Nothing compared to spending Holy Week in Italy’s capital, Rome, the epicenter of the Roman Catholic Church. The city echoed with music, rituals, and carefully practiced abstinence. The highlight of our visit was attending a performance of Gregorio Allegri’s Miserere[i] in the Sistine Chapel.
The work was an enchanting piece, shrouded in mystical and unwritten performance traditions and ornamentations. Its notes have been famously guarded as a secret for centuries. The Vatican had strictly forbidden anyone from copying or publishing the work – so sacred that it was reserved for the Pope’s own choir alone. Naturally, this encouraged careful listening.
The music was beautiful, mysterious, penitential, a heartfelt plea for divine forgiveness, difficult to believe it had been written by ordinary human hands. As the ethereal soprano solo soared to an impossibly high “C”, the angels on the frescos above smiled down upon us.
Back at home, I wrote it down from memory, note for note. The following day, we returned. To Father’s astonishment, my version was a perfect match. He stared at the pages in disbelief, a look somewhere between amazement and concern. I felt satisfied. Between us, we covered most reasonable responses.
Soon after, the Holy Father summoned me to a private audience. I was unsure what to expect, a fourteen-year-old who had reverse-engineered God’s sacred sheet music? Somewhere between sin and miracle I contemplated practicing a confession. Instead of excommunicating me, however, Pope Clement XIV greeted me with a smile and awarded me the Order of the Golden Spur. In that moment, I ascended from mischievous choir thief to Sir Mozart, Knight of the Papal Empire.
[i] Miserere (full title: Miserere mei, Deus, Latin for “Have mercy on me, O God”) is a setting of Psalm 51 by Italian composer Gregorio Allegri. It was composed during the reign of Pope Urban VIII, probably during the 1630s.