Lent is almost upon us, and this year the choir has decided to give up English for the duration.

Or so it may seem, to singers and other congregants alike.

After Ash Wednesday, when weÕll perform (in English) Ariel QuintanaÕs stirring Here I Am Š a setting of a challenging text from Isaiah 58 Š the choir will turn to 5 weeks of Russian music. WeÕll sing the works in Russian Š Old Church Slavonic, to be more precise.

Why in Russian? ItÕs a fair question. A musical purist might answer, ŅBecause thatÕs how it was written.Ó And itÕs reasonable to expect that the alignment of vowels and consonants on given notes will be more indicative of the composerÕs desires than a translation would. Besides, translation brings with it a complex set of issues Š should it be literal, or more idiomatically correct, should one maintain the rhyme scheme, should one focus on rhythm and accents, etc.

Another reason for presenting these works in Russian is simply the lack of usable translations; while I was able to dig up translations of the texts, none of them really works for the music; theyÕre just good to give us an idea of what the song is about.

Finally, thereÕs the role of music in worship. In Lutheran services, the music by and large serves the word; melodies and harmonies are vehicles for language. The message is embodied in the text Š supported, usually, by the music, but itÕs the text which draws our focus.

In the Orthodox tradition, texts are hardly unimportant Š but the aesthetic of the music plays a somewhat different role from what we demand in Lutheran worship music. The Russian musical gestures are expansive, the harmonic progressions slow, the melodies passionate. There are frequent rubati (small variations in tempo). The goal is to bring the listener emotionally into the text via the music. Even for people who speak the language, the force of the music is paramount.

Also peculiar to Russian sacred music is the prominence of the bass section. YouÕll notice them handling more melodic statements and providing a deeper, darker timbre to the music than is generally the case with our usual fare. And there are almost always two bass parts. The basses are the key to singing Russian choral music Š theyÕre the musical focus of much of the work. And they sing really, really LOW!

The choir will present three pieces over the five weeks leading up to Palm/Passion Sunday. Now the Powers of Heaven, by Grigory Lvovsky, will come first. ItÕs a communion hymn with 4 verses, each arranged a little differently from the others. The second verse, which consists of the single line, se bo fh—dit Tsar sl‡v• (ŅLo, the King of Glory entersÓ) builds to a tremendous sound on the word Tsar (ŅKingÓ). The last verse is an alleluia, which ends Š appropriately enough for Lent Š very quietly.

The next piece will be a dramatic and beautiful work by Alexandre Gretchaninoff called Thou, Who Clothest Thyself with Light, a chant-like piece commemorating the removal of Christ from the Cross. It contains the poignant line, K‡ko pogrebœ Tia, B—zhe moy? (ŅHow shall I bury Thee, O my God?Ó), but concludes with the grand shout, Gh—spodi, sl‡va TebŽ! (ŅO Lord, glory to Thee!Ó) Changing textures and inconstant meter keep the piece moving forward, but itÕs the sheer beauty of the writing thatÕs striking. You can lose yourself in this piece; itÕs one of the most beautiful works weÕll do all year.

Lastly, weÕll reprise Aleksei LvovÕs marvelous Of Thy Mystical Supper, another communion hymn with pointed references to the scenes in Gethsemane and on Golgotha. This is one of the best-known Russian sacred works, and itÕs no accident, nor is it the work of a good agent; itÕs just that magnificent a work. It rises to powerful crescendi, then concludes with an almost whispered alleluia.

ItÕs powerful music throughout. Take a look at the translations to orient yourself, then close your eyes and let the music guide you into your own encounter with something greater than ourselves.