OVERVIEW
Musical masterpieces of the very highest level enable us to understand them in many different ways. One can listen to Bach’s St. John Passion 1) as pure music; or 2) with general knowledge of the story – perhaps even relating to the idea of suffering and eventual victory; or 3) with detailed understanding of the text and its meaning. You can gain sustenance from this astonishing work any way you choose. Since Bach composed his St. John Passion for a specific Good Friday service at a specific German Lutheran church, these detailed program notes about the meaning of the music are provided, as I believe Bach conceived it.
The tradition of Passion readings on Good Friday goes back many, many centuries, and during some periods the story was chanted. Little by little the chanting became more elaborate and different singers took the various character parts. By the time of the early Baroque period, composers such as Heinrich Schütz composed elaborate compositions with soloists, choruses, and instrumental ensembles. There were countless settings of The Passion during the Baroque period, but none could prepare us for the two towering works of Johann Sebastian Bach, the St. John Passion and the St. Matthew Passion. In these works Bach used every skill he had as a composer to illuminate the text. [Dennis Keene, Artistic Director and Conductor, Voices of Ascension Chorus and Orchestra}
CONTEXT
From 1723 until his death Bach was employed as Kantor at the Thomasschule in Leipzig. It was a prestigious but demanding post, requiring him not only to teach at the school - where he and his family with many children lived in a very limited part of the building. As Kantor he also had to play the organ, train the choir and compose weekly music. This he did not only for the Thomaskirche, but also for the Nikolaikirche, for two of the city’s other main Lutheran church, as well as supervising and training the musicians at two others. Despite this onerous workload and frequent disputes with his employers, Bach composed some of his greatest music during this period. His choral compositions alone include such enduring masterpieces as the Mass in B minor, Magnificat, Christmas Oratorio, and the St John and St Matthew Passions. The St John Passion was first performed in Leipzig on Bach’s first Good Friday there: April 7th 1724. It was heard four times during the composer’s lifetime, each time with substantial alterations as he strove ever for perfection.
Prior to the Reformation in Germany, Latin was used in the ancient tradition of reciting the Passion story on Good Friday and in unaccompanied plainchant. A more extended form developed, still unaccompanied, but with the strictly biblical text now in a vernacular translation, enabling ordinary people to understand it who were not educated in Latin. By the close of the 17th century the oratorio-Passion was rapidly taking over, far more elaborate with choir and orchestra, soloists with named roles, and hymns and meditative arias to non-biblical texts interpolated between the sections of the Gospel narrative. This type of dramatic Passion had only recently been adopted by Bach’s conservative predecessor, Johann Kuhna. It was the model for Bach’s greatly expanded St John and St Matthew Passions (the only two extant examples of the five Passion settings that he is believed to have composed). These majestic works are truly remarkable achievements: whilst they amply fulfil their liturgical function as extended ‘sermons in music’, they are at the same time fully integrated music dramas, unprecedented in their scale and power. [St John Passion (1724) by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), Notes by John Bawden, British Choirs on the Net]
Voices of Ascension Chorus and Orchestra — Dennis Keene, Artistic Director and Conductor
In comparison with the immense St Matthew Passion, scored for two choirs and two orchestras and lasting nearly 3½ hours, the earlier St John Passion is much smaller and seems more intimate. It is, however, a considerably more dramatic work than the St Matthew. Although harmonically and rhythmically complex, the St John has a concise, clearly defined structure built around five distinct elements.
STRUCTURE
Bach’s plan in each was to take the text of the Bible passages verbatim and have it sung by a tenor (the “Evangelist” - representing St. John in this case) and by other solo singers taking the parts of various characters in the narrative. Throughout the piece, the action is periodically frozen as Bach inserts some commentary on what has just occurred. These commentaries could be vocal arias or traditional Lutheran hymns tunes (called “chorales”) with special texts written for this piece. The chorus has two alternating roles: one as a “Greek Chorus” commenting on the scenes unfolding, and separately as the “crowd” participating in the events. The St. John Passion also contains two large “bookend” choruses at the beginning and end of the work. It is possible that Bach himself put together the libretto, collecting and adapting various religious poems and texts for the commentaries.
From the first turbulent note of the orchestra, the music propels the narrative toward the inevitable tragic conclusion – and then, redemption. The central story theme of this great work is declared right at the beginning and repeated over and over again, straight through to the end of the work. It is called the “Victory of the Cross” meaning that because Jesus went through his suffering and death, we are given the ultimate victory of everlasting life. In movement after movement, Bach shows us this victory in very clear poetic and musical ways.
The first of these is the Gospel narrative, sung in a series of recitatives with accompaniment provided by a small continuo group of instruments. The central figure is the Evangelist, with roles for Jesus, Pilate, Peter and other, more minor characters. Because of the sparse accompaniments it would be easy to regard these recitatives as simply a narrative device. In fact, with his exceptional sensitivity to every inflexion of the words, Bach’s recitatives are much more than that; they are always profoundly expressive and on occasions full of pathos, as for example when Peter ‘went out and wept bitterly’.
