It’s unlikely that any piece of music could challenge the supremacy of George Frideric Handel’s ever-beloved Messiah.
Every year, as Christmas approaches, concert halls, churches, cathedrals, schools and suchlike fill with the strains of the immortal opening “Comfort ye”, the succession of gorgeous arias and, of course, the Hallelujah Chorus. The oratorio begins with the story of Christ’s birth, continues with his crucifixion and concludes with the promise of resurrection, making it an ideal piece for (handily) both Christmas and Easter. Its popularity has rarely dwindled since the 1750s.
Handel, born in Halle in 1685, moved to Britain in 1712 and became a naturalised British citizen 15 years later. Unlike his contemporary JS Bach, he was a freelancer and an entrepreneur: he started his own opera companies, employed the finest singers of his day and needed to sell tickets reliably by creating music that was direct, accessible and popular. In composing saleable scores, replete with theatrical, audience-friendly gesture, he was second to none. Had he lived today, his feel for a melodic “hook” could have made him a top writer of pop songs or placed his stage works in competition with Les Mis.
He turned in the 1730s to writing English oratorios – unstaged choral works – when Italian opera’s popularity was waning. His librettist, Charles Jennens, devised the text for Messiah and brought it to him hoping that he would write a work as powerful as the story of Christ deserved. Handel responded in a creative ferment, completing the work in 24 days and telling his servant that he seemed to have experienced a vision while composing: “I did think I did see all Heaven before me, and the great God Himself seated on His throne, with His company of Angels.” The result was launched in Dublin on 13 April 1742, for Easter.
The fact remains, though, that that was 1742 and we’re in 2025. You don’t need me to tell you that the world has changed in the last 283 years. Even if Messiah remains perennially popular, it has certain limitations in the 21st century. Originally, most of its audience would have been invested in its religious content. Today, this is less often the case – and would-be concert-goers around Christmas can feel shut out (or even rather fed up) when faced with yet another performance of it.
Why should endless repetitions still block any competition from other works after nearly three centuries? Why is there still such a paucity of alternative works for this merry season, let alone ones that draw in our multi-faith, multicultural and substantially secular society?
That was why I dreamed up the idea for the new choral piece being premiered in Symphony Hall, Birmingham, on 7 December. Aurora: Faith in Harmony has music by Roxanna Panufnik; the words are mine; and the sentiments embrace many faiths and also none.
It all began back in 2013, when, around Christmas, the Royal Festival Hall put on John Adams’s oratorio El Niño. The title plays on a double meaning: the weather phenomenon plus the translation “the little boy”, with Christmas associations. I fell madly in love with its mix of poetry, Latin American influences and Adams’s gorgeous music. I love Messiah, but it is refreshing to hear something different. It brought home to me that there was a massive market gap for contemporary works that provide an alternative end-of-year event. And I knew just the composer to write one.
Roxanna Panufnik is virtually a one-woman multi-faith project: she carries Jewish heritage from her mother’s side and Polish Christian from her father’s, and is a practising Catholic. Building bridges between different religions is a personal quest for her. Over the years she and I have worked together on two operas, several choral pieces and a song cycle. It seemed a no-brainer that she should write a multi-faith oratorio – not quite for Christmas, yet still Christmassy.
Many great world faiths involve festivals of light in the depths of winter. And the Aurora Borealis, if you’re lucky enough to see it, can strike awe of almost religious intensity into the hearts of even the staunchest secularists. It proved the perfect inspiration: an overarching image to draw in the secular community and bind our many beliefs and the wonders of nature together into one.
Aurora devotes five sections to explorations of festivals of light from different faiths, and the sixth to the Aurora itself. I’m convinced that to find the common ground between our peoples, we must learn to sing each other’s songs.
Throughout, music and words are deeply rooted in each culture of origin; we have been advised by numerous experts and faith leaders, all of whom are fully credited. Our journey took us – via the marvels of Zoom – to meet advisers in an Indian Jain ashram, the Office of Tibet, and Sikh and Hindu temples in the UK; we talked to a progressive Rabbi, Christian representatives both traditional and alternative, and an inspiring Muslim leader in Birmingham. Roxanna has consulted musical specialists within all the traditions involved.
We were overawed by the spirituality, intellect and depth of knowledge that these astonishing people shared with us, besides their openness to the idea and their delight in our efforts. Only once did we encounter any negativity about a multifaith agenda, which simply proved that Aurora’s home is a concert hall rather than a religious building.
We begin with Christmas, a carol that Roxanna has filled with modal splendour and jubilant peals of bells. Next comes Milad un Nabi, the Muslim festival of light that celebrates the birthday of the Prophet: a quiet, intimate festival, as the same date also commemorates the Prophet’s death.
Diwali is in three parts, with a verse each for Sikh, Jain and Hindu interpretations of this vibrant celebration. Hanukkah, the Jewish festival of light, celebrates the rededication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, recalling a legend in which lamp oil sufficient for one day lasted for eight in adversity.
From the Land of Snow: Gaden Ngamchoe evokes the festival that marks the passing of the 15th-century Tibetan Buddhist master Jé Tsongkhapa Lobsang Dakpa. And after an orchestral interlude evoking the Aurora Borealis, we close with a personal tribute to the Northern Lights. Perhaps the Aurora is like faith itself: it comes to you when you least expect it.
Now, uniting the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (CBSO) with 270 singers – the CBSO Chorus, Youth Chorus and Children’s Chorus – and the conductor Michael Seal, Aurora: Faith in Harmony is taking wing in a giant celebration in Symphony Hall, Bringing the Light, alongside new commissions from Joan Armatrading and Cassie Kinoshi.
Funnily enough, I saw the Aurora this year. Twice. In the summer I went to Orkney, visiting friends, one of whom is a keen Aurora-watcher. He had an alert that the conditions were right. We went up one of the islands’ few hills to take a look. There, over the northern horizon, glimmered the green, silver and violet of the “merrie dancers”. Sometimes it’s hard to believe your own eyes.
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Only a few weeks ago there were sightings in London, despite the light pollution. From my second-floor window, I could see, almost incredibly, the flickering flashlights that were not flashlights, but – depending on your point of view – celestial messengers, ancestral spirits, or the collision of gaseous particles with those of solar winds funnelled by Earth’s magnetic field towards the North Pole. Or, as it appeared to me, Kew Gardens tube station.
A miracle of nature? Yes – and once you know it’s real, the world beneath it becomes a bigger and more thrilling place. We offer you Aurora in the hope that you will think so too. Please enjoy Messiah as usual – just try adding something new as well.
Aurora: Faith in Harmony by Roxanna Panufnik and Jessica Duchen is premiered in Bringing the Light, Symphony Hall, Birmingham, 7 December, 5pm. Tickets here
