I want to personally invite you to join me for this performance. We already live in a world full of noise, conflict, and uncertainty. Headlines blur together, public arguments never seem to end, and it’s easy to feel overwhelmed—or numb. Stepping into a concert hall to hear an oratorio that confronts a society in crisis might seem intense—but that’s exactly why it matters.

Elijah offers something rare: the chance to make sense of chaos instead of simply absorbing it. This is not background music. It’s a gripping human drama about fear, conviction, crowds, and the cost of speaking out. From the opening notes, the music pulls you into a world under pressure—where scarcity breeds panic, certainty grows louder than reflection, and public spectacle replaces careful thought. The massive chorus doesn’t just decorate the story; it is the story, embodying a society that shouts, demands answers, and turns quickly from devotion to accusation.

And at the center stands Elijah himself—not a distant saint, but a solitary, flawed, exhausted human being trying to speak truth in the middle of collective frenzy. He pushes back against misinformation, spectacle, and mob mentality. He calls people to accountability when it would be easier to stay silent. He is praised, then doubted, then hunted. His courage falters; he burns out; he questions whether any of it matters. In that way, Elijah feels strikingly modern: the individual conscience trying to hold its ground against the roar of the crowd.

What makes this work feel so powerful today is how familiar it seems. The crowd’s behavior, the hunger for certainty, the rise and fall of public figures—and the lonely burden placed on those who dare to lead or challenge the narrative—all of it mirrors dynamics we recognize from our own moment. But unlike scrolling through headlines or overhearing arguments on the street, Elijah slows everything down. You hear the buildup, feel the tension, and sit with the aftermath—without being rushed on to the next distraction.

Hearing it live is something I can’t recommend enough. Surrounded by hundreds of voices and a full orchestra, you don’t just observe these forces—you feel them. The experience transforms private anxiety into shared awareness, reminding us that the unease of our time is not something we face alone—and that individual courage still matters.

This concert isn’t about escape. It’s about clarity. It’s about encountering a work that doesn’t offer easy comfort, but does offer recognition—and, through that recognition, a deeper understanding of the world we’re living in.

If you’re looking for an evening that is intense, moving, and unforgettable, Elijah is one of those rare events that feels not only beautiful, but necessary. I hope you’ll join me for this extraordinary experience. I promise it’s a performance you’ll remember long after the final note.

At the heart of Zephyr Symphony and Vox Humana SF is a shared conviction: music is not neutral. Across centuries and cultures, composers and performers have used sound to bear witness—to suffering and resilience, to injustice and hope, to the urgent moral questions of their time. As organizations rooted in artistic excellence and civic responsibility, we believe that performing works that support community, dignity, and justice is not an optional extension of our mission; it is central to it.

Classical music has always been intertwined with social conscience. From sacred works that give voice to lament and consolation, to secular compositions shaped by exile, oppression, or resistance, this repertoire reminds us that art does not merely decorate history—it participates in it. When we program music that speaks to immigration, systemic racism, LGBTQIA+ lives, and the experiences of those who have been marginalized or treated as less than equal, we are engaging in a tradition as old as the art form itself.

Our commitment begins with immigration. Many of the composers whose music forms the foundation of the canon were themselves migrants, refugees, or exiles. Today, as communities confront displacement and the human cost of migration policies, music offers a language capable of expressing grief, endurance, and hope where words often fail. Performing such works affirms the humanity of people whose stories are too often reduced to abstractions.

Systemic racism likewise demands more than silence. Music can illuminate injustice, honor voices historically excluded from cultural institutions, and invite listeners into a deeper reckoning with the past and present. By uplifting works by composers of color and programming music that addresses racial inequity directly, we seek not only representation, but understanding—and the possibility of repair.

Our dedication to LGBTQIA+ communities reflects a belief that belonging matters. Music has long served as a refuge for those whose identities were denied or erased, even as many queer artists were compelled to hide their truths. Today, performing works that affirm queer experience, resilience, and joy is an act of welcome and visibility—one that insists that tradition and inclusion are not in conflict.

