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But by the mid 20th century, a nagging suspicion had long been growing that perhaps Handel might have been right all along. Brave souls began conducting The Messiah in the "original version"—or at least one of them—in which chorus and orchestra were small and Handel's rich, polyphonic style remained clear. By 1958, when such scholarly editions as that by British Musicologist Watkins Shaw appeared, much of the world knew how the work may have sounded in Handel's day. American Conductor Thomas Dunn, who has made a specialty of The Messiah, has played four different versions of the oratorio on consecutive nights, insisting on crisply double-dotted rhythms, embellishments and cadenzas. The full impact of brass instruments and drums is saved for the "Hallelujah." Choruses are kept small enough to manage the fast passages with some semblance of accuracy. The leaner, swifter Messiah turns out to be far more exciting.
But tradition (often defined as the memory of the last bad performance) dies slowly. "There is this custom that any music dealing with sacred matters must necessarily be pale-faced and solemn," says British Conductor Colin Davis, whose recording of The Messiah is the best presently available. "I think it's a horrible hangover from the 19th century." Though some Messiahs are now smaller and better, many are bigger and worse. The stultifying Sunday-afternoon-in-church Messiah lives on, giving singers pleasure and listeners the fidgets. "Messiah has been the world's most misinterpreted piece," says Conductor Dunn. "But people get involved with it and it is a moneymaker. There are even legends about it—like the story that King George once had to get up and go to the bathroom and everybody in the theater rose, which is supposed to explain why everybody stands up during the Hallelujah chorus."
However played, Handel's Messiah transcends the boundaries of taste, religion, nationality and race. Its text, a skillful compilation of scriptural passages, is both dramatic and moving, suggesting the story of Jesus of Nazareth but shying away from the details. This, Dunn says, may be the secret of its universal popularity. "It's not so Roman Catholic that Protestants get all upset, and the Jews don't mind because Jesus Christ is mentioned only three times. Furthermore, it's a piece about a concept of salvation without being too specific. Even atheists don't get uptight."
Professor Koten Okuda, Japan's most noted Handel scholar, agrees. The Messiah, he says, is a Christmas staple in Japan and its greatest admirers are Buddhists and Shintoists.