Symphony No. 1

On Wachner’s First Symphony

Dr. Wesley J. Wildman

Professor of Philosophy, Theology, and Ethics

Boston University School of Theology

In some cases, theology in musical contexts can only be discerned and evaluated with the aid of insight into the composer’s intention for the work.  In other cases, the theological force of a musical work extends no further than the biblical, liturgical, or other texts upon which it draws.  In yet other cases, the theological point trivializes its texts by hijacking them without regard to their own internal integrity.  Wachner’s Symphony No. 1: Incantations and Lamentations, by contrast, is one of these rare musical creations that blends text and music to make a self-standing and profound theological point that faithfully discloses the possibilities of the texts themselves.   Wachner’s symphony is, therefore, a theological achievement as much as it is a musical one.

Incantations and Lamentations weaves together the classic themes of God, suffering, alienation, and faith to create a poignant interpretation of the Babylonian Exile that expresses with uncanny fidelity the agonizing aspect of human life.  Within this framework, along with all the subtle overtones and undertones, Wachner’s main theological point is this:  Comfort in the face of suffering and loss is the hard won fruit of a faith in God that does not shrink from welding together praise and accusation, hope and brokenness.  There is much to be said for this insight, which is as much psychological as theological in character.  Indeed, in the phenomenology of developing faith, the ordinarily fierce distinction between praise of God and accusation of God loses focus long before the bliss of irrefragable comfort becomes faith’s constant companion.  The superficial opposition between worship and indictment of God is comforting, and their breath taking merger shocking, only to faith’s neophyte.  Wachner works hard to illumine for the careful listener the deeper reaches of the psychology of faith, and he does not hesitate to draw out and leave unresolved the wonderful and disturbing consequences for our theological understanding of God.

All this is accomplished in a number of ways, from the choice of texts to the use of rhythmic patterns that intimate conceptual continuity between thematically and conceptually disparate material.  I will comment on two of Wachner’s methods that are more nearly related to theological content.

First, the large-scale organization of the work is a deliberate juxtaposition of praise (the second and fourth movements) with reflective exploration of despair and grief, tinged with self-mortification, resentful accusation, and hope (the first, third, and fifth movements).  This structure legitimates these diverse forms of response to suffering and loss, presses them tightly together, and serves as the context within which the blurring of the distinction between them and the resulting comfort of faith can be portrayed.

Second, all of the thematic material of the work falls outward as willow branches from the central trunk of the third movement.  Accordingly, attention is drawn to that middle movement as the dynamic heart of the work.  There we see a series of transitions:  from grief (“By the waters of Babylon. . .”), to vengeance (“happy the one who pays you back. . .”), to almost vicious worship (“Let God arise, and let his enemies be scattered...”), to despairing accusation (“O God, why have you utterly cast us off?”).  The effortless quality of the musical transitions is crucial to the success of this portrayal of the psychology of grieving faith, for it makes the movement from one state to the next credible.  Only the last phase, that of despairing accusation, is in the mode of prayer.  It must be thus, for only when everyone else has been addressed in fits of displaced rage and bewilderment can the faithful finally turn to their greatest nemesis and their greatest love to speak their secret resentment with heart-breaking openness.  And then it is that praise is discovered in the midst of tear-pressed accusation, with “O God, why is your wrath so hot? hot? hot?” (fortissimo), yielding to a blistering “Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.”  The pianissimo “Hallelujah, Praise the Lord” that follows immediately in the fourth movement’s “Remembrance” echoes the second movement’s “Prayer” nearly exactly, but is infinitely more profound as a result of the intervening “Exile” of the third movement.

Wachner is right:  the bliss of praise and the bliss of blazing, accusatory lament are indistinguishable.  This is the path that faith must tread if the peace that passes all understanding is to be realized.  Incantations and Lamentations  make this point with clear-headed energy.  It is a disturbing, convicting, wonderful synthesis of theological insight and musical creativity.