The crowd scenes provide the second element. These choruses, many of which are extraordinarily ferocious, vividly portray the intense emotional atmosphere surrounding Christ’s trial and crucifixion with intricate vocal writing supported by a busy orchestral texture.
Thirdly, there is the almost operatic splendor of the arias, when the narrative pauses and a soloist meditates on the significance of the unfolding events.
The fourth element consists of the chorales. These Lutheran hymn-tunes, melodically simple but richly harmonized by Bach, would have been extremely familiar to the Leipzig congregations. Whether listeners actually joined in on them is unclear, but the chorales certainly provided people with regular moments of re-assurance and reflection, and opportunities for personal connection with the performance.
The final components of Bach’s carefully devised musical architecture are the two monumental choruses at the beginning and end which frame and support the entire musical edifice.
Thus we hear first-hand accounts from the principal individuals and groups at the center of the drama, thoughtful commentary from anonymous bystanders, and the general response of the congregation. These different levels of action and commentary give the work considerable musical variety and an unmistakably theatrical dimension as the perspective shifts from one viewpoint to another.
The congregations at Thomaskirche and Nikolaikirche would have been generally familiar with the various musical styles and genres heard in Bach’s Passions, and they would have expected the instrumental forces to be enlarged for this momentous occasion in the Christian calendar. However, the sheer scale and dramatic intensity of Bach’s music, the virtuosity of his instrumental and vocal writing, and the extraordinary expressiveness of his harmony, must have been of an utterly different order from anything that they might previously have experienced.
NARRATIVE
The work begins with one of Bach’s finest choruses and, indeed, one of the great beginnings in all of music. Immediately we are transported to another world, teaming with profound and complex emotions. The epic scope of the entire work is also indicated right from the beginning. And the theological theme is also stated right up front: “Lord, show us by your Passion that you triumph even in deepest humiliation.” On the words “grössten Niedrigkeit” (“deepest humiliation”) the voices go to the lowest notes, then build up again with the words “verherrlicht worden bist” (“you are glorified”). This imposing opening chorus, ‘Herr, unser Herrscher’ (Lord, our Master), establishes the underlying theme and mood of the work; over a restless orchestral accompaniment the choir sings in praise of Jesus and the universal significance of his Passion.
The story itself begins with Christ and his disciples in the garden of Gethsemane, and moves on to his betrayal by Judas and his arrest. Then comes Jesus’s appearance before the High Priest, and Peter’s denial. Breaks in the narrative occur with the chorales and with moving arias for the alto, soprano and tenor soloists, the texts of which are carefully chosen to reflect on a particular aspect of the Gospel. For example, after the Evangelist has sung the words, ‘Jesus was followed by Simon Peter’, the soprano soloist, speaking for the people, delivers her radiant aria, ‘Ich folge dir gleichfalls’ (I follow you at the same time). The jagged rhythms and nervous energy of the tenor aria ‘Ach, mein Sinn’ (Ah, my soul), which comes after Peter’s third denial, deeply convey the disciple’s shame and anguish. The ensuing chorale, which concludes Part One, makes it clear that Peter’s experience holds an important lesson for all believers.
In Part Two the drama gathers momentum and becomes increasingly intense. Jesus appears before Pilate, who argues at some length with the crowd about the prisoner’s alleged guilt, after which Jesus’s scourging is graphically depicted by the Evangelist in a long, tortured melisma.
In this section of the work the chorus plays a crucial role as the frenzied mob, with vicious chromatic lines driving their way relentlessly through the complex textures. Bach’s varied repetition of choruses with similar musical ideas is carefully calculated to ratchet up the tension. In complete contrast, the solo arias for bass and tenor consist of delicate instrumental textures and images of heavenly grace. Pilate finally gives in to the crowd’s insistent demand that he release Barabbas, and Jesus is led away to be crucified.
The Gospel narrative then tells of Pilate’s inscription of the words ‘Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews’ on the cross; the soldiers’ casting of lots to decide which of them shall have Jesus’s clothes, colorfully illustrated in a chattering chorus; and Jesus’s concern for his mother. Eventually Jesus utters his last words, ‘Es ist vollbracht’ (It is accomplished), set to a descending phrase which is then echoed by the viola da gamba in one of Bach’s most unusual arias. It begins as a despairing lament but this is abruptly interrupted by the triumphant image of ‘the hero from Judah’. The lament returns and the aria ends in a somber mood with the alto soloist repeating Jesus’s last words. Mirroring the opening movement, the work approaches its conclusion with an extended valedictory lullaby, ‘Ruht wohl’ (Rest well), which must surely be one of the most poignant choruses that Bach ever wrote. The closing chorale is a triumphant affirmation of faith and trust in the Resurrection.
