Where might you find a courtly Jewish gentleman enthusiastically narrating the Nativity story in the hallowed cadences of the Christian Gospels, assisted by a trio of mellifluous Christian vocalists and a troup of crack Arabic instrumentalists? If you are a history buff, you will immediately suggest the court of Alfonso X, that enlightened 13th-century Spanish monarch who attained the title of “Alfonso the Wise” because he encouraged scientific inquiry and cultivated harmonious relationships among the adherents of the three Abrahamic faiths who populated his court.

If you are an early music buff, however, you would suggest Sunday night’s concert by the Boston Camerata and the Sharq Arabic Music Ensemble at St. James Episcopal Church in La Jolla, a presentation of the San Diego Early Music Society. “Concert,” however, is far too narrow a term to describe the event, an approach to recreating medieval music that is closer to performance art, filled with processions around the church and improvised skits that portray the dramatic situations in some of the songs.

My favorite example was the Provencal noel “Pastres placatz,” in which Camerata director Anne Azéma ascended the St. James pulpit to impersonate the angelic choir and retiring Camerata director Joel Cohen fell to his knees below her as an amazed rustic shepherd, all to the quaint drone from a hurdy-gurdy. With her vibrant yet pure soprano and her blonde coiffeur done in the style of those radiant angels depicted in Italian medieval altar paintings, she made the ideal angel, and Cohen, the avuncular musicoligist/performer who directed the Camerata from 1968 to 2008, made an unlikely but endearing shepherd.

Although this program was titled “A Mediterranean Christmas,” it was anything but the usual potpourri of ancient Christmas carols accompanied by quaint instruments, a typical, shop-worn early music formula. The Camerata and the Sharq Ensemble combined to give a picture of the multiple music cultures that flourished in the lands bordering the Mediterranean from the 13th to the early 17th century, demonstrating how their performance practices interacted. In musicological circles, this insight is commonplace, but very few performing groups have actually applied this insight to music-making with any degree of sophistication.

I was impressed with the ensembles’ artistic premise stated in the program: “we attempt to provide a fertile mix of scholarship and creative energy.” After surviving decades of debate about “authenticity” in the realm of early music performance, this group's compromise is not only pragmatic, but refreshingly honest. We can never know exactly how music from eight centries ago was performed, and today’s musicians need to bring the creative zeal to its performance that parallels the vitality that made the old music precious to those who heard it then.

Much of the St. James evening was devoted to recreations of the songs from that great medieval manuscript attributed to Alfonso X, “Las cantigas de Santa Maria.” In addition to songs of praise to the Virgin Maria, the manuscript is filled with miniature miracle plays that recount the lives of ordinary folk, often in some level of distress, saved by the intercession of Mary.

This latter category made ideal ensemble pieces, with all the singers taking different roles and the various instruments layering their own take on the melodies (all the songs in the manuscript are strictly monophonic) to sometimes raucous consort. The “Gran derit” that closed the program’s first half included the piercing shrieks of two Arabic shawms and a European shawm, vigorous hand percussion (the fleet work of Sharq Ensemble director Karim Nagi), the penetrating rasp of the vielle (Dana Maiben), as well as and lute and oud. In another cantiga, “Madre de Deus,” we heard master of the slide trumpet Steven Lundahl sound the shofar in imitation of the final trumpet of judgement day.

In contrast to this Christian music, Mehmet Sanlikol, offered deft but intricate improvised solos on the oud (the Arabic source of what became the European lute) and sang the Sephardic chant “Respondemos,” an intensely moving plaint from the Balkans in the Ladino tongue. Boujermaa Razgui offered a portion of the Koran entitled “The Solitude of Mary” in the traditional, I presume, cantillation that would be heard at services in the mosque. The Sharq Ensemble also played lively instrumental dances from Morocco and Turkey.

Two other female vocalists, Anne Harley and Salomé Sandoval, complemented Anne Azéma. Even when this trio faced the St. James’ altar and imposing Christus Rex on the east wall (i.e., their backs to the audience), as they did in the “Madre de Deus,” they created a full, resonant sonority that filled the room. I was particularly moved by Anne Hadley’s plangent solo, the French lament “Heu, heu,” in which the cries of Rachel over the loss of innocent children took on the emotional depth of a Verdi aria. Venezuelan mezzo Sandoval, equally proficient on the lute, brought passion to her eloquent vocal solos, especially the melismatic Tuscan lauda “Gloria ‘n cielo.”

Boston Camerata, based in the city that is arguably the early music capital of the U.S., has a long, respected history in the North American early music movement. With stellar collaborations such as this one with the Sharq Arabic Music ensemble and the new direction of Anne Azéma, its leadership in the field is not in question.

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