good Friday

Holy week makes me feel a bit melancholy – the services, the readings, and of course, the music. In fact, the music during the week – especially on Good Friday – is so wonderfully reflective that I feel that by the time we get to Easter Sunday and hear all this happy stuff in major keys, it is somewhat of a letdown.

My favorite Good Friday memory is from almost ten years ago. As usual, I had booked myself to capacity with gigs; and adding to the intensity of the week, my friend and AIDS Ride partner Todd had been in the hospital for about ten days and wasn’t doing all that well. Even though I had visited him nearly every day, I had not really been able to speak with him much due to his condition.

One of the gigs was a late service on Good Friday at Fourth Presbyterian where I was joining the choir to sing the small part of Pontius Pilate in Arvo Pärt’s setting of the Saint John Passion. Since I only had a couple of lines, there was plenty of time to sit back and absorb the piece. Like Bach’s setting, Pärt’s Passion has Jesus and Pilate as soloists and a chorus as the crowd who ultimately demand the crucifixion of Jesus; however the evangelist (who tells most of the story) is sung by a solo quartet (SATB) rather than a solo tenor in the Bach. There also is a small instrumental ensemble plus organ.

Pärt has the remarkable ability to create several different effects using an extremely simple harmonic language; in this work, all of the solo vocal parts are scored completely in C major. For example in the role of the evangelist, he uses different combinations of the voices, extremes of range, voices crossing each other, etc.; but even though the only notes heard are in the C major scale, you rarely hear an actual C major chord.

The most amazing section is near the end when Jesus is on the cross and has just said, "I thirst." The evangelist describes the soaking of the sponge in vinegar and Jesus drinking. Then Jesus sings his final words – "It is finished" – and descends to a low A, the lowest note he has yet sung. The solo quartet sings in unison for the first time, also on an A, "And he bowed his head, and gave up the Holy Ghost."

Then after a pause, the chorus enters on D major – and after over an hour in C major, it’s as if the lights have suddenly been turned on – and concludes the work singing the text "You, who have suffered for us, have mercy upon us, Amen." It’s such a simple idea, but so wonderfully dramatic in the context of the rest of the work.

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After the service, I was heading home and contemplated stopping by to see Todd. However, visiting hours were almost over, it had been a long day, and parking would be impossible; but what the hell, I swung by and found a rock star parking space right by the entrance. The duty nurses knew me by then, so even though it was late, they let me in.

Todd had been fading in and out of a morphine fog for more than a week, so I wasn’t really expecting to do more than just sit with him for a bit. I walked into his room and was completely taken aback – sitting up and looking out the window, he turned his head and said, "hey, Frank." We talked and talked, and I stayed until well after midnight.

That was a good Friday.