The Johannes-Passion is a challenging work makes considerable demands not only on the performers but also upon the listeners. Despite the harrowing events so graphically depicted in Bach’s intensely dramatic music, the Johannes-Passion’s overriding message is one of compassion, hope and ultimate salvation.
[St John Passion (1724) by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), Notes by John Bawden, British Choirs on the Net. Bawden draws attention to the Directory of Choral Music, of interest to anyone programming and sourcing choral music. Details at www.directoryofchoralmusic.co.uk]
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Then the story itself begins as told by the Evangelist (John). It is Maundy Thursday, the Last Supper has been finished, and Jesus has taken his disciples to a garden to sit with him as he prays. But Judas has betrayed him, and soldiers come to take Jesus away. Bach tells this story with what is called secco recitative. This is the singer accompanied only by occasional notes and chords by a bass instrument and a keyboard instrument. This art form reached its summit in this Passion and the St. Matthew. The notes given the soloists and the harmonies chosen indicate the story and the meaning of the story, the significance of the story, in an extraordinary manner unequalled by any other composer. For instance, in the opening recitative, the tone is rather ordinary at first, until, suddenly, the name of Judas is mentioned. Here the chord is the highly-charged harmony of a diminished chord. And the recitative gets quite active as the soldiers arrive with torches and weapons. Then as the Evangelist sets up the first words of Jesus, the recitative melodies become more tender and the harmonies turn to the major.
Jesus asks, rhetorically, “Whom do you seek?” And the soldiers answer with hostility, “Jesus of Nazareth!” Here the chorus plays the part of the crowd of soldiers. Many times they will assume character roles; and at other times will take the part of the faithful congregants, commenting on what has just happened. Again Jesus asks, “Whom do you seek?” and again the soldiers answer with hostility. Then Jesus says, “I have told you I am the one you want. Let my disciples go.” At this point comes the first inserted commentary in the form of a chorale (German Lutheran hymn). “What great love it was for me that you took upon this suffering.”
The disciple Peter acts in a knee-jerk manner, draws his sword and cuts off the ear of the high priest’s servant. But Jesus stands above all this, and tells Peter to put away his sword. Jesus says, “Shall I not take the path that my Father has given me?” Another commentary follows. The people ask to be as faithful to God’s will in their lives as Jesus was.
The next recitative is centered around Jesus being bound and led away. The commentary that follows is the first vocal aria of the piece. “Jesus allowed himself to be bound so that I can be unbound from my sins.” The two oboes depict this being bound up with their plaintive melodies which constantly crisscross each other - being tied-up with sin.
A brief sentence about two of the disciples following Jesus sets up the next - and very special - aria. Bach uses the notes of the recitative as the basis for the beautiful theme of the aria. It is scored for soprano, two flutes and bass line. “I will follow you, my life and light.” The piece was originally sung by a boy soprano, and, for me, I hear this movement as an incredibly sweet, innocent, testimony of faith from someone who is (happily) too young to know the difficulties and suffering that come with following in Christ’s footsteps. When the young singer says, “Push me along when I hesitate,” Bach gives us slurred pairs of upwardly-moving notes, depicting the nudging along.
Now the action becomes more vivid, as we return to the high priest’s court. It is most interesting to notice the mood changes in the character of Jesus. At first his music is calm and in F Major. But, as he gets worked up, all the harmonies change, and he sings in a higher and more intense register. Finally, as he asks “If I spoke no wrong, why did you strike me?” The music is filled with such compassion (in E Major) that Bach tells us that Jesus has already forgiven the officer. The following chorale continues in this compassionate mode, by Bach’s choice of the beautiful hymn melody and his extraordinary, heart-felt harmonization. (It should be mentioned that the tradition of composers harmonizing traditional Lutheran hymn tunes reached its absolute summit in the hands of Bach. And the magnificent collection of chorales in The St. John Passion form the true backbone of the piece, each one communicating some thought, some reflection, in a profound and clearly expressive manner.) This chorale asks who it was that struck you, Jesus? The second stanza answers, “I and my sins were the cause.”
Then, the crowd says to Peter, “Aren’t you one of the disciples of that man on trial?” Their short, quick contrapuntal notes are cold, callous. Peter keeps? denying he has anything to do with Jesus. When the cock crows, Peter realizes what he has done and weeps bitterly. The tenor’s recitative on the words “wept bitterly” (“weinete bitterlich”) is one of the greatest examples of recitative composition in all of music. It is a chromatic sigh of anguish. The following aria is Peter’s song of remorse and anguish. It is the most blatantly passionate aria in the piece, befitting the disciple who always behaved so emotionally.
