The Story behind Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus”
By Richard White
I WAS a choir boy in St Luke’s, Winnipeg when I first heard and sang “The Hallelujah Chorus.” I heard it recently when a flash-mob sang it in a local mall. And there is a popular though unsubstantiated story that when George II first heard “The Hallelujah Chorus” performed in London in the 18th century, he rose to his feet to honour Jesus, an incident cited to explain why a tradition of standing during its performance remains. The chorus is from Handel’s Messiah. Forty-seven times this chorus uses the word Hallelujah, a frequency that could cause us to wonder if Handel actually saw the throne room of God while composing it.
George Frideric Handel was born in Halle, Germany in 1685. A strong Lutheran city, Halle had many schools and orphanages, and made fierce efforts to combat poverty. It was a city in the loving grip of the “pietistic movement,” which stressed biblical doctrine, personal faith and good works. Indeed, it had some of the best-known universities in Europe. Handel left Halle, spent a few years in Italy composing and eventually settled permanently in England, where he at one time was a tutor to the Royal Family, the Hapsburgs.
Handel enjoyed teaching through music. In London he met Charles Jennens, an Anglican philanthropist with a deep faith and deep pockets. Using the King James translation of the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer, the pair wrote a string of operas that celebrated the lives of biblical characters. But the Church was not receptive. The biblical oratorios irritated the establishment. Handel was preached against. Promotional posters were torn down and the opera company the two men created went bankrupt. By 1737 Handel’s life looked bleak. Living alone he had a minor stroke and was dogged by depression.
Then in 1741 two events coincided and miraculously changed his life. First, he got a letter from Jennens who suggested they compose an oratorio about the Divinity of Christ. He sent Handel a compilation of Old and New Testament texts – it was especially heavy in the area of Old Testament prophecy. Second, Handel received a letter from a musical admirer in Dublin who asked him to compose a work to raise money to free men out of Dublin’s debtor’s prison, and to support two hospitals. Handel accepted both challenges and set out to produce a musical work that could be performed to raise money for charities.
For 24 days he buried himself in the Scriptures, prayed and composed. The exercise would be a spiritual epiphany for him. One day a friend who brought him his meals walked in on Handel and found him physically and emotionally exhausted. He had just completed the “Hallelujah Chorus.” The teary composer told him he had had a vision: “I did think I did see all Heaven before me, and the great God Himself!” Like the Psalmist, like Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel and St John, Handel had had a vision of the throne room of God! And so he drenched the Chorus with praise.
The opening performance was scheduled for Easter, not Christmas. And Handel chose a music hall, not a church. He courageously asked if he could use Dublin’s cathedral choir. The Cathedral Dean was satirist Jonathan Swift who suffered from decades of nausea, deafness and vertigo and was notoriously difficult. True to his character, Swift objected to his choir singing in a music hall, a “club of fiddlers.” Then he changed his mind and approved the project.
On April 13, 1742, Handel’s Messiah opened to sold-out crowds. Dublin’s performances bought 142 men out of debtor’s prison and helped finance two hospitals. Over the years its performances have been used to raise funds for London’s Foundling Hospital and numerous other charities.
Handel died in London on Holy Saturday, April 14, 1759. He was 74 years old and had conducted The Messiah just a week before his death. His grave in Westminster Abbey is marked with the words “I know that my Redeemer liveth.” TAP
The Rev’d Richard White is priest-in-charge of the Anglican Church of the Good Shepherd (ANiC) in Sault Ste Marie, Ontario.
