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Earthly War And Heavenly Peace New York
The Church of the Ascension, Fifth Avenue and Tenth Street
10/29/2026 -
Joseph Haydn: Missa in tempore belli in C major (“Paukenmesse”), Hob. XXII:9
Gabriel Fauré : Requiem in D Minor, Opus 48
Meredith Wohlgemuth, Sarah Frei (Sopranos), Lucia Bradford (Mezzo-soprano), Matthew Swensen (Tenor), Joseph Parrish (Baritone)
Voices of Ascension Chorus and Orchestra, Dennis Keene (Conductor)
D. Keene with members Voices of Ascension (© Voices of Ascension)
“It has been said that my ‘Requiem’ does not express the fear of death, and someone has called it a lullaby of death. But it is thus that I see death: as a happy deliverance, an aspiration towards happiness above…”
Gabriel Fauré
“What I long for with a deep ache inside me is sacred music. I long for the Fauré ‘Requiem’, for the Haydn ‘Mass in Time of War,’ for some pure celestial music...”
Poet May Sarton (Reflecting on the emotional and spiritual solace found in Haydn’s work during times of inner or outer turmoil).
The lower Fifth Avenue Church of the Ascension is my favorite. Not because of the large John La Farge painting of the Lord’s ascension.
But not only for its art. That good old atheist Mark Twain, living on 9th Avenue, would saunter to the street-corner by the church after services, puff on his cigar and wait for the exiting congregation to loudly whisper “Look! That’s Mark Twain.”
He was a star. And he knew it.
The church is also home to one of New York’s great choruses, the Voices of Ascension and their longtime Artistic Director Donald Keene. Last night Mr. Keene took chorus and orchestra through two totally opposing works. Haydn’s prayer and pean to war. And Fauré’s adoration of eternal life.
As expected with Voices of Ascension, the opening Haydn Mass was polished–almost too polished. The large Voices of Ascension Chorus has an almost magnetic relationship with Mr. Keene. They sung with military precision (appropriate for the subtitle of the Mass) and even with the soloists, the balance was fine.
I did hear (rather didn’t hear) two omissions. First, the orchestral forces had no trombones. And while Haydn said that trombones were optional, on this large setting, their gravity would have been welcome.
Second, this is called the “Timpani” Mass. And from my seat, close to the front, the kettledrums seemed more like a rhythmic foundation than the military tattoos. True, when one is accustomed to the angelic Verdi Requiem “Agnus Dei”, the image of drums and trumpets seems a bit disconcerting. But Joseph Haydn gleefully added Agnus Dei drums galore. As he did with the rest of this piece, Mr. Keene kept them in the foreground,
J. Parrish/M. Wohlgemuth (© https://www.joseph-parrish.com/Eva Zar)
On the other hand, no drums were needed for two of the soloist quartet. Tenor and mezzo were more than adequate. But when soprano Meredith Wohlgemuth or baritone Joseph Parrish took their solos, one forgot about the others.
I can imagine some writers pleading that Ms. Wohlgemuth should augment some gravity to her extensive solos, that her voice was more of a Mozart opera than a Haydn mass. But her voice was so utterly pure, her frequent arias so lovely in themselves, that the liturgical element was forgotten.
In both the Haydn and the following Fauré, Joseph Parrish was a different case. Here was a baritone voice of such confidence, such restrained power, such perfection in tone and diction, that Papa Haydn would say, without reservation, “This is what I’ve been aiming for.”
My expectation last evening was for a triumphant Haydn and a merely pleasing Fauré Requiem.. The opposite was true. Perhaps it was because the Haydn had cookie-cutter choruses. Perhaps it was the gentle Requiem, which never let up its soft adoration, its secular attitude that death was not terror and timpani but an entrance to eternal happiness.
My own recordings of the Requiem (I had never heard it live) had either a boys choir (by definition, cherubic) or a chamber orchestra and chamber choir.
But Mr. Keene already had his full “grown‑up” choir, a new excellent soprano Sarah Frei and a full orchestra (minus those kettledrums). He is also such a masterly conductor that–what could have been–a voluminous “lullaby of death”–that the Raphaelesque picture of life after death became a reality.
The start (and repeat in Libera me) was a forte passage. After that, though, Mr. Keene’s Requiem took advantage of his great forces for a fuller tone, a warmth, a rich coloring, and at times, what that fierce anti-Catholic Martin Luther affirmed: “God’s greatest gift is music.”
Harry Rolnick
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