The aria doesn’t conclude. It just stops, and leads directly to the closing chorale of Par??t I - a thoroughly astounding chorale. The first eight measures deal with Peter - how he took one look into Jesus’ eyes and realized what he had done. The other eight measures are a plea from the faithful, “Jesus, look at me when I sin!” Bach uses every technique in the book to express very complex emotions. The first two measures start in the minor, but the second two evolve into a resolution of sorts in A Major. Then the harmonies sound completely troubled as Peter looks into Jesus’ eyes and weeps. Even the cadence on “bitterly weeps” is worthy of mention, with its sad, expressive moving parts, and the fact that this phrase - and the first half of the chorale - ends on a dominant seventh chord in an inverted position (in layman’s terms: totally unresolved.) Now, as the chorale talks about the lives of the faithful congregation, it picks up with considerable strength and conviction (again, through Bach’s remarkable use of harmony and voice-leading), finally ending with peace and faith.
Bach begins Part II directly with a short, rough chorale. In less than 60 seconds Bach communicates three things: 1) what happened in Part I (Jesus was seized and taken away); 2) this was done for us (a reminder of the theological theme of the work); and 3) what is coming next (falsely accused, mocked, spat upon.) Bach expresses the words “falsely accused” with unexpected, deviating harmonies.
The action moves along quickly now. Jesus is taken to the high priest Caiphas and then to Pontius Pilate. Pilate asks the crowd what one would think would be a pro-forma question, “What charge do you bring against this man?” The crowd practically explodes, “We wouldn’t have brought him here if he weren’t a criminal!” This is the first of many highly dramatic, emotionally-charged choruses that give The St. John Passion its particular character. Here Bach uses sharp repeated notes, wild chromaticism, and an intensity which builds up and up, recedes temporarily, then builds up again. A brief recitative is followed by another highly-charged chorus.
In the next recitative, Pilate asks Jesus “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus says his kingdom is not of this world; if it were, his servants would fight. But his kingdom is not of this world. As the text talks about fighting, Bach animates the notes. But, interestingly, the animation is not really dramatic, and it is in major keys: because Jesus, of course, would never really wage a battle. As he sings the final “aber nun ist mein Reich nicht von dannen” (my kingdom is not here) Bach clearly portrays Jesus thinking about his real kingdom, the one in heaven. In the commentary chorale which follows, the faithful try to express that, as human, earthly beings, we cannot possibly conceive of the mercy of this heavenly king. The chorale has almost continuous eighth notes in the bass line. Does this perhaps represent the earth-bound existence of human beings?
Pilate then tells the crowd he will release one of the two prisoners, Jesus or Barabbas, and asks them, “which one?” They cry out, “Not this one (Jesus) but Barabbas!” Pilate then has Jesus taken away and whipped. The word “geisselte” (whipped) provides Bach with another opportunity for picture-painting, which he seizes with enormous effect.
One might expect a bold, dramatic commentary to follow here, or at least a lament, as the Gospel text talks of Jesus’ whipping. But remember the theme of this St. John Passion: “The Victory of the Cross.” What follows is instead one of the most luminous, tender, poetic arias Bach ever composed. It is scored for a very special collection of forces: bass soloist, accompanied by two viola d’amores (a high, sweet-toned member of the Baroque viol family), lute, organ, cello and bass. In this magnificent aria, the text expresses the thought that, out of Jesus’ suffering comes the highest good. Out of the thorns that prick him comes a beautiful blossom; out of his wounds comes sweet fruit. The beautiful sound world of this arioso, the extraordinarily expressive melodies and subtle, profoundly moving harmonies, all contribute to one of the truly magnificent moments of the Passion. A full-length tenor aria continues with exactly the same theological concept, again with beautiful and evocative poetry.
The soldiers place a crown of thorns and purple cloak on Jesus. They mock him in a chorus, “Hail, King of the Jews!” The music is in a major key and is rather pretty, but Bach’s swirling 16th notes in the flutes and oboes adds an uneasy, mocking undercurrent. Notice in the next recitative the spot where the Evangelist talks of Jesus wearing the crown of thorns and purple cloak. Bach’s setting depicts the Evangelist’s deep pathos as if he were feeling “How could they treat the Son of God this way?”
As the high priests and officers scream “Crucify him!” we have another highly-charged, brutal chorus, fast and dissonant. The next chorus depicts the high priests slavishly following the letter of the law. So Bach composed music that also slavishly follows the letter of the law in musical composition. Although periodically it indicates the seriousness of the situation, this four-part choral fugue sounds as if a student following all the rules had written it. It is square and done correctly by formula.
