Handel’s “Messiah” is a marathon, a marvel of orchestral and choral architecture, a spiritual balm. A hair less than 280 years after its creation, it has not lost any of its power. As dark as the season can be – and this one looks darker than most – it remains a light in the dark.

The pandemic’s toll on world morale has been untold, but its threat to its choral organizations was existential. The fact that the return of the Houston Symphony Chorus after more than 18 months came with “Messiah” last weekend seems almost fatal: a gift, just when the city urgently needed a pardon.

But it was not a simple moral victory. It was a triumphant performance, and all the more so because of the last minute cancellation by conductor Bernard Labadie. Julian Wachner, musical director of Trinity Church Wall Street in Manhattan, spoke at the burial site of a certain Alexander Hamilton, born about 15 years after the premiere of “Messiah”.

A composer himself, Wachner is also an expert on Handel who wrote an excellent essay for the New York Times last year on the many forms the “Messiah” took. over the years . Addressing the Jones Hall audience on Saturday, the genius and self-deprecating conductor demonstrated precisely how harder it is to sing (and sing clearly) with a mask on. He then turned to the issue of proper applause etiquette for the 2.5-hour opus, telling the crowd, ‘do what you gotta do’.

As with the masked singers, whose pitch and tone seemed barely muffled, Saturday’s concert was also notable for the size of the orchestra suited to the time: a reduced string cohort of about 30 musicians, plus a very small wind body – only two oboes and a bassoon, joined later with maximum impact by trumpet and eardrums. A pair of keyboardists, Scott Holshouser on harpsichord and Neal Kurz on the portable organ (a sort of mini pipe organ), helped further weave the remarkably full sound of the ensemble.

“Messiah” takes place in over 50 movements, a succession of arias (i.e. songs), recitatives (more verbose songs), accompanatos (sung with orchestra), choirs and songs. a duo. Keeping his cautious but lively tempos, Wachner was accompanied by four guest singers: soprano Magali Simard-Galdés, countertenor Lawrence Zazzo, tenor Andrew Haji and bass baritone Daniel Okulitch.

The music Handel wrote for soloists is so exquisite that it almost seems unfair to single out a few. Yet the moments that connected Saturday included the majestic “the valley of Ev’ry will be exalted”; The luminous “I know that my redeemer is alive” by Simard-Galdés; and Okulich’s thunder “Why are the nations all furious together?” Many versions of “Messiah” favor mezzo-sopranos over countertenors, but Zazzo’s otherworldly register brought out both the unbridled joy of “Here shall a virgin shall conceive” and the despair of “He was despised and rejected”.

The choirs, meanwhile, covered the emotional spectrum from the dark (“Surely he endured our grief”) to the exultant (“Worthy is the lamb that was slain”); Wachner sent several others in polyphonic overdrive, with the dizzying effect. And as ubiquitous as it may be, “Alleluia” never fails to deliver the goods, especially when the sopranos keep climbing on the “king of kings” section. Goosebumps every time.

Incredibly, even after 2 and a half hours, Handel saved his most exciting music to the very end – the chorus “Amen”, which pulls those two syllables out for what felt like days. The power of the “Messiah” is such that he never fails to plant the seed that perhaps humanity is not completely awful. This music is so full of hope and promise, again. Especially this year the orchestra and choir have created something to savor and worth rejoicing in, whatever your brand or level of faith.

Chris Gray is a writer based in Galveston.