The Passion of Saint John,
BWV 245
JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH
was born in Eisenach, Thuringia, on March
21, 1685 and died in Leipzig, Saxony, on July 28, 1750. Some of the
music in the Saint John Passion goes back to Bach's years at Weimar
(1708-17), but the bulk of the work was probably written at the
beginning of 1724. It was first performed on Good Friday of that
year, April 7, in Saint Nicholas's Church, Leipzig. Bach made
revisions on three subsequent occasions (more on that below). Parts
of the Saint John Passion were introduced in America by the Handel
and Haydn Society of Boston in the 1870s; the first complete
performance in America was given by the Bach Choir of Bethlehem,
Pennsylvania, on June 5, 1888: J. Fred Wolle conducted from the
organ, and the soloists were Mmes. Nevins and Estes, and Messrs.
Hamilton, Bender, and Thomas. The score calls for tenor and bass
soloists (Evangelist and Jesus), a solo quartet of soprano, alto,
tenor, and bass (arias and the roles of Pilate, Peter, servant, and
maid), four-part chorus, and an orchestra of two flutes, two oboes
(doubling oboes d'amore and oboes da caccia), two solo violas
d'amore, viola da gamba, lute, strings, and organ.
UNLIKE BACH
HIMSELF, most of us come to
the Saint John Passion knowing the Saint Matthew Passion
first. The bigger and more elaborate Saint Matthew, which came
along three, or possibly five years later (there is controversy about
the date), has tended to cast a shadow in which the earlier work is
swallowed up, and this has been so ever since Mendelssohn's Saint
Matthew performance in 1829 marked the beginning of the public
rediscovery of J.S. Bach. (The professionals had never forgotten.)
But if the Saint John is smaller in scale than the Saint
Matthew, it is hardly the lesser work in quality, though it would
of course be silly to claim that the master of the Saint Matthew
Passion had not learned from the experience of setting Saint
John. But the most interesting differences between these two
towering attestations of faith are differences in intention. Read
Matthew 26-27, Mark 14-15, Luke 22-23, and John 18-19, and you get
four tellings of the last days in the life of Jesus that differ in
tone, emphasis, and detail. Much of what gives Bach's Saint John
Passion its special character, of those qualities that make it a
work even more deeply cherished by many who know it well, can be
traced to the character of the fourth gospel itself.
For us, the Saint John is the first of Bach's two Passion
settings. But the long obituary of Bach written in 1754 by his son
Carl Philipp Emanuel with the help of Johann Friedrich Agricola, one
of Bach's pupils, mentions five such works. This is a mystery
probably now past unraveling, but our best guess is this: 1. At some
point while he was in Weimar, where he was appointed organist in 1708
and Concertmeister in 1714, Bach wrote a Passion, now lost. A few
movements in the Saint John and Saint Matthew Passion
do seem to go back to that period, and they may be the only surviving
portions of that putative Weimar Passion. 2. The Saint John
Passion of 1724 (and its various revisions). 3. The Saint
Matthew Passion of 1727 or 1729. 4. A Saint Luke Passion.
This survives in a manuscript from about 1730 that is partly in
Bach's hand, though the music is certainly not his own. Presumably
Bach performed it, or intended to perform it, in Leipzig. C.P.E. Bach
and Agricola may have mistaken it for a work of Bach's and thus
included it in their census. Of course, given his delight in
exhaustive cycles, Bach should have composed a Saint Luke Passion. 5.
The Saint Mark Passion of 1731, all of whose text and some
whose music survive. The complete score was last seen in 1764.
From 1717 to 1723, Bach worked at the court of Anhalt-Cöthen,
where he wrote much of his instrumental music, for example, most of
his concertos (including the Brandenburgs), the first book of
the Well-Tempered Clavier and most of his keyboard dance
suites, the works for solo violin and solo cello, and more. He was
extraordinarily happy at Cöthen to begin with, but two things
happened to change his outlook. First, his wife died suddenly.