Pilate starts to get anxious about who this Jesus fellow really is. The harmonies sound unsure. But, as this recitative comes to a conclusion, it remarkably ends in a sweet E Major key. It prepares us for the most theologically central chorale of the entire work. “From your imprisonment comes our freedom.” The Victory of the Cross. To indicate the centrality of this chorale, Bach constructs the movements before and after it in a mirror image. Immediately before and after the chorale are two choruses with the same melodic material (“Wir haben ein Gesetz” and “Lässest diesen los”). On either side of those choruses are two “Crucify him” choruses. On either side of those are yet two more choruses with the same melodies (“Sei gegrüsset” and “Schiebe nicht”). An interesting detail along the way: in the libretto #23g, the Evangelist sings “he handed over Jesus to be crucified.” On the word “crucified” Bach composed a very expressive melody for the Evangelist, properly depicting the word. But then he follows that harmonically charged phrase with a cadence in D Major. This major chord sounds totally out of place. This is yet another depiction by Bach of The Victory of the Cross.
A marvelously vivid bass aria follows in G Minor, “Hurry to Golgotha!” The chorus asks, “Where?” When the text says, “You will be revived there,” the music goes into E-flat Major.
After the “Schriebe nicht” chorus comes the chorale “In meine Herzen.” This personal, compassionate piece serves as a transition from all the action to the final moments of Jesus’ life. Then comes a unique moment in the work. As the soldiers take Jesus’ coat, they decide to cast lots for it. Bach depicts this gambling with a most unexpected chorus. It is full of nimble running notes, quick repeated eights, syncopations and, in general, a rather playful atmosphere. Other than expressing the rolling of dice or other form of gambling, why is this movement here? Perhaps Bach is expressing the contrast between most of the characters in the Passion – those who know the significance of the Crucifixion - and those who are so engrossed in the trivialities of their daily lives that they cannot begin to grasp the significance of what is going on around them. The playful scene reveals the soldiers not at all caught up in the emotion of the event, living simply for the hope of gambling winnings of trinkets.
We are near the end. The following recitative begins by finishing the story of the coat. Then it becomes extremely poignant as Jesus’ mother and the disciple “whom Jesus loved” (St. John) gather beneath Jesus on the Cross. Jesus says to Mary, “Mother, this (John) is (now) your son.” And to John, “There is now your mother.” The chorale which follows is the same chorale tune as the final movement of Part I. And here, as was the case before, the first half is a commentary on what just happened, and the second half encourages all of us to act the way Jesus did. But the harmonizations of the melody are quite different. We are not in the same world now. And Bach expresses this with a more muted setting.
Jesus utters his final words in the next recitative: “Es ist vollbracht!” It is accomplished. One of the most famous arias follows. The thinner, poignant tones of the viola da gamba (a Baroque predecessor of the cello) is used, and the alto sighs a lament from deep within. And yet, all of a sudden, coming from nowhere, the aria suddenly breaks forth vigorously in D Major “The Hero of Judah triumphs in power!” The alto proclaims the ultimate victory. But, just as quickly as this section began, it is over, as the alto nonetheless realizes that Jesus’ time is finished.
A hushed recitative announces Jesus’ death. Bach does not give a lament here, but one of the most radiant pieces he ever composed. There are two worlds going on /here: 1) the bass soloist and cellist ask the question, “Jesus, now that all is fulfilled, am I made free from death?” Jesus answers silently, with his head down, “Yes!” The melodies here are profoundly beautiful; and with its slow, gentle lilt, the music is spiritually happy. 2) The chorus exists simultaneously and sings from afar the familiar chorale (the same as heard at the end of Part I and earlier in Part II - this time in a low key with luminous, peaceful harmonies). They sing, “Jesus, you were dead and now live eternally. Let me follow your path.”
A dramatic recitative follows as the veil of the temple is torn and the earth quakes. The quivering notes in the bass instruments here become the throbbing sound of a heart in the next tenor arioso. The rending of the veil, the rocks splitting, the earthquakes, and the graves opening up are all vividly depicted in the orchestra. But the arioso ends tenderly and unresolved as the tenor asks, “My heart, what will you now do?” The following soprano aria answers, “Dissolve, my heart, in floods of tears, because Jesus is dead.” Only four instruments accompany the soprano, flute, English horn, bassoon, and organ. The sound world perfectly suits the profound sadness of the singer. And the role of the singer is that of a real human being, someone present at the Crucifixion who knew and loved Jesus. Three times the aria just stops, as if she realizes that he is actually dead. And in the moment before one of those cessations, Bach writes trills on two long held notes. These trills, however, are not usually performed like normal Baroque trills, but like an early Baroque Monteverdi trill: repeated notes on the same pitch, like a sound of sobbing.
The next recitative ties up many loose ends, each with a different emotional expression. The firm chorale “O hilf, Christ” provides a strong contrast before the final recitative. Here Bach gives the tenor some of his lowest notes as we journey to the grave. These notes sound particularly solemn in the voice of a “Bach tenor” whose voice naturally resides in higher pitches. Bach also knew that, after two hours of singing the recitatives, often in very high passages, the tenor’s lowest register would be even weaker, sounding more frail than usual. The recitative ends on the cello’s and organ’s lowest notes, a low C.