More broadly, our programming stands alongside all who have been marginalized—by race, gender, sexuality, faith, disability, economics, or circumstance. Music creates a communal space where difference is not a barrier but a source of meaning. In the concert hall, people gather not as categories, but as listeners, encountering stories that may not be their own yet call for empathy and care.

This work is not about partisanship or provocation. It is about integrity. To present great music without acknowledging the world in which it is heard is to limit its relevance and power. When music responds honestly to lived realities, it becomes a vehicle for connection, reflection, and shared responsibility.

Zephyr Symphony and Vox Humana SF remain committed to programming that reflects the fullness of human experience—music that consoles and challenges, that remembers and imagines. In lifting up works that support community and affirm dignity, we reaffirm our belief that music can help shape a more just and compassionate world, and that listening together is itself an act of shared humanity.

Every December, the musical world erupts into a joyful whirlwind. Holiday concerts, Messiah marathons, Nutcrackers, lessons and carols, community sing-alongs, packed pews and sold-out halls—it is a season where music becomes a cultural heartbeat, uniting families, traditions, and generations. It is glorious. It is meaningful. And it is undeniably exhausting.

By the time January arrives, many musicians find themselves catching their breath for the first time in weeks. Audience members, too, have filled their calendars—and their spirits—to the brim with beauty, emotion, and celebration. The silence of early January can feel unusually stark after all that sound.

But that silence matters.

December Gives Everything

Music in December asks a lot from everyone involved.

Musicians rehearse and perform at a frenetic pace: multiple ensembles, travel, last-minute substitutions for illness, the professional pressure to “give your best” every night. Artistic staff juggle logistics, production schedules, donors, volunteers, and the emotional weight of creating meaningful experiences for thousands.

Audiences, meanwhile, pour energy into participation—planning, coordinating, showing up, embracing traditions, and sharing the moment with loved ones. Live music is a communal act, and everyone contributes.

Great music creates connection. Great connection requires presence. Presence requires energy.

January Must Restore

Creativity cannot thrive on depletion. The body—whether performing or listening—needs time to absorb what it has experienced. January’s quieter calendar provides a vital reset:

• Musically: ears rest, voices heal, technique rebuilds

• Emotionally: space allows the joys of December to deepen into memories

• Spiritually: silence makes room for reflection and renewal

It is in stillness that musicians rediscover why they play, and audiences rekindle their hunger for the next performance.

Just as music is shaped by both sound and silence, a season of concerts must be shaped by both celebration and rest.

The Pause Makes the Crescendo Possible

When ensembles return later in January and February, it is with fresh energy and new purpose. Repertoire opens new vistas. Audiences listen with renewed focus. Musicians bring revitalized artistry to the stage.

Rest isn’t a break from the music.
Rest is part of the music.

So as we step into the quiet of the new year, let us honor the gift of silence—the breath between movements, the calm after celebration, the space where inspiration regathers. In that necessary pause, we prepare for what comes next.

Because when the music returns, it deserves to soar.

The Spirit of the Oratorio

Messiah isn’t an opera, even though Handel was one of the greatest opera composers who ever lived. Instead, it’s an oratorio — sacred music for chorus, soloists, and orchestra, designed for the concert hall rather than the theater. But don’t let that fool you: Messiah is full of drama, contrast, and character. Handel paints scripture with the same emotional intensity he once reserved for kings, villains, and lovers on the operatic stage.

The Arc of the Story

The work unfolds in three parts:

1. Prophecy and Birth – The longing of humanity and the coming of the Christ child. Listen for the tender lilt of “For unto us a Child is born” and the pastoral calm of “He shall feed His flock.”

2. Passion and Redemption – The heart of the drama, tracing Christ’s suffering, crucifixion, and victory. The chorus “Surely He hath borne our griefs” captures the weight of human sorrow, followed by the radiant hope of “Lift up your heads.”

3. Resurrection and Triumph – The final section bursts with joy and assurance: “The trumpet shall sound,” and of course, the jubilant “Hallelujah” chorus, where tradition invites us all to rise in celebration.