Second, the Prince for whom he worked, a keen and accomplished
musical amateur, married a woman who cared nothing for the arts, and
with that the Prince's own interest in music diminished markedly.
Life and work at Cöthen were no longer a joy.
When news came in June 1722 of the death of Johann Kuhnau, the
Cantor at Saint Thomas's and Saint Nicholas's churches in Leipzig,
Bach presented himself as a candidate for the succession. After much
discussion and serious attempts to lure Georg Philipp Telemann from
Hamburg and, when that had fallen through, to get Christoph Graupner
to move from Darmstadt, as well as taking a look at Georg Friedrich
Kauffmann from Merseburg, Johann Heinrich Rolle from Magdeburg, and
Georg Balthasar Schott of Leipzig's own New Church, Bach was
interviewed, found theologically sound, and duly elected in April
1723. Councillor Platz of the Leipzig Municipal Council remarked with
a sigh that since the best man could not be gotten they must make do
with a mediocrity. Bach had presented a cantata, Jesus nahm zu
sich die Zwölfe (Jesus Took unto Him the Twelve), BWV 22, as
an audition piece in February, but there is no foundation for the
supposition that he was given the opportunity to present the Saint
John Passion for the same purpose on Good Friday, March 26. The
score was for the most part written in Leipzig and presented on
Bach's first Good Friday in office there, April 7, 1724.
The Saint John Passion was then essentially the composition
you hear at these performances, although Bach changed it considerably
when he brought it back for Good Friday in 1725, altered it again for
a performance about 1730, and finally, sometime in the 1740s,
restored it to something very close to its original shape. We shall
take note of some of these changes later.
The work comprises words and music from many sources. The core of
the libretto is Chapters 18 and 19 of the Gospel According to Saint
John (in Dr. Martin Luther's German translation). Upon this, Bach
superimposes an elaborate body of commentary, and for two reasons,
one didactic and religious, the other artistic. Regarding the first,
the purpose of performing a Passion on Good Friday was not just to
tell the story as vividly and affectingly as possible, but also to
teach its meaning. That is the function of the added material. As for
the second reason, the interpolated arias and congregational hymns
require music very different from that used for the Biblical
narrative, and the sustained melodies and stable rhythms provide
welcome contrast to the looser, less densely composed reciting styles
of the Evangelist and the dramatis personae.
The hymns or chorales, as they are often called, in the Saint
John Passion come from several sixteenth- and seventeenth-century
hymnals. For the other "editorial" interpolations, Bach went chiefly
to Der für die Sünden der Welt gemarterte und sterbende
Jesus (Jesus Tortured and Dying for the Sins of the World) by
Barthold Heinrich Brockes, a Hamburg senator and polymath, who
published this poem, which quickly became immensely famous and
popular, in 1712. (The three most important Hamburg composers of that
period, Reinhard Keiser, Telemann, and Handel, all set it to music.)
Bach's second source was a Passion based on Saint John by
another writer from Hamburg, the poet and librettist Christian
Heinrich Postel. For the soprano aria "Ich folge dir
gleichfalls" (I follow Thee also), Arthur Mendel, who knew more
about the Saint John Passion than anybody since Bach, cites as source
Der Grünen Jugend Nothwendige Gedanken (Thoughts
Necessary to Innocent Youth) by the Saxon poet and playwright
Christian Weise. None of these texts is taken over verbatim, and we
do not know who adapted them for this libretto. It could have been
Bach himself.
The two layers of commentary, one consisting of arias,
recitatives, and choruses, the other of hymns, and the differences
between the two layers, give rise to the rich and telling
counterpoint&endash;verbal, spiritual, musical,
psychological&endash;that is the base of much of the expressive power
of the Bach Passions. In the imagery of their poetry and the
sophisticated elaboration of their music, the arias represent the
highest level of complexity. The hymns are a plainer sort of verse,
and they are also the most popular sort of music in the Passions.
