On Dan Forrest’s New Oratorio, CREATION

Note: These are reflections I wrote for my family in preparation for the New York premiere of CREATION, an oratorio by Dan Forrest in commemoration of the 225th anniversary of Haydn’s similarly-titled work.
Since CREATION is mostly in Latin, these reflections were intended to add to the understanding, appreciation, and joy of the performance.
I share them here in hopes that others will discover CREATION and experience the same wonder and delight in God’s good world as I have.

Performance note: Because this is a 12-movement work, it is customary not to applaud until the end of the entire performance.

I. Introit

The first movement, the Introit, comes from the 1,000 year old hymn, Veni Creator Spiritus (“Come, Creator Spirit”). A couple of summers ago I read a commentary on this beautiful prayer-poem to the Holy Spirit that recalls all his many works. The hymn is lengthy and it features multiple times throughout this oratorio.

The opening stanza, quoted here in the first movement of CREATION, invokes the presence and power of the Holy Spirit who created all things, asking him to visit us afresh with his grace. This prayer invites the Spirit to touch us with grace and refresh us even as he made everything new at the beginning..

It is a meditative and meaningful way of to enter into this work.

II. The Dance Before Time

The second movement imagines a time before time, before the creation of the world. The phrase itself—”the dance before time”—poignantly describes the Triune relationship of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, experiencing joy and delight, a dance, before the universe existed.

And out of that joy, delight, and wonder come all things.

The pace at which the instruments move in the background reminds me of the chaos described in Genesis 1:2—”The earth was formless and empty.” And the verse goes on to say, “The Spirit of God brooded (or hovered) over the waters.” And so the pace of the instrumentation reminds me of the chaos of the waters.

Meanwhile over the orchestra, the choir sings of the Spirit hovering over those waters, taking up the words of Psalm 29, “Vox domini super aquas” (“The voice of the Lord is over many waters”).

The movement ends, however, with the words of Genesis 1:1 in climactic witness to the presence of God at the very beginning of all things—”In principio … Deus” (“In the beginning … God”).

III. The Lion Sings

The third movement opens with a low drone from the basses and features for the first time a baritone solo. The image evoked by the singers is from a certain children’s series from the mid-20th century, where the Great Lion creates a fantastical world through the sheer power of song. I remember the first time I read that story, when I came to this description I wept for its beauty. This most powerful of all beings creates out of joy and delight and beauty.

This movement is longer than most. After the opening song of the Lion, the choir erupts in a boisterous wall of sound. As the formless takes shape and the void becomes filled, the chaotic cacophony resolves as the voice of the Lion brings all things into being. So the choir sings in glad testimony, “Creavit” (“he created”)!

This witness bursts into the words of one of the oldest hymns the church still sings, the Credo (“I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, of all that is visible and invisible”). With joy and wonder at the sheer power and the unbounded love of the Creator for that which he made, the choir sings in reply, “I believe!”

IV. Light

The fourth movement, Light, is a dance. It moves in the syncopated time of 11/8, always anticipating the next measure unexpectedly early, for joy.

Instead of citing Genesis 1:3 as one might expect (“And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light”), Dan quotes the words of Jesus in John 8:12, which the choir sings in Latin (“sum lux mundi ego”) while the soprano sings in English (“I am the Light of the world”).

Why do you think Dan quoted John 8 instead of Genesis 1?

At the end of this movement we hear for the first time a refrain that you’ll notice throughout: “et vide Deus ___ quod opus esset bonum” (“And God saw the ___, that it was good”).

The rest of the refrain, “tota pulchra, tota es, et macula non est in te,” comes from the Song of Solomon. It’s a love song to every aspect of God’s created world—”wholly beautiful are you, entirely, and there is no stain in you.”

V. Sky

The fifth movement, Sky, moves to the second day of creation where God separated the waters above the heavens from the waters on the earth and called the vast expanse “sky” (Gen 1:6–8). The song is based on Psalm 19:1 (“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament displays the work of his fingers”).

It begins with a duet featuring the soprano and the baritone, whom the rest of the choir joins in praise of the vast expanse above us. The movement ends with the refrain: “And God saw the sky, that it was good.”

VI. The Garden

Movement six is The Garden. The text comes from two ancient liturgies that spoke of God planting the garden, making this perfect place for humans to dwell in. The text says, “My chosen vineyard, I planted you. It is inestimably valuable. It is irreprehensible.” Listen carefully when the basses join in, and you’ll hear those two words—inestimabile and irreprehensible. The word “sacramentum” points to the holiness of this special place.

The beauty of this song from the perspective of biblical theology is that the garden itself, the Garden of Eden itself was the original temple. The temple is not first and foremost a building. The temple is where God meets humans. It is, as it were, the intersection of the divine and the human.

The Garden of Eden was that first place where humans interacted with God in the cool of the day. Of course, that is the tragedy of the fall, that human sin thrust our first parents from this garden temple, effecting a separation at the very place that was meant to be the intersection. And so throughout the Old Testament, the stories of theophanies (God appearing to people) and the tabernacle and eventually the temple were all meant to be picture prophecies of the restoration God would eventually bring so that everyone might once again enjoy oneness with God.