Handel’s Musical Storytelling

What’s remarkable is how Handel brings these ancient words to life. He uses music to paint meaning:

• Long, flowing lines for comfort (“Comfort ye, my people”)

• Leaping melodies for joy (“Every valley shall be exalted”)

• Tumbling rhythms for excitement (“And He shall purify”)

• Majestic trumpets and drums for divine triumph (“Glory to God,” “The trumpet shall sound”)

It’s a reminder that Messiah isn’t just about sacred text — it’s about emotion, humanity, and hope.

What to Listen For

• The Orchestra’s Color: Handel’s writing is transparent and elegant; each instrument supports the text like light through stained glass.

• The Soloists’ Storytelling: Each aria is a window into reflection, prophecy, or joy.

• The Choir’s Power: From the whispered devotion of “Since by man came death” to the blazing finale “Worthy is the Lamb,” the chorus gives the work its spine and spirit.

Why It Still Matters

When Handel finished Messiah, he reportedly said, “I did think I did see all Heaven before me, and the great God Himself.” Every performance since has tried to capture a glimpse of that same vision — not as a performance of perfection, but as a living act of praise and community.

So when you come to hear Messiah with Zephyr Symphony, listen not only for the beauty of the music, but for the way it invites us to participate in something larger than ourselves — a centuries-old conversation of faith, humanity, and joy that continues to resonate today.

See you at the concert — and yes, feel free to stand for the “Hallelujah” chorus.

With gratitude,
Don Scott Carpenter
Founding Music Director, Zephyr Symphony

Here are a few fascinating insights into the instruments, colors, and clever decisions that bring Messiah to life every December.

1. Messiah Was Originally Modest — But Mighty

Handel composed Messiah in 1741 for a modest orchestra: strings, two trumpets, timpani, and a continuo section (harpsichord, organ, and cello). There were no clarinets, trombones, or large percussion sections like we hear in later symphonic works. Yet, with this lean ensemble, Handel achieved extraordinary variety — from the hushed intimacy of “He was despised” to the triumphant blaze of “Worthy is the Lamb.”

2. The Trumpets Were the Superstars

In Handel’s day, trumpets were natural trumpets — long, valveless instruments capable only of certain notes in the harmonic series. That limitation makes their brilliance even more impressive. When the trumpets enter in “Glory to God” or “The trumpet shall sound,” they do so with dazzling precision, announcing heaven’s grandeur. In 18th-century Dublin or London, that sound would have been electrifying — a literal trumpet call of joy.

3. The “Continuo” Was the Engine Room

At the heart of every Baroque orchestra is the basso continuo — a group of instruments (often organ, harpsichord, and cello) that provide harmony and rhythm. In Messiah, the continuo acts like the musical foundation, subtly guiding singers and instrumentalists through shifting moods. Think of it as the orchestra’s invisible scaffolding — you don’t always notice it, but it holds everything together.

4. Handel Rewrote the Score… Constantly

Handel was a master recycler. He re-orchestrated Messiah multiple times depending on the musicians available. When he had oboes or bassoons, he added them; when he didn’t, he trimmed things down. Later 19th-century performances expanded his forces dramatically — sometimes with hundreds of singers and instruments! But modern conductors often return to the original clarity, letting Handel’s own craftsmanship shine.

5. The “Hallelujah” Chorus Isn’t the End!

Most audiences leap to their feet for “Hallelujah,” but the music doesn’t stop there. Handel continues with even grander orchestration in the final “Worthy is the Lamb” and “Amen.” The trumpets return, the timpani thunders, and the strings shimmer with light. It’s as though Handel saves his most radiant orchestral colors for the very end — a final vision of heaven itself.

6. Why It Still Captivates Us

Despite being written in just 24 days, Messiah endures because its orchestration serves something larger: the marriage of word and tone. Every instrument, every phrase, every silence serves the story. From the quiet comfort of “For unto us a Child is born” to the glorious blaze of “The trumpet shall sound,” Handel paints scripture in sound.

