When Gustav Mahler, near the end of his life, conducted the world premiere of his eighth symphony, in Munich in 1910, he did so with amassed musical forces — orchestra, eight vocal soloists, off-stage brass, and several large choruses of adults and children — numbering over 1,000 people. Although Mahler never liked the name, the work is still often known as the "Symphony of a Thousand." More an oratorio than a symphony in many ways, it ends with a mysterious exaltation of the Sacred Feminine (literally, Das Ewig-Weibliche), in the musical climax called the Chorus Mysticus. No, it has nothing to do with The Da Vinci Code. Although the end of Goethe's Faust would be a logical choice for a quick name-dropping reference in Dan Brown's hack novel, given how the man writes, it seems unlikely that he has read Faust.

Last night in the Kennedy Center, the National Symphony Orchestra and friends (Cathedral Choral Society, Children's Chorus of Washington, Choral Arts Society of Washington, Master Chorale of Washington, and the Washington Chorus) reached only about half that number, but it was still impressive to hear that many musicians confront Mahler's sometimes bombastic score. The Concert Hall is not large enough to accommodate that many people on the stage, so some of the singers and the added brass players (who sounded impressively like the apocalyptic last trumpet, as they should) stood in the second tier of seats, reaching toward the back of the hall.

Although Mahler conducted opera much of his life, the second half of the symphony is the closest he came to writing an opera: a complete setting of the final, transcendent scene of Goethe's play. Against all odds, the protagonist, who made a pact with the devil so famous that we now call such deals Faustian, is saved and ascends to heaven to begin eternal life with the penitent Gretchen -- herself improbably saved from damnation at the end of the play's first part -- a type of the eternal feminine whom Faust sees after, the Mater Gloriosa, the Virgin Mary enthroned above. Last night, the Chorus Mysticus, the final pronouncement of the angels, was sublime, unfolding in a grand, unrushed way, at times hushed -- remarkable, to be sure, for 300-some singers -- and at others ecstatic and exultant.

At the top of the vocal soloist pile was soprano Christine Brewer, a substantial presence as the penitent woman, with radiant high notes that soared over full textures. The placement of the soloists, on the top level of the choral balcony behind the orchestra, meant that we could not hear all them equally well. This was not an issue for operatic heavyweight Jane Eaglen, the grave sinner, whom we could always hear but whose tone and intonation were not always what one hoped.

Tenor Donald Litaker had a clarion sound for the most part as Doctor Marianus, the redeemed soul of Faust, although the positioning meant that he was covered at some of the louder moments. Mezzo Stacey Rishoi was a sultry red-dressed Samaritan woman (perhaps more appropriate in her choice of outfit to the role of Magna Peccatrix), with a rich, reedy voice that outweighed the other mezzo, Sally Burgess, as Mary of Egypt. Of the baritones, Donnie Ray Albert (Pater Profundus) had greater heft than Obed Urena (Pater Ecstaticus), who was pinched and thin at the top of the part's range. The brief part of the Mater Gloriosa, sung by a celestial Christine Brandes, wafted down from the highest tier, which caused her sound to break up slightly and become somewhat brittle by the time it reached my ears.

The main tempo of the first section — a jubilant setting of the Latin hymn Veni creator spiritus, introduced by a crashing organ chord and a near-hysterical shout — is Allegro impetuoso. Conductor Leonard Slatkin drove his musicians through a rough-and-ready performance of the first section, which ultimately garnered them some scattered applause. It's an approach that makes exciting sounds but inevitably tramples over some of the details in the score. When the first movement came crashing to a halt in its rashness, those exposed wind solos of the instrumental introduction to the anchorites' scene were perhaps that much more difficult to carry off well. Whatever the reason, there were significant tuning problems throughout the section, particularly in the oboes. In general, the NSO at full capacity (the score calls for about 150 musicians) gave a fairly reliable performance and had the necessary zip when they needed it. And by zip, I mean earth-shattering volume to compete with that many singers howling at the top of their lungs. I could imagine a better performance of the Symphony of a Thousand in some elements, but the effect of sonorous impact was certainly here, and that is one of the main reasons one attends a performance of this strange and magnificent symphony.

Only two performances of the eighth symphony remain, this evening and Saturday evening (June 9 and 10, 8 p.m.). There are no tickets left at the box office, so you will have to be creative if you want to attend. If you can get in, it will be worth your time to be lifted out of this lowly earth by the redeeming power of love for 80 transcendent minutes. Barring that, you may be even more impressed by the Baltimore Symphony's performance of Mahler's second symphony ("Resurrection") this Saturday (June 10, 8 p.m.) at Strathmore, where there may be a ticket or two left. I'll report on that one on Sunday.