spirituality takes the form of a reflection on what historical is not, on the polarity between life and death, for example, and on the repetition of the same conflicts over and over again, often resulting in a tragic view of existence.

Being from always an expression of a community's values, choral music has addressed the most universal aspects of the search for spirituality, no matter whether religious or civil. More than in other forms of music, choral music has given voice to to a reflection on humankind that in the twentieth century, in particular, has also coincided with a broadening of cultural horizons tending to to include both history and geographical space, that is, looking both at the ancient world and at the contribution of different traditions from the Western one.

The thread that binds the choral compositions of Gustav Holst, Leonard Bernstein and Giya Kancheli lies precisely in a demand for spirituality that connects to an ethical and political need. Their personalities and experiences are different. Holst was active from from a young age as a socialist militant and encountered Indian spirituality in his search for a general principle that would affirm the values of peace as a corollary of equality among human beings. Leonard Bernstein was engaged politically especially in the 1960s, and if he had a genuine transport for the Kennedy presidency, to which he dedicated the Kaddish Symphony (1963) shortly after his assassination, he cultivated a firm opposition to the Vietnam War and took on tones of an ethical radicalism that in the early 1970s prompted him to abandon politics, but not his ideals of peace and brotherhood. Giya Kancheli, for his part, followed a line of spiritual reflection capable of welding into one the religious tradition of his land and the most current ecological sensibility.

Disappeared to 84 years old in 2019, Georgian Giya Kancheli is the most representative of the authors forced by the Soviet system to a marginality close to oblivion, were it not for his activity as a film score composer. After the end of that regime he regained the center of the international scene, revealing himself as one of the most authentic and original figures on the contemporary scene. His music is rarefied, often based on long held sounds, on effects of emptiness and distance that give it a special aura. In Amao omi, typically, the text is reduced to single words that acquire at once phonetic and evocative value: the sky, the sun, the splendor are named, an Alleluia is intoned, questions as vague as they are fundamental are formulated, but everything floats in a suspended atmosphere to whose evidence the saxophone quartet contributes, almost another choir that in antiphon picks up the sound of the voices.

Amao omi means "senseless warfare" in Georgian, and Kancheli's goal is reconciliation, peace, the will to find meaning by overcoming disorientation. The chanting of Orthodox monasteries is the background from on which he draws, but his music mixes contemplation and force by drawing on the extremes of sonorities that can brush against silence to reconstruct an ecology of listening and a habitat in which human beings can feel part of a single community.

Leonard Bernstein wrote the Chichester Psalms in early 1965. He had received a commission from the Choral Festival in Chichester, Great Britain: the exchange of letters he had with the prior of the cathedral there, Walter Hussey, makes it possible to reconstruct the genesis and character of the work. After enthusiastically accepting the request, Bernstein hesitated to long without ideas, pencil in hand and blank paper in front of him. Then the intuition for a suite of Psalms with "straightforward, melodic, rhythmic, youthful" music. He could only think of the Psalms in the original Hebrew, however, and therefore asked his interlocutor about this posed ecclesiastical problems: "Is there any objection, in principle, to it being sung in Hebrew in your cathedral?"

Hussey had no objections and a little over two months later, on May 11, Bernstein wrote to announce that the _Salms _was finished and "quite popular in tone (as she suggested, there is also a hint to West Side Story)," with "an old-fashioned sweetness even in the most violent moments." Bernstein also reused excerpts from an inspired musical to a text by Thornton Wilder, The Skin of our Teeth, which he had in preparation at the same time but to which he ended up giving up in the course of'opera.

This is the description he gave by letter:

Theopera is in three movements [...] each of which contains a complete Psalm and one or more versions of another complementary Psalm, for contrast or amplification. The first movement opens with verse 3 of Psalm 108, evoking praise, and then moves to Psalm 100, complete, a wild and joyful dance in the spirit of David. The second is Psalm 23, complete, with a solo white voice and harp, but brutally interrupted by the adult voices with threats of war and violence (Psalm 2, verses 1-4). This movement ends without reconciliation between the two elements, faith and fear, which are intertwined. The third opens with an orchestral prelude based on the opening chorale, whose assertive harmonies now turn, however, into something painful. There is a crisis, but the tension suddenly eases and the chorus enters humbly, peacefully, singing the complete Psalm 131 with what is almost a folk song (albeit in 10/4!). [...] In this atmosphere of humility there is a final choral coda (Psalm 133, verse 1), a prayer for peace.

Before performing them in Britain, Bernstein conducted the Chichester Psalms to New York employing four solo voices and mixed choir. He also prepared two types of orchestration: one more extensive, with strings, woodwinds and a large percussion section, the other with harp, organ and more percussion, indispensable for the popular color intended by the composer.

In his search for a unified foundation of human spirituality, Gustav Holst came across texts from the Hindu tradition in the late 19th century. Between 1899 and 1906 he wrote aopera in three acts, Sita, inspired to a story from the Ramayana, and in 1908 aopera from camera from the Mahabharata. In the same year he began his work on the oldest text of that culture, composed between 1,500 and 1,000 to.C., the Rig Veda, words meaning "praise" and "knowledge." In order to arrive to at a clear, understandable text capable of transporting the Western listener into the open spiritual world from another culture, Holst decided to enroll at University College London to study Sanskrit and provide, thus, to his own translation. His work on the Rig Veda, which provided him with material for four sets of Choral Hymns, lasted until 1916. During the same period he also composed Two Eastern Pictures (1910) and The Cloud Messenger (1913), both based on his own translations of the poet Kālidāsa (4th-5th centuries CE).

The Choral Hymns from the Rig Veda have different forms of vocal and instrumental ensemble. The first group is for mixed choir and orchestra. The second and third for women's choir and harp. The fourth for male choir and orchestra. Holst reconnected with the classical music of India by combining Eastern rhythms and harmonies with ancient procedures of Western music, particularly the Phrygian and Misolid "modes." Of the more than 1,000 poetic texts of the Rig Veda he chose 14 in all, focusing his attention on those most likely to communicate universal values. Those in the third group are related to nature and creation. Hymn to the Dawn is a song about the beginning of the world; _Hymn to the Waters _refers to the life force of the waters, which spills over the earth from the sky; Hymn to Vena tells of a newborn child, the pinnacle of creation, and weaves praises of the shining light of the sun, which, through the mist that envelops our intellect, reveals the common filiation of humankind; finally, Hymn of the Travellers is a metaphor for human life as a journey in which the path appears more precious than the goal.

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Stephen Catucci