Now is the final chorus, one of the most beautiful Bach composed. It is the other large bookend, balancing the opening chorus, bringing this epic story to a close. “Rest well,” the people say. And the movement concludes solemnly in C Minor. But the work does not end here! Bach adds a final chorale, a final prayer from the faithful people: “Lord, when I die, send your angels to take me to Abraham’s bosom where there is no pain. Then, at the last day, wake me from sleep so that I may see you. I glorify you eternally!” The chorale starts so softly and tenderly, and, little by little, grows into one of the most inspiring moments in Western Music.
—Dennis Keene, Artistic Director and Conductor, Voices of Ascension Chorus and Orchestra
What do we do about Bach’s St John Passion? —Tafelmusik, February 27, 2023.
by Robert Harris
Bach’s Passion//Pilate’s wheedling and entreaties, his vain attempts to save Jesus. The crowd is having none of it. “Crucify him,” they scream, again and again and again. Is there a human being who can hear the murderous hysteria of this scene, so agonizingly and thrillingly rendered by Bach into music, without shuddering in fear? Not me. I break into tears every time I hear that horrible “kreuzige ihn,” “crucify him,” flash across the dark musical sky of the Passion. It is one of the most horrifying moments in all of art, whether you’re a Christian or a Muslim, or an atheist, or an agnostic. It doesn’t make any difference.
But I am a Jew. And the problem of the Gospel of John is that it’s not just “the crowd,” or “the people” that John identifies as full of that murderous intent. It’s ”the Jews”: “die Jüden” in the Lutheran German text. That’s just what it says; there’s no escaping it. In the Middle Ages, when the Gospel of St John was read from pulpits on Good Friday, synagogues and Jewish businesses would routinely be attacked and vandalized after the service.
So what, as a Jew, am I supposed to do about the St John Passion? What are any of us supposed to do? So what, as a Jew, am I supposed to do about the St John Passion? What are any of us supposed to do? We can’t avoid the truth of the words and the music. This is the proof text of the ancient libel that “the Jews killed Christ.” Forget the fact that the entire Passion, in every chorale and aria, actually spells out a completely different theological vision, the Lutheran premise that it is the sinfulness of all of us, of all humankind, and specifically of all Christians, that made the death of Jesus necessary. And yes, we can educate ourselves about the schism between the nascent Christians of the first century CE and the traditional Jewish authorities that is the true background and explanation of John’s words. None of that matters, really. None of that makes the horrible evil of that “kreuzige ihn” screamed into our ears by “die Jüden” any less powerful. Whether intended by John or not, whether intended by Bach or not, the Passion is enclosed in an anti-Semitic embrace from which it cannot escape.
So what do we do? Do we ignore this, or try to look past it? Do we excuse it? Do we “cancel” it, refuse to present it? As a Jew, as a lover of art, as a human being, I say no. I say we sit with the pain of the reality of the St John, absorb it, reflect upon it, try to redeem it. The reason the St John Passion deserves to be performed still, 300 years after its composition, and in a world wildly different from its original context, is that the power of Bach’s musical imagination pierces so deeply into the common nature of the human experience, that to hear it—all of it—is a form of enlightenment and revelation. With the sublime, the demonic, the hateful, the glorious, all equally revealed to us.
Do we “cancel” it, refuse to present it? As a Jew, as a lover of art, as a human being, I say no.
I often try to imagine Bach conceiving of those choruses of Jews in Part 2 of the St John Passion. Try to imagine what went through his mind as he set pen to paper. And again and again, I find myself thinking that nothing went through his mind: that his musical instincts simply reacted to the scenes his imagination held up to him. That he had the true artist’s instinct not to hold back, to lean into them, to use the modern parlance, to create in the starkest and most extravagant forms he knew the musical truth of the world he was rendering. Yes, he created uneasiness in us as he did. Perhaps in himself as well. Uneasiness and disturbance that we need to accept, and endure. Sit with and try to overcome. The true redemptive nature of the St John Passion.
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Robert Harris is a writer and broadcaster on music in all its forms. He is the former classical music critic of The Globe and Mail and the author of the Stratford Lectures and Song of a Nation: The Untold Story of O Canada.
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Bach Scholar Michael Marissen Discusses Anti-Semitic Undertones in Composer's Work —Swarthmore College News
April 30th, 2013
J.S. Bach's St. Matthew Passion has always gotten more respect than his other telling of the crucifixion story - the St. John Passion. The St. Matthew, with its six-part choir and double orchestra, is grander, about 45 minutes longer, and generally more imposing. But don't underestimate the St. John.
The St. John has been a somewhat harder sell in an era sensitive to ethnic characterizations, and has periodically stirred heated debate. The controversy flared up in 1995 at Swarthmore College outside Philadelphia, where several members of the college choir refused to perform the work because they perceived portions of the text as anti-Semitic. The performance made national headlines (though it was not cancelled) and it prompted scholars to explore how Bach handled the biblical verses in text and music.
