Photo by Ben White on Unsplash Comfort ye. These are the first two words in George Friderich Handel’s The Messiah. Then, the text repeats these words: “Comfort ye, my people.” “Comfort ye” is the theme of the Handel’s great oratorio. As Charles King points out in his wonderful new book, “Every Valley: The Desperate Lives and Troubled Times That Made Handel’s Messiah ,” Handel’s masterpiece proclaims hope for a dark world. Actually, Handel did not write the words. The great composer’s librettist was Charles Jennens, a conservative appalled by the times in which he lived. Jennens believed in inherited institutions. He rejected much that was theologically current, including Deism, rationalism, and the Enlightenment. Faith, like the monarchy, rested not on reason but on awe and mystery, anchored by the King James Bible. Politically, Jennens favored the old, deposed Stuart dynasty, exiled in France, which made him a distinct outsider and potentially treasonous. King also describes the personal life of Jennens, which had more than its share of darkness. Jennens never married and depression plagued him. Likewise, for English society the times were tumultuous. Civil, colonial, and European wars haunted recent memory. Deep poverty was widespread, and the international slave trade fueled the economy. Jennens was a significant investor in the South Sea Company, which trafficked in slaves, and Handel owned its stock for several years. In the midst of all this theological, political, and personal darkness, Jennens created a comforting libretto that exudes light. He wrote about wonder, promise, and the ability to nudge life in that direction. Suffering is part of the world, but God stays with us through it. Jennens’s Messiah exudes optimism. Jennens accomplished this in three parts. Part I states prophecy (the crooked will be made straight and the rough places plain). Then the libretto moves into struggle, (he was despised and rejected). But in Part III Jennens declares a glorious expression of hope. Hallelujah! Comfort ye, my people. Handel didn’t care about any of this. He was a gluttonous, gouty man of the world with a well-deserved reputation for prolific cursing. But he saw something in Jennens’s libretto that inspired him to write soaring, passionate, melodic, and memorable music that puts an exclamation point on the pathos and joy of the Jennens’s words. For many, today’s times resemble Handel’s (and Jennens’s). Like Jennens, many suffer personal pain. Young people, especially young men, feel darkness due to college debts, home unaffordability, career stagnation, or difficulty in forming relationships. In the public sector, apprehension about the future is at an all-time high. This is not the time or place to catalogue the many causes of darkness in today’s world, but whether conservatives who worry that the tides of history run against them on cultural issues or progressives who fear the worst in climate change, deep anxiety is an epidemic. Whatever our political taste—be ye red or be ye blue—we can easily tick off multiple causes for alarm. In all honesty, sometimes the darkness wins. I strive for realism, and I detest Pollyannaism, which is often a popular fallback in church circles. Consequently, I know that sometimes life gets very hard. But not always. In our times, like Jennens’s, all is not lost; there is a better way. In this season may we give our mental make-up a little more attention (comfort ye), nurture hope (the trumpet shall sound), and wait for an opportunity to make a difference. Can I get Handel’s (and Jennens’s) last word? Amen. Steve Longenecker is Professor of History, emeritus, at Bridgewater College (VA).