Arts & Events

In spite of its many musical virtues, if Antonín Dvorák’s Stabat Mater were just another setting of the grief experienced by Mary, the mother of Christ, as she watched her son die on the cross, I’m not sure this work would be nearly as moving as it is once one is informed about the circumstances in Dvorák’s own life which gave rise to this composition. In 1875, the recently married Dvorák and his wife had a daughter, Josefa, who died at just two days old. Overcome with grief, Dvorák began work on a Stabat Mater. He didn’t get very far, perhaps only eight bars, when he put aside this work to fulfill commissions for other music. Two years later, his 11-month old daughter, Ruenza, died, and less than a month later, his son, Otakar, also died. The Dvorák family was suddenly childless, having experienced the deaths of three children in two years. Dvorák threw himself into composing his Stabat Mater, which he completed in 1877. In this work, one senses that Dvorák took the grief of Mary, mother of Christ, as a paradigm of his wife’s grief as well as his own at the death of their three children. The Dvorák Stabat Mater thus became both an intimately personal work and, at the same time, a universal work embodying the grief of any mother who sees her child die. 

Over the weekend of June 2-4, Berkeley Community Chorus & Orchestra gave three performances of Dvorák’s Stabat Mater in Hertz Hall. At the Saturday afternoon performance I attended, Eris Choate conducted. Vocal Soloists were soprano Ariana Strahl, mezzo-soprano Kara Cornell, tenor Brian Thorsett, and bass Colin Ramsey. Dvorák’s Stabat Mater opens in F sharp heard in the horns. The F sharp is repeated insistently, accompanied by descending scales in the strings. This motif will anchor the entire work. The chorus enters, singing softly the words, “Stabat Mater dolorosa.” Gradually, the chorus builds up the volume. Then the tenor takes up the same words, adding more details about Mary’s grief. Brian Thorsett made an awkward entrance, smothering the “dolorosa,” but he quickly recovered and sang beautifully throughout the rest of the performance. Next it was soprano Ariana Strahl’s turn, as she sang, O quam tristis.” This was followed by all four soloists and the entire chorus singing, “Quae maerebat et tremebat.” The following section, Quis est homo,” was begun by mezzo-soprano Kara Cornell, who was soon joined by tenor Brian Thorsett and bass Colin Ramsey. After a brief choral section, bass Colin Ramsey sang, “Fac ut ardeat cor meum,” joined by the chorus. Another brief choral section ensued, followed by tenor Brian Thorsett delivering “fac me vere tecum flere,” joined by the chorus.  

Another brief choral section was followed by what was for me the highlight of this Stabat Mater, the section “fac ut portem Christi mortem” beautifully sung by soprano Ariana Strahl and tenor Brian Thorsett. Nexy came a lovely solo by mezzo-soprano Kara Cornell in the section, Inflammatus. Dvorák’s Stabat Mater concluded with a rousing “Quando corpus morietur” sung by the four soloists and the full chorus, accompanied by the full orchestra. In the final dying moments, however, the orchestra goes silent, and the chorus softly intones the words which, in translation, mean, “When this body dies, may the glory of paradise enfold my soul.” On this note, accompanied by soft violins, Dvorák’s Stabat Mater comes to a close. 

On the Saturday program Dvorák’s Stabat Mater was preceded by a brief work sung by Berkeley Community Chamber Singers, Ubi caritas, by Ola Gjeilo, conducted by Ming Luke, and Beethoven’s Egmont Overture, conducted by Paul Schrage. In the Beethoven, the tempos were a bit ragged, slow and plodding at the outset, then gathering steam but in a way that sounded uneven.