Among those scholars was Michael Marissen, a noted Bach expert who teaches at Swarthmore, and who in 1996 published Lutheranism, Anti-Judaism, and Bach's St. John Passion. "It's well known that there's some challenging language in the Gospel of John," he said in an interview at WQXR. "There's the passion story itself which keeps referring specifically to the enemies of Jesus as 'the Jews, the Jews, the Jews,' which the other canonical gospels don't." Indeed, the word "Jews" appears about 70 times in the Gospel of St. John and appears only once or twice in the other gospels.
"Most of the text of the St. John Passion is Biblical text taken right from John: 18 or 19," said Marissen. Then, after every two or three verses, the story breaks off and a soloist or the choir sings verses from 16th, 17th, or 18th century sources which comment on that part of the story.
Although Bach was not exactly at liberty to substantially change the wording of the biblical text, he could determine what to emphasize. Some have questioned whether the composer's setting of the choruses is just a little too vivid. But Marissen argues that Bach was relatively restrained when compared with Handel or Telemann in their own passion settings. "Somewhat surprisingly, Bach's St. John Passion does not take that tack," said Marissen. "It leaves the Jews alone and harps on how sinful the Lutherans are and how they're to blame for the death of Jesus."
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Michael Marissen is the Daniel Underhill Professor of Music at Swarthmore College and the author of Lutheranism, Anti-Judaism, and Bach's St. John Passion. He was featured in Bach 360°, a 10-day festival last month that explored how J.S. Bach resonates with contemporary audiences.
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Bach’s “Saint John Passion” in Context The Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra (SPCO) Blog, October 31, 2018
When Bach assumed his new post as Thomaskantor in Leipzig, he assured the church that he would not write in an excessively operatic vein, and yet, for his first Good Friday Vespers service in Leipzig in 1724, he unveiled this Saint John Passion, full of drama and vivid narrative force. How operatic is Bach’s Saint John Passion?
Whether or not we think of it as opera, or whether Bach was thinking of opera, it is up to us the performers to bring out the true nature of the work, and there is no doubt that Bach wanted the listeners to feel the Passion story in a truly visceral way. Think of the Leipzig congregation who hadn’t heard any polyphonic music during almost the whole of Lent, and then suddenly being thrust into the story of Jesus’ crucifixion with this churning opening chorus full of searing dissonances in the woodwind parts, and impassioned cries from the chorus. This piece calls for a sizeable chorus to intervene and interject, often portraying a bloodthirsty mob, and we can’t shy away from that aspect of the score.
That means the chorus needs to fully grasp which character they represent each time they sing. For instance, in the angry turba choruses, they play a very different role than when singing chorales or representing the priests. There really are about five different characters that the chorus plays, which is similar to the way opera choruses (and also those in musical theater) exist. At no point is there a Greek chorus-like disassociation from the ongoing narrative.
Much has been written about Bach’s portrayal of the Jews in the Saint John Passion, and criticism has been leveled against the work as being overtly anti-Semitic. How do we grapple with that?
John Eliot Gardiner writes very thoughtfully about this topic, reminding us that the anti-Semitic passages come from the Gospel of John, and ought not be laid at Bach’s feet. As a dramatic narrative, Bach uses the mob as the most important dramatic device of the work, especially when paired with the collective grief found in the chorales that surround these angry scenes. Gardiner points out that having the chorus play both the angry mob and the community of the faithful shows the personal pain of realizing that the persecutors of Jesus whom we detest, are us.
It is undeniable that Jews are portrayed in a negative light, both in terms of the biblical text which comes directly from the Gospel of John, but also in how Bach portrays the vehemence and ferocity of the Jews’ call for Jesus’ crucifixion in musical terms. But there are also significant choices that Bach made in assembling the nonbiblical text that support this view that Bach’s overriding message is not about the Jews as villains, but that all humans are sinners, and we all therefore bear responsibility for Christ’s death. The Bach scholar, Michael Marissen, points to Chorale 15 which poses a question, “Who was it, Lord, who struck thee,” and then answers, “I, I and my offenses, in number like the grains of sand found by the sea,” as one of the clearest examples of this.
You are both arguing for the transformational potential of Bach’s music, in spite of the anti-Semitic overtones. Why is it important to perform this work for modern audiences?
We live in a secular age, and we can’t expect listeners today, especially a non-German speaking audience to have the same kind of experience as Bach’s listeners. But there is something utterly radical and wonderful in this modern age for thousands of people, over the course of our three performances of this work, to shut off the immediacy of their devices, and immerse themselves in Bach’s bottomless music, share in this communal experience, and, we hope, feel the Passion story in a visceral way, as Bach intended.
Further Reading:
Gardiner, John Eliot. Bach: Music in the Castle of Heaven. Alfred A. Knopf (New York), 2013, pp. 361-362.
