SALZBURG, Austria — Beethoven’s “Missa solemnis” belongs in what you might call a pantheon of pantheons. Its only companions are the B-minor Mass and the St. Matthew Passion of Bach, the C-minor Mass and the Requiem of Mozart — maybe a couple of other supremely inspired works. The “Missa solemnis” is both peculiar and holy, something to marvel at and to love.

After writing the piece, Beethoven said, “My chief aim was to awaken and instill enduring religious feelings, not only in the singers, but in the listeners.” And he wrote an inscription in his manuscript, which was very rare for him: “From the heart, may it go again to the heart.”

It was this “Missa solemnis” that the Berlin Philharmonic performed at the Salzburg Easter Festival on Tuesday night. They did so with their frequent choral partner: the Radio Chorus of Berlin. And their conductor was Bernard Haitink, the senior and stalwart Dutchman. Their regular maestro, Sir Simon Rattle, had the night off.

It so happens that one of the best orchestral performances in my memory occurred at this Salzburg Easter Festival, under Mr. Haitink. The year was 2003. He conducted Bruckner’s Eighth Symphony, with awesome understanding and power. The Great Festival Hall almost lifted from the ground. Now, Mr. Haitink is known as a pretty reserved and sober fellow. But, when he left the stage that night, he did a private little fist pump — a sight hard to forget.

Tuesday night, unfortunately, was a different story. There was nothing to pump one’s fist about. It was a performance almost completely lacking in inspiration — and the “Missa solemnis” is no piece in which to lack inspiration!

The opening Kyrie was polite, neat, correct — humdrum. It had little of its nobility or majesty or spiritual strength. You had no sense that this music was in any way important.

Mr. Haitink did not have his four vocal soloists out in front, but rather with the chorus, at one side. This was the right positioning, as the soloists in the “Missa solemnis” are not so much soloists as four more participants in a grand enterprise. At the same time, it was hard to hear those soloists — and, frankly, it was hard to hear the chorus. The chorus sang precisely, and often beautifully, but with an odd mutedness. Indeed, the entire performance was muted.

The mezzo-soprano was Ekaterina Gubanova, who showed a rich, throbbing voice. The tenor, Tomislav Muzek, sounded okay in his upper register, but he had trouble in the middle (and this is putting it mildly). When we could hear the soprano, Luba Orgonasova, we could hear that she has a darkish, attractive, well-produced voice.

After the Kyrie comes the Gloria, maybe the greatest shout of joy in all of music — and it was considerably less than that. It was more like a bored recitation. Mr. Haitink was perfunctory, dutiful, pedestrian — and in the Gloria? In the “Missa solemnis”?

All through this work, we should be looking at glorious, transformative vistas. On Tuesday night, we might have been looking at suburban lawns — no big deal.

The Credo must be sung with absolute conviction. On this occasion, however, the performers could have been going through a grocery list. The music was almost surreally mundane. Absent were tension, drive, and uplift. At one point, someone’s cell phone went off, and it was the Cingular theme. The audience scoffed and groaned, but I was glad for the injection of some life.

As for the Sanctus, it was no better than the preceding sections, deprived of both its consolation and its exalting joy. When the singers delivered the line “Hosanna in excelsis,” they did so grimly, as though they were bringing bad news.

But there was good news in the Sanctus: The Berliners’ concertmaster did his solo work with heart and appreciation, rising to the occasion. This was probably the best “singing” of the evening. And the concluding Agnus Dei? It had little effect, making virtually no impression, in keeping with this effort as a whole. The bass, Kwangchul Youn, sang competently, but could not be heard in his low notes. At the end, Mr. Haitink held his hands in the air for a very long time, fending off applause. I’m not sure he needed to bother.

Mr. Haitink is one of the outstanding conductors of our time, and he had a bad night — a flat, listless one. Every conductor, of whatever stature, is entitled to such a night. But the timing was really unfortunate.