So when you listen this year, take a moment to notice the details — the shimmer of the strings, the grounded warmth of the continuo, the brilliant punctuation of the trumpets. You’re hearing a work that has moved hearts for nearly three centuries not because of its size, but because of its soul.

And that’s the true genius of Handel’s orchestration: grace, power, and humanity — perfectly balanced.

With gratitude,
Don Scott Carpenter
Founding Music Director, Zephyr Symphony

Few moments in concert life spark more whispered debate than the first bars of Handel’s “Hallelujah.” Do you stand? Do you stay seated? Is there a right answer?

Short answer: there isn’t one—and that’s okay. Here’s the context, the etiquette, and how we handle it at Zephyr Symphony.

Where did the tradition come from?

The custom is often traced to a famous story: during an early London performance of Messiah, King George II supposedly stood at “Hallelujah,” and—as protocol dictated—the audience followed. It’s a great tale, but historians point out that the Dublin premiere was the year before, and written accounts of George’s supposed standing appear only decades later. In other words: the origin is likely more legend than law.

What is true is that audiences have been standing for generations—in reverence, in excitement, or simply as a shared ritual that signals “this is the moment.”

Stand? Sit? The case for both

Reasons people stand

• Tradition and shared excitement—there’s a genuine “goosebumps together” feeling.

• A way to honor the music and its message.

• A reset of energy before the finale of Part II.

Reasons people stay seated

• Accessibility and comfort—standing isn’t possible or comfortable for everyone.

• Sightlines—standing can block the view of neighbors who remain seated.

• Modern concert etiquette—no obligation exists to stand at any point unless cued.

Both choices are respectful when done with awareness of the people around you.

Zephyr Symphony’s approach for Dec 21

At our December 21 performance of Messiah at St. Mark’s Lutheran Church (San Francisco), you’re welcome to stand or remain seated during the “Hallelujah” chorus. There’s no pressure either way.

Our simple request: follow the conductor’s cue for music-making, and be mindful of neighbors’ views and comfort. If you choose to stand, do so calmly and promptly; if you remain seated, that’s equally welcome.

(However, this is not a sing-along performance: please enjoy listening rather than singing.)

If you decide to stand: quick etiquette

• Be smooth: Rise quickly and quietly at the opening bars; sit promptly when the movement ends.

• Mind the sightlines: If you’re tall and notice those behind you remain seated, consider a slight step closer to your seat back to reduce obstruction.

• Hold the applause: Save it for the conductor’s cue—usually after the movement concludes.

FAQ

Is standing required?
No. It’s a tradition, not a rule.

Will ushers cue us?
We won’t instruct you to stand. Follow your preference and the room’s natural flow.

Can I sing along?
Not at this performance. Sing-along Messiah events are a different format (and lots of fun, too!).

Bottom line

Standing for “Hallelujah” is a beautiful tradition—but it’s optional. Choose what helps you listen best and respect those around you. Whether seated or standing, you’re part of the music.

We can’t wait to share Messiah with you this December—comfort, joy, and that unforgettable chorus.

The opening tenor recitative, “Comfort Ye, My People,” sets the tone. Listen for the violins—they don’t merely accompany; they echo the voice in gentle response, as if heaven itself is murmuring reassurance. Their lines shimmer with compassion, turning sound into solace.

In “The People Who Walked in Darkness,” Handel creates something extraordinary: the music itself walks. The bass line trudges steadily forward, each step marked by the orchestra, evoking both physical movement and spiritual struggle. You can feel humanity searching its way toward the light.

Then—light itself bursts forth. In “Glory to God,” the trumpets become radiant angels, blazing across the heavens. Their fanfares aren’t just brilliant; they are celebratory proclamations that bridge earth and sky. The contrast between the shepherds’ quiet awe and the celestial blaze captures the miracle of the moment.

Later, the fire of transformation ignites in “He Shall Purify (the Refiner’s Fire).” The relentless energy of the runs and rhythms feels cleansing—intense, alive, almost dangerous. Handel’s depiction of divine refinement is both thrilling and unsettling: holiness burns.

