Handel without hyperbole

A ‘Messiah’ for Philadelphians

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3 minute read
'Let's not be too presumptuous about his future."
'Let's not be too presumptuous about his future."

At this sacred time of year, when the miraculous Christmas story captivates hearts and souls throughout Western civilization, the question naturally arises: How come Christianity never really caught on in the Greater Philadelphia metropolitan region?

The answer, I submit, stems from Philadelphia’s unique status as the world’s only major city founded and deeply influenced by Quakers.

As every good Philadelphian knows, Quaker philosophy stresses the virtues of moderation, humility, egalitarianism, gentle persuasion, and consensus. And as the late University of Pennsylvania sociologist E. Digby Baltzell never tired of reminding us, this mindset has by now infected all Philadelphians, Quaker and non-Quaker alike.

One small example: On the 400 block of Market Street you will find a state historical marker that describes Benjamin Franklin as “the outstanding Pennsylvanian of the 18th century.” Now, you or I could reasonably argue that Franklin was the most remarkable human being who ever walked the Earth. But Pennsylvanians would rather play it safe — about Franklin or anything else. Chalk it up to our communal Quaker DNA.

Christianity, by contrast, is noted for its hyperbolic rhetoric. Its founder isn’t merely an extraordinary man; he’s the “Son of God,” the “King of Kings and Lord of Lords,” who walked on water, healed blind men and lepers, rose from the dead, and now reigns over the entire world forever and ever.

That sort of overstatement would make any good Quaker cringe.

These thoughts occurred to me earlier this month when I attended the Philadelphia Orchestra’s performance of Handel’s oratorio Messiah. The music is marvelous, I found myself thinking, but the words are so. . .un-Quakerly.

Consider this choral passage near the beginning (or listen to it by clicking here):

For unto us a child is born.
Unto us a son is given
And the government shall be upon his shoulder
And his name shall be calléd:
Wonderful!
Counselor!
The mighty God!
The everlasting Father!
The Prince of Peace!

Can you imagine devout Quakers getting their mouths around such over-the-top rhetoric?

As a public service — BSR is, after all, a tax-exempt, not-for-profit entity — I have searched for ways to expand Americans’ Yuletide celebrations to folks who might otherwise feel excluded. (See, for example, my “Christmas carols for nonbelievers and TV sports addicts” [December 2011].) In that same spirit, I have determined to create a new Messiah libretto that Philadelphians could sing as enthusiastically as Christians sing it now — a Messiah for Quakers, if you will. Here’s what I’ve produced so far, which you should contrast with the verse above:

For unto us a child is born,
Unto us a son is given,
And the government shall offer him an entry-level job
And his name shall be calléd:
Competent!
Suitable!
A decent guy,
A reasonable savior,
At least for now.
A reasonable savior, at least for now.

Wishing you and yours a self-effacing Christmas and a moderately pleasant New Year.

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