Today we celebrate the First Sunday of Advent and begin the new Liturgical Year. To begin the Advent season, the journey towards Christmas, the coming of Christ, the Light of the world, we have chosen in Neumz the Introit chant Ad te levavi animam meam. The text is from Psalm 24. It is an expression that can be taken as a confession in the Eucharistic sense of the word. Here, the psalmist presents himself before God, raising his heart to Him: ad Te levavi animam meam. Thus, Advent begins with this elevation of the soul to the Lord. Before the prayer request that He descends is said, is the ascent of the Christian's prayer calling Him. The prayerful one, amid his trials, when his enemies mock his faith, turns to God, renews his trust in Him, and asks Him to enlighten him so that he can meet Him when He manifests Himself.

By incorporating Psalm 24 into the Liturgy of Advent, the Church does not change its literal meaning, but broadens and clarifies it at the same time; she obtains what God has placed in it that is universal and divine. It is no longer the psalmist who rises to God and sings of his trust, it is the Church, with all her members, those of the past, those of the present, even those of the future, for she is already incorporating them in some way. 

What she expects from Him is not material or spiritual help, but the Messiah, the Christ. The Christ who is to come in the flesh, who is to come in grace, who is to return in glory; and, because it is God Himself who has promised it to her, she awaits Him with such firm confidence that she feels strong enough to face the challenges that are presented by those who laugh at her inexhaustible hope. However, since she knows neither when, nor where, nor in what way he will appear, she asks Him to show her the way to follow. The Church, full of hope, begs the Lord to put her back on the road that leads to Bethlehem, on the road of Truth and Justice. The Liturgy of Advent, in short, invites the Christian community to live certain attitudes essential to the evangelical expression of life: vigilant and joyful waiting, hope, and conversion. That is why the Church cries out: "Maranatha: Come, Lord Jesus."

As for the melody, it is composed in mode VIII, it is full of that sumptuous and solemn character. Our Introit is undoubtedly a majestic confession, of great splendor and pomp. The beginning of this piece differs considerably between the Graduale Romanum and Graduale Novum versions: Sol-Re Fa and Re-Do Fa. The beginning of the melodic movement proposed by the restored version of the Graduale Novum is much more splendid: ad te levavi animam meam, towards you I raise my soul. The elevation of the soul of the prayerful one from the depths of his being occurs with great determination and firmness, two leaps of a fourth mark this first phrase (te and animam), in a beautiful melodic arc that ranges from the low Do to the high Do, passing through the pillars of the Sol, the fundamental of the mode, around which the melodic movement is built. Two leaps of a fourth in the words te and animam underline the predisposition of the soul of the prayerful person to place himself in the presence of the Lord, everything leans towards Him. In this first musical phrase, discreet joy reigns, the fruit of trust, abandonment, peace, and love. The prayerful one expresses the joy of being in His presence. In the following incise, the melody settles in the high register of the mode to sing the nominal group to which the pronoun te of the first phrase refers: Deus meus, my God. The prayerful being sings with total enthusiasm and faith, an admirable motif for its simple and loving confidence. The divine name is contemplated in the Do, underlined by a bivirga and amplified by a unisonic development in the accent of meus, a word in which the Re resounds for the first time and even twice, as an ornament of the Do. This incise closes in the high Re in which the soul suspended in the heights contemplates its Creator. In the following incise, in te confido, in you I trust, suddenly the melodic movement returns to the low register: from the Sol of te, slightly emphasized, the prayerful one raises his trusting soul again to the Do in the accent of confido, all in a graceful, enthusiastic movement. After a brief rest on the La that closes confido and the incise, the melodic movement continues in the last incise of this second phrase with another unisonic development on the Do. In the negation adverb non, clearly amplified and highlighted by a tristropha, this negation of the verb of the phrase is insisted upon before returning to the Sol and with a sublime melodic embroidery around the fundamental to sing with immense unction and hope, non erubescam, I will not be ashamed.

In the second musical phrase, neque irrideant me inimici mei, and may my enemies not laugh at me, to reinforce this confidence, the clamor of the negation non is taken up again in a second negation: neque, which is another plea to avoid the mockery of enemies. The tristropha in the Do resounds again, the Si that precedes the tristropha in the Graduale Novum version is a touch of compositional genius, and the semitonal interval confers greater force to the supplication. The elongated torculus that closes neque, slightly widens the rhythmic-melodic movement, losing none of the tension of the supplication. In fact, from the La, it rises with determination to the Do, even surpassing it in the Re, in the accent of irrideant, which resounds again, thus increasing the supplicatory tension of the prayerful one. That tension is momentarily appeased in the tristropha, again in the Do, which closes the word before the melody settles on the Sol, en me, to conclude the incise. In inimici mei, my enemies, the phrase ends with a majestic melodic ascent in the only quilismatic movement of the piece, which makes it clear that these enemies will not prevent us from setting our gaze on the Lord, from lifting our souls to the Father. Rather, they will be the ones to bow down: note the beautiful melodic descent by thirds, Do-La-Fa.

Up to this point, the prayerful one has sung in the first person singular. Now, he or she will sing in the third person plural. The liturgy makes us pray personally and collectively, although, in reality, any liturgical chant is at the same time the chant of the soul, the chant of Christ, the chant of the Church, our chant. In the last musical phrase: etenim universi qui te exspectant non confundentur, because all those who hope in you will not be confused, we reach the climax of the piece, the keyword of Advent: the expectation, the expectation of the coming of the Lord, and we will not be disappointed. After an elegant intonation in etenim, a sort of confident, firm recitative begins in the fundamental. The accent of the word universi is beautifully ornamented with a slight but elegant melodic ascent, Sol-Si-La-Si; the recitative reaches the pronoun te, and from there, with strength, full hope, in a sublime melodic ascent drawn with a double tractulus + torculus, Sol La-Do-Si Si Do-Re-Do, it rises to the Do, adorned for the last time with a Re. The semitonal interval of Si-Do, resounding strongly, amplifies the closeness to the Lord, the longed-for proximity of the prayerful one to God. This Introit chant concludes with another parallelism, semantic and musical: the echo of non erubescam is clearly heard in non confundentur with a very similar melodic design around the Sol. Everything in this Introit sings about Advent: the soul resonates with the pious and joyful expectation that colors this cycle.