The drama reaches another dimension in “Why Do the Nations So Furiously Rage Together?” Here, the orchestra doesn’t merely accompany; it battles. You can hear the chaos of conflict and the defiance of power—the musical embodiment of human fury set against divine sovereignty.

And at last comes “Worthy is the Lamb,” a moment of sheer majesty. Handel layers the choirs and orchestra into a vision of celestial order, as if the universe itself has settled into radiant harmony. The final “Amen” feels infinite, ascending beyond time.

Listening closely, Messiah becomes more than a concert—it becomes an encounter. Every phrase, echo, and gesture invites us to experience not only the story of redemption but the very act of creation through sound. Handel paints with light and shadow, and in those details—walking footsteps, angelic trumpets, purifying fire—we find our own reflection.

Perhaps that’s the enduring miracle of Messiah: we don’t just hear it—we live inside it.

Did you know that September is Classical Music Month? In 1994, President Bill Clinton signed the declaration, recognizing the profound cultural importance of this music. It was a moment of national pride — a way of honoring a tradition that has shaped our history, inspired our creativity, and continues to connect us across generations.

Now, 31 years later, classical music needs us more than ever. Public funding for the arts has steadily declined. Schools have fewer music programs. Orchestras, choirs, and arts organizations around the country are struggling to keep doors open. Yet the need for music — for beauty, for connection, for a reminder of what makes us human — has only grown deeper.

Here in San Francisco, we at Zephyr Symphony are committed to carrying that torch forward. We believe that classical music is not a relic of the past but a living force for today: it inspires, heals, and creates community in a world that sorely needs it. Every performance we present is not just about notes on a page — it’s about shared experiences, stories told in sound, and the joy of being part of something greater than ourselves.

But here’s the truth: we cannot do it without you. While public support shrinks, it’s friends, listeners, and champions like you who make the music possible. Every ticket purchased, every gift made, every conversation where you share why music matters — all of it keeps the sound alive.

As we continue to celebrate Classical Music Month throughout the end of the year, I invite you to celebrate not just by listening, but by acting. Support Zephyr Symphony. Tell others why the arts matter to you. Come to a concert. Bring a friend. Make a donation. Together, we can ensure that this music continues to ring out in San Francisco — not just for us, but for future generations.

Classical music has always been about endurance: Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms — their voices have lasted centuries because people kept believing they mattered. Now it’s our turn to keep the music alive.

With gratitude,
Don Scott Carpenter
Founding Music Director, Zephyr Symphony

Every December, concert halls and churches around the world ring with the sounds of Handel’s Messiah. You may have seen posters for it, heard friends talk about it, or even wondered if it’s something you should experience for yourself. If this is your first time considering a performance, let me give you a quick guide to what Messiah is — and why it continues to inspire audiences nearly 300 years after it was written.

A Story in Music

Messiah isn’t an opera with costumes and staging — it’s what we call an oratorio, a large-scale musical work for choir, soloists, and orchestra. Instead of telling a dramatic story on stage, it presents the story of Christ’s life through scripture, sung from beginning to end. Think of it as a spiritual journey in music: from prophecy and birth, through passion and resurrection, to the triumph of redemption.

Handel’s Masterpiece

George Frideric Handel wrote Messiah in just 24 days in 1741 — an astonishing feat considering its scale. It has since become one of the most beloved and frequently performed works in Western music. What makes it so enduring? Handel had a gift for taking scripture and clothing it in melodies that are immediately memorable and emotionally direct. Whether it’s the hushed beauty of “For unto us a child is born” or the jubilant explosion of the “Hallelujah” chorus, Messiah speaks across time and tradition.

What You’ll Hear

• Choruses: From tender whispers to thunderous proclamations, the choir is at the heart of Messiah.

• Arias: Soloists step forward to sing passages of scripture with intimacy and reflection.

• Recitatives: These short, speech-like sections move the biblical story along.

Together, these elements weave scripture into a sweeping, three-part musical arc that lasts about 2 ½ hours (often with one intermission).

Do I Stand for the “Hallelujah” Chorus?

This is the most common question! Tradition has it that King George II stood up during the first London performance of “Hallelujah.” Whether or not that story is true, audiences have been standing for centuries. If you find yourself caught up in the joy and want to rise — please do!