But just like the temple is not originally a building, so ultimately the temple is not a building. The true Temple is Jesus, God made human. And at the beginning of his earthly ministry when he was touring the temple grounds in Jerusalem, Jesus said, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” They thought he was crazy because that temple took decades to build. But the apostle John explains, Jesus was talking about the temple of his own body (John 2:19).

Jesus is where God and humanity meet. He is the intersection of the divine and the human. Through him paradise is restored. Through him we reenter fellowship and oneness with God.

VII. Music of the Spheres

The seventh movement zooms out as far as any lens could possibly go to take in the vast expanse of the universe. This haunting movement is set in 5/4 time, another unusual rhythm. It gives the feeling of something bigger than we are—familiar, yet inexplicably beyond us 

And as all as one part layers on top of another, the choir joins the music of the universe in singing the familiar words of the ancient liturgy, Sanctus: “Hosanna in excelsis” (“Hosanna in the highest”). This text has been sung by the church from its earliest days. Rooted in Psalm 118 and shouted on the first Palm Sunday, Sanctus has been sung by believers for millennia in praise of our Lord Jesus.

This, Dan asserts, is what the universe has been singing this whole time.

VIII. Wings

In Genesis 1 the six days of the creation week break into two parts corresponding to that description in Genesis 1:2—”the earth was formless and empty.” On the first three days, God takes that which was formless and gives it shape—speaking light into existence, forming the land and the skies, spinning the universe into place.

And on the latter three days, he takes that which was empty and begins to fill it. Thus, the eighth movement looks up to the skies in wonder at the flight of birds. The soprano joins the psalmist, expressing in English a longing to fly—”O that I had wings, wings of the morning; then I too would fly!”

Listen carefully to the woodwind instrument at the beginning of this movement. It plays a quick seven-note arc that calls to mind the fluttering of a bird in the sky. For those of you who read music, if you ever look at the sheet music, you’ll see that this arc looks like a child’s drawing of a bird in the sky, like a curvy letter M.

IX. Deep Blue

The ninth movement lowers our gaze from sky to sea. You can almost feel the boat rocking on the waves from the very first note as we are invited to peer into the oceans and hear the song of the great beasts who swim in the darkness.

Think about it. Most of those creatures were unknown for most of human history. It wasn’t until the last 100 years or so that we had the technology to go down and see them for ourselves. Yet they’ve been there from the beginning.

Why? Why were they there when no one could see them or study them or marvel at them? They were there purely for the pleasure of God. He always knew they were there, and they brought him great joy.

And so we hear them sing, “Alleluia!”

X. Ish Ishah

Finally, in the 10th movement, we come to the final act of the creation narrative, the creation of human beings, the ones who bear the image of God. The title, Ish Ishah, are the Hebrew words for man (ish) and woman (ishah).

Dan skillfully reintroduces the medieval hymn text, Veni Creator Spiritus, and I love the stanza he selected—for two reasons. First, he uses the segment of the Veni Creator that describes the Holy Spirit as “the finger of God’s right hand” (“digitus dei dexterae”). This is Jesus’s own description of the Holy Spirit at work in him: “I by the Finger of God cast out demons” (Luke 11:20, but compare Matthew 12:28).

But that analogy of the Spirit as God’s finger makes no sense without humans and our fingers! Even down to this detail, we reflect the image of the Creator God.

Dan notes that the inspiration of this song is Michelangelo’s famous painting “Creation of Adam” in the Sistine Chapel. It shows reaching out to touch the finger of Adam and bring him to life.

Second, this stanza of the Veni Creator is the part of the hymn to the Spirit where we ask him to give us the gift of love: “accende lumen sensibus, infunde amorem cordibus” (“kindle your light in our minds, infuse your love into our hearts”). And in the creation of the first man and the first woman, for the first time within the whole created order, the central attribute of the triune God that provided the music of the eternal dance—love—takes created form.

The movement alternates between the Hebrew and the Latin, but it ends climatically right where the creation week ends. The crowning achievement of all creation is the woman (Gen 2), and so the choir closes the tenth movement with the triumphant exclamation, “Ishah!”

XI. Do It Again

The 11th movement is the shortest, but perhaps most moving. I won’t say much about it since it is in English.

I don’t want to ruin the experience.

XII. Boundless

The final movement ends in dance! Taking up the words of Psalm 150, the choir, orchestra, and eventually everyone joins all creation in worship. Throughout the movement you’ll recognize bits of earlier songs the soloists and choir have sung, an audible reminder that all creation joins in praising the goodness and power of the Creator.

The ending reminds me of Psalm 98:

⁷ Let the sea resound, and everything in it,
    the world, and all who live in it.
⁸ Let the rivers clap their hands,
    let the mountains sing together for joy;
⁹ let them sing before the Lord,
    for he comes to judge the earth.
He will judge the world in righteousness
    and the peoples with equity.

Creavit!