Even to an American concert audience at the end of the twentieth
century, it is clear that they stand for something simple and
familiar in style; to the Good Friday congregations in the Leipzig
churches of Bach's time they would of course have been familiar in
fact as well. Thus, the two kinds of commentary illuminate the
Biblical account from two different directions, the arias, being
"difficult" and new, offering challenge by their demands on the
listeners' attention, the chorales, simple and familiar as the gospel
itself, providing assurance and stability.
It is not possible, neither would it be useful, to give a
detailed, blow-by- blow account of the Saint John Passion
here; as in all vocal music, the way in is through the text. I do,
however, want to point out some special features along the way. Bach
begins with a grand chorus, "Herr, unser Herrscher" (Lord,
Thou our Master), which is a song of praise and at the same time a
reminder to the congregation of the fundamental theme of the Passion.
This is one of the movements that Bach replaced and ultimately
restored. What he replaced it with you can hear in the Saint
Matthew Passion, for it is the immense setting of the chorale
"O Mensch bewein' dein' Sünde gross" (O Man, Bewail thy
Great Sin) that now closes Part One of that work.
Bach reverted to his original design after "O Mensch
bewein'" had found a permanent place in the Saint Matthew
Passion. These two choruses are strikingly different in
character, and not only because one of them is anchored to a familiar
hymn. "O Mensch bewein'," for all the torment in its text, is
a serenely majestic piece of music; "Herr, unser Herrscher,"
with its chains of unrelenting dissonance between the two oboes and
the turmoil of the roiling sixteenth-notes in the strings, especially
when they invade the bass, is full of anguish. Even if it is not
quite so miraculous a composition as "O Mensch bewein'," it
is, by virtue of that raw anguish, more typically "Saint John." It is
hard not to feel that Bach's ultimate disposition of the two choruses
between the two Passions was the right one.
Part One, which comprises about one third of the score, takes us
through Peter's betrayal of Jesus. It includes three commenting
arias, the alto's "Von den Stricken meiner Sünden" (From
the shackles of my vices' bondage), whose two intertwined oboe lines
hark back to that most characteristic sound of the opening chorus;
the enchanting flute-and-soprano duet (actually for both flutes in
unison), "Ich folge dir gleichfalls," where the verbs
"ziehen" (to pull) and "schieben" (to push) stimulate
Bach's delight in musical illustration; and the impassioned and
tormented tenor solo, accompanied by "tutti gli stromenti"
(all the instruments), "Ach, mein Sinn" (O my soul). This last
number Bach replaced for a while with an even more wildly emotional
piece, a bass aria, "Zerschmettert mich" (Destroy me), to
which a soprano adds a chorale.
These soprano and tenor arias show clearly how such commentary
works. The Evangelist has just sung the words, "And Simon Peter
followed Jesus, and so did another disciple," whereupon the soprano,
speaking for the Christian congregation, declares her intention also
to follow Jesus "with joyous footsteps." This is the more poignant
because we know that Simon Peter will follow Jesus only as far as the
door of the palace of the High Priest, and that he will betray his
master in the exchanges just outside that door. Those in the
congregation who knew their Bible would at this point have remembered
a passage from an earlier chapter of Saint John's Gospel:
Simon Peter said unto him, "Lord, whither goest thou?"
Jesus answered him, "Whither I go, thou canst not follow me now;
but thou shalt follow me afterwards." Peter said unto him, "Lord,
why cannot I follow thee now? I will lay down my life for thy
sake." Jesus answered him, "Wilt thou lay down thy life for my
sake? Verily, verily, I say unto thee, The cock shall not crow,
till thou hast denied me thrice."
