Dark Night of the Soul
Text by St. John of the Cross
Music by Ola Gjeilo
Notes by Dr. Shulamit Hoffmann, copyright 2023
“Dark Night of the Soul was written in 2010, and premiered that year by the Phoenix Chorale. The text, three stanzas from St. John of the Cross’ magical poem Dark Night of the Soul, was suggested to me by Joel Rinsema, Executive Director of the Phoenix Chorale, and I fell in love with its passionate spirituality right away. One of the things I wanted to do in this piece was to make the choir and piano fairly equal, as if in a dialogue; often the piano is accompanying the choir, but sometimes the choir is accompanying the piano (or violin) as well, with the choir kind of taking the role of a soft, but rich “string orchestra” texture. I just love the sound of voices humming chords, it creates a sound that can be so evocative and warm, especially when doubled by a string quartet. To me, that sound combination has a similar effect to a great synth pad, only it perhaps feels more organic and alive.” – Ola Gjeilo
The text known as Dark Night of the Soul is taken from a poem by the 16th-century Spanish mystic, St. John of the Cross. It is likely that St. John wrote the poem after he had been imprisoned for months in a tiny cell with no light except that which filtered through a slit in the high ceiling. St. John forgave his Carmelite brethren who had imprisoned him, writing, “Where there is no love, put love, and you will find love.” His own commentary on his poem elucidates its meaning: “…the soul tells the mode and manner in which it departs, as to its affection, from itself and from all things, dying through a true mortification to all of them and to itself; to arrive at a sweet and delicious life with God.”
Ola Geilo’s haunting music matches the crepuscular poetic mystery. In the two bookend sections of the music, the piano fuels the perpetual motion with saucy asymmetrical meters and driving rhythms. The choir divides, some voices singing the action of the poetry, while others, like a Greek chorus, comment in the background. Melody lines move gingerly by small steps within a narrow range; the occasional upward 4th leap yearns. A soprano descant floats angelically in the stratosphere.
A contrasting static middle section, in several Medieval minor modes, with sparse vertical 4th and 5h intervals, paints a ruminative, interior world that slowly gives way to luscious, Neo-Romantic harmonies infused with rich 3rds. Rachmaninov-like figurations that span most of the keyboard build a climax of “Ah the sheer grace!” utterances.
A quote from Dave Brubeck’s Take Five jazzily punctuates the second perpetual motion section, bridging time and space. Drama and beauty have unfurled in a kaleidoscope of moods, colors, gestures, and styles before a coda, in major tonality, brings tranquil reassurance.
One dark night,
fired with love's urgent longings.
- Ah, the sheer grace! –
I went out unseen,
my house being now all stilled.
In darkness, and secure,
by the secret ladder, disguised,
- Ah, the sheer grace! –
in darkness and concealment,
my house being now all stilled.
On that glad night,
in secret, for no one saw me,
nor did I look at anything,
With no other light or guide
than the one that burned in my heart
Requiem K. 626
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)
Additional Notes by Dr. Shulamit Hoffmann
In the summer of 1791, Count Franz Walsegg von Stuppach anonymously commissioned Mozart to write a requiem mass in memory of his late wife. Walsegg, known for commissioning works and passing them off as his own, required secrecy for this project. Mozart, facing financial difficulties, accepted the commission but had to set it aside to complete his operas The Magic Flute and La clemenza di Tito. By October 1791, Mozart's health was deteriorating, and he returned to the Requiem, completing the Introit, Kyrie, most of the Sequence, and the Offertory before his death on December 5. His widow, Constanze, enlisted Franz Xaver Süssmayr, one of Mozart's students, to finish the remaining sections. Süssmayr completed the Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei, and reused music from the Introit and Kyrie in the Communion.
Mozart's Requiem in D minor, K. 626, stands as one of the most profound and enigmatic works in the classical repertoire. Composed during the final months of Mozart's life in 1791, the Requiem is shrouded in mystery and intrigue, contributing to its enduring allure.
The Requiem is divided into several movements, each reflecting the text's solemn and redemptive themes. It is a masterful blend of dramatic power and profound emotion, reflecting the solemnity and hope inherent in the requiem mass text. Its enduring appeal lies not only in the mysterious circumstances of its creation but also in the timeless beauty and depth of its music.