Why It Matters

Messiah isn’t just a holiday tradition; it’s a work that blends faith, history, and music into something universal. Even if you come knowing little about the Bible, you will leave touched by its power: music that celebrates light in the darkness, hope in uncertainty, and joy in community.

So if this is your first Messiah — welcome. You’re about to join a tradition that has been uplifting audiences for nearly three centuries.

With gratitude,
Don Scott Carpenter
Founding Music Director, Zephyr Symphony

Every orchestra has its own rhythm. There are the weeks when rehearsals and performances fill the air with music, and then there are the quieter stretches — the periods of time between concerts. To some, these pauses might feel like silence. But in reality, they are part of the larger musical journey: the rests that give shape and meaning to the notes.

So how can you stay engaged with an arts organization during these in-between times? Here are a few meaningful ways:

1. Keep Listening and Sharing

Explore recordings, revisit past performances online, or listen to the repertoire for upcoming concerts. Share your favorite pieces with friends and family — the music continues to live whenever it’s heard.

2. Connect with the Artists

Our musicians don’t stop creating when the stage lights dim. Many are involved in teaching, chamber music, or solo projects. Following and supporting their individual artistry is a wonderful way to remain connected to the ensemble’s heartbeat.

3. Advocate for the Arts

Periods between concerts are excellent opportunities to speak out about why music matters. Share stories, invite others to attend future programs, or simply talk about what a concert meant to you. Advocacy builds momentum even while the stage is quiet.

4. Support Financially (if you’re able)

Ticket sales alone rarely sustain an orchestra. Contributions made between concerts help cover ongoing costs, support musicians, and ensure that the next performance arrives with strength and vision.

5. Anticipate What’s Next

Use the quiet to build excitement! Read program notes, learn about upcoming composers, or even plan to bring a friend to the next concert. Anticipation deepens the impact when the music returns.

At Zephyr Symphony, we see the time between concerts not as an absence but as an essential part of the cycle — the breath before the phrase, the rest before the downbeat. These are the moments when planning, dreaming, and sustaining take place. And when the music begins again, it’s all the more powerful because of the community that has stayed connected along the way.

So let’s keep the conversation going. Because the music doesn’t end when the curtain falls — it continues in us, and with us, until the next note is played.

With gratitude,
Don Scott Carpenter
Founding Music Director, Zephyr Symphony

I’m Don Scott Carpenter, Founding Music Director of the Zephyr Symphony, and I am delighted to welcome you to the launch of our Conductor’s Blog. This space will be a place for me to share the many things that excite and inspire me as a conductor: thoughts about the music we perform, behind-the-scenes glimpses into our artistic process, reflections on the role of the arts in our community, and opportunities for you to engage more deeply with the symphony.

Music is, at its heart, about connection. It is a bridge between past and present, a conversation between composers, performers, and audiences. With Zephyr Symphony, my hope is to bring you into that conversation — to open up the “why” behind our programming, the artistry of our musicians, and the broader vision we are building together.

In the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing:

• Insights on upcoming performances — what makes these works meaningful, and why we’re performing them now.

• Stories of our artists — introducing you to the extraordinary people who make up Zephyr Symphony and Chorus.

• Thoughts on supporting the arts — how your advocacy and generosity directly sustain not only Zephyr, but the cultural life of our entire community.

• Reflections on music and life — because the themes that run through our repertoire often touch on the deepest questions of human existence: love, hope, grief, faith, joy.

I believe that music doesn’t live only in the concert hall. It lives in our conversations, our neighborhoods, our shared imagination. My goal with this blog is to extend the spirit of Zephyr Symphony into those spaces, so that our work together continues to inspire long after the final note of a performance fades.

So — whether you’re a lifelong concertgoer, a casual listener, or someone curious about what classical music can offer in today’s world, I invite you to journey with us. Let’s discover together how the winds of music can carry us forward.

With gratitude and excitement,
Don Scott Carpenter
Founding Music Director, Zephyr Symphony