We hear Peter deny Jesus three times, and at the third time, John
tells us, "immediately the cock crew." Here Bach borrows two
sentences from Saint Matthew: "And Peter remembered the word of
Jesus, which said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me
thrice. And he went out, and wept bitterly." (Bach was counting on
his listeners' memories, since in the Saint John Passion there
is no explicit reference before this to Jesus' prophecy of Peter's
betrayal and the crowing of the cock.) In the difference between
Bach's setting of these words here and in the Saint Matthew
Passion we can sense, in microcosm, the difference between these
two great works: "weinete bitterlich" in the Saint John
Passion is by far the more extreme in tortured expression, more
extravagant in line and harmony. It is, altogether, raw and
unbridled.
Then, the moment the "weeping" melisma has come to rest, the full
orchestra bursts out in the same key, F-sharp minor, a long journey
indeed from the G minor of "Herr, unser Herrscher," to begin
the tenor's self-flagellating "Ach, mein Sinn." Here Bach adds
a second commentary from another point of view, a simple hymn in the
major key most closely related to F-sharp minor, expressing the wish
that Peter's example may sharpen the believer's conscience in the
wake of evil. Bach returns to this hymn twice more, once when the
crucified Jesus has said to John, "Behold thy mother!" and again
immediately following Jesus' death.
Bach begins Part Two with another simple hymn, seeming thus to
reduce the intermission to a technical convenience rather than
treating it as a great structural division. (In the Leipzig churches
a sermon would have been preached between the two parts.) This
chorale also returns, immediately before the Deposition.
Now the work begins to move forward with extraordinary swiftness,
and as the dialogue between Jesus and Pilate unfolds, Bach imposes a
powerful symmetrical design on the music. (This was first pointed out
in the study of the Saint John Passion published in 1924 by
the German Bach scholar Friedrich Smend.) The chorales "Ach
grosser König" (Ah, Great King) and "In meines Herzens
Grunde" (Within my heart's recesses) form the outer brackets of
this design. Just after the former and again just before the latter,
Bach places a triptych consisting of a pair of crowd choruses
separated each by an aria: the arias are, respectively, the tenor's
"Erwäge" (Imagine), preceded by the bass recitative
"Betrachte, meine Seel" (Consider, my soul), and the bass aria
with chorus, "Eilt, ihr angefocht'nen Seelen" (Make haste, you
beleaguered souls). As we move further inside this design, we find
the two choruses, two different treatments of the same musical idea,
in which the crowd calls for Jesus' crucifixion. These enclose
another pair of musically similar choruses, "Wir haben ein
Gesetz" (We have a law) and "Lässest du diesen los"
(If you let this one go). These in turn occur on either side of the
centerpiece of this grand structure, the chorale "Durch dein
Gefängnis, Gottes Sohn" (Our freedom, Son of God).
The crowd choruses, whose chromatic lines thrust their way through
the texture, are ferocious. The arioso/aria pair, "Betrachte,
meine Seel"/"Erwäge" (Consider, my Soul/Imagine) is Bach's
most expansive interpolation, and "Erwäge" is probably
the most difficult aria he ever wrote. Bach replaced this pair for a
time with another tenor aria, but one imagines that he was finally
glad to experience again those wonderful sonorities of the lute and
the two viole d'amore. There is nothing else quite so fragrant in
either of the Passions, and the rainbow in the aria makes for one of
Bach's most beautiful pictures in music. The Evangelist's recitatives
are so beautifully efficient as vivid text-carriers that one hardly
ever stops to consider them as music, but for a wonderful example of
the inspired strokes in which they abound, take the powerful harmonic
wrench when Pilate points to the crowned and robed Jesus and says to
the crowd, "Sehet, welch ein Mensch!" (Behold the man!).
Nothing challenges a composer of a Passion more than setting the
words that recount the moment of Jesus' death upon the cross. Here
the narration is simple, even as John's account is simple, without,
for example, the "ELI, ELI, LAMA SABACHTHANI?" of Matthew and Mark,
or the conversation with the thieves ("Today thou shalt be with me in
paradise") in Luke. But the commentary is rich. Jesus' last words,
"Es ist vollbracht!" (It is accomplished), are set as a
descending scale. A solo viola da gamba immediately echoes that
musical gesture, very slightly elaborated and in another key, to
begin one of Bach's most expansive and rapturous melodies. Then a
human voice, that of a mezzo-soprano, picks up that same descending
line, once again slightly altered and on yet another set of pitches,
in fact picking up not only the melody but the very words, "Es ist
vollbracht," to begin a deep and wondrous meditation. Suddenly
the music turns to a vigorous allegro as the picture of "victorious
Judah's hero" is evoked. It is central to Lutheran theology that
triumph and victory coincide precisely with the moment of deepest
abasement, death on the cross between two thieves. This "victory
allegro" is torn off in mid-phrase. The alto sings "Es ist
vollbracht" once more, this time at the pitch at which the viola da
gamba had suggested it in the first place, and that instrument brings
the aria to a close, the voice joining it for the end of the last
measure.
Bach never wrote an aria more original and unconventional in
form&endash;consider just the allegro interruption, the
non-conclusion of that allegro, and the daring stroke of ending with
the voice instead of with an instrumental ritornello&endash;nor one
more powerfully apposite in its pacing and immediate in impact. It is
a miracle of unexpected extensions, and the miracle continues, for
seamlessly there grows from this final "Es ist vollbracht" the
next, simple sentence of John's account: "And he bowed his head and
departed." To this, Bach appends comment in another of his
most inspired arias, subtly related to "Es ist vollbracht!" in
that it too features a low voice and a low stringed instrument (bass
for alto, cello for gamba), but very different from it in character
and texture. Most concerted Passions offer a hymn immediately after
the death of Jesus; here, Bach combines both modes of commentary by
setting into this place an aria with a lovely and subtle intertwining
of voice and cello, upon which he superimposes a chorale intoned
piano sempre by the chorus.
Something we do not find in John's account of the crucifixion is
the earthquake of which Matthew, Mark, and Luke speak. Bach the
dramatist evidently hated to do without it, for he interpolates here
the appropriate two verses from Matthew. The tenor arioso "Mein
Herz!" (My heart!) comments on the earthquake and continues its
musical mood; the soprano aria with flutes and oboes da caccia,
"Zerfliesse, mein Herze" (With tears overflowing) in turn
continues the thought of the arioso. In the third version of the
Saint John Passion, the one dated about 1730, Bach omitted
this entire sequence, substituting a now lost orchestral sinfonia,
but restored it for his final version.
We have had rich and expansive commentary, but now Bach moves
swiftly to the close of the work. The last great set piece is a
lullaby, "Ruht wohl" (Rest well), in musical language that
Bach replicated very closely when he came to the corresponding place
in the Saint Matthew Passion, "Wir setzen uns mit Tränen
nieder" (We sit us down in tears). In the Saint Matthew,
the lullaby is the end. In Saint John, Bach adds a wonderful
postscript; indeed, he had trouble deciding which of two wonderful
postscripts to use. In his second and third versions, he used one of
the greatest of his chorale settings in an elaborate style,
corresponding to the "O Mensch bewein'" with which the work
then began. This is the setting of "Christe, du Lamm Gottes"
(Christ, Thou Lamb of God) that we now know as the final movement of
the cantata Du wahrer Gott und Davids Sohn (Thou Very God and
David's Son), BWV 23. Its loss from a work that gets many more
performances than that beautiful and neglected cantata is sad;
however, Bach was right in thinking that something simpler was needed
after the spacious "Ruht wohl," and what he put here, a simple
four-part setting of another hymn, "Ach Herr, lass dein lieb'
Engelein" (May angels bear my soul away), is a miracle in its own
right. And so the Saint John Passion ends with that sense of
expressive immediacy that is one of its most lovable characteristics.
-Michael Steinberg
Contributed by Stevan
Vasiljevic (August 2004)
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