Marissen, Michael. Lutheranism, Anti-Judaism, and Bach’s “St. John Passion.” Oxford University Press (Oxford), 19
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Bach’s ‘St. John Passion’ Has More Humanity Than Anti-Semitism
by James R. Oestreich, NY Times, April 14, 2017
The “St. Matthew Passion” - first performed in Leipzig, Germany, in 1727, three years after the “St. John” - is a bigger, more complex work, and harder to present, with its multiple choruses and orchestras. Yet, it would seem an easier sell, being more majestic and ideologically trouble free.
Almost inevitably these days, the “St. John” courts controversy, with its bald use of the Gospel of John’s words, harping on “the Jews” as the prime instigators of Jesus’ death. All too vividly, it depicts Jesus facing his accusers, and the Roman prefect Pilate becomes an almost sympathetic figure, parrying with “the high priests and servants,” who shout, “Crucify, crucify!” to a frenzied orchestral backdrop, blood lust almost palpable in the sneering harmonies.
Even for those of us who treasure it, the “St. John,” as Alex Ross wrote recently in The New Yorker, “remains a little frightening.” The American choral master Robert Shaw, a secular humanist who loved the “St. John” ardently and performed it throughout his career, summarized the plight of Bachians in 1995: “Many of us never will cease to be embarrassed by its occasional vehement-to-vicious racial attribution regarding the Crucifixion of Jesus. There can be no doubt that its traditional text has added to the waves of anti-Semitism for generations and centuries since its composition.”
As the musicologist Michael Marissen has seconded, the “St. John” problem has become ever more troubling in the decades since World War II and the Holocaust. With the horrible potential latent in anti-Semitism ever more apparent, any performance or hearing of this work must be cause for sober reflection, not mere mindless pleasure.
Is the Passion’s savage depiction of the Jews simply the work of a master storyteller? It is surely that, but not simply that. Bach’s own attitude becomes clearer in his music and in the poetry of the choruses and arias with which he surrounds John’s narrative.
An early chorale, for example, “Wer hat dich so geschlagen,” asks of the wounded Jesus, “Who has struck you so?” The second verse answers, “Ich, ich und meine Sünden”: “I” - we all, that is Protestant, Catholic and Jew alike -“I and my sins.”
As Mr. Marissen notes in “Bach & God” (2016), “Bach moves the focus away from the perfidy of ‘the Jews’ and onto the sins of Christian believers.” And the work as a whole moves in an epic arc from turmoil to profound fellow-feeling and consolation, from inhumanity for the sake of effect, as it were, to a humanity deeply felt and registered.
Suggested Reading:
Robertson, T. M. (2024). Representation of the Jewish People in Bach’s St. John Passion and other Johannine Passion Oratorios: An Alternative Translation. UCLA. ProQuest ID: Robertson_ucla_0031D_23150. Merritt ID: ark:/13030/m5dc98n4. Retrieved from https://escholarship.org/uc/item/1dr1k4gk
Exploring Core Narratives: Communal Meanings in the St. John Passion
By Bob Gluck, Berkshire Bach Society Symposium on the St. John Passion, June 3, 1995
Religious antisemitism began as anti-Jewish polemic in the era coinciding with the creation of the St. John Gospel. Clearly, this period was a profoundly tense moment in time, as is any point of separation between groups. Every new group sees its ideology as a new paradigm. The founders expect the older group to actively embrace the new ideas and to cease to exist. Paul surely expected the Jews to convert, as he himself did, but he underestimated the power of group identity and the profound nature of the change in world view this would have required.
Contrast this with John, who uses the word "Jew" almost like a generic term of opprobrium to refer to anyone who refuses to accept Jesus as messiah. The text does seem to show less ignorance about the Jewish legal entity, the Sanhedrin, than do the previous Gospels. In St. John, the Jewish leadership protests that they hold no power to inflict capital punishment. This is historically correct.
The central dramatic focus of the St. John Gospel, the final of the four synoptics, is the conflict between Jesus and the Jews: the plotting of the Jews against Jesus and the final drama. As I have noted, this is so very different than the St. Matthew Passion. In the St. John, Bach narrows the focus even further, to the final drama bringing the issue into even greater relief. Thus, the negativity of the Jews is highlighted, especially their stubbornness, vindictiveness, and they unwillingness to either see the light or stand up to Pilate on behalf of Jesus, and we might suppose, anyone but themselves. The rule of the mob is symbolized in one word: "Jew."
Removal of the words "Jew" and "High Priest" from the symbolic structure of the St. John cannot excise the legacy perpetuated by the presence of these words in the piece for more than 250 years. Bach's symbolism, once again, draws upon an ancient demonization of the Jews that is forgotten only at great risk. On one hand, this shadow needs to be erased. On the other hand, we must find ways to memorialize the original text and all that it represents. It is my contention that these issues can be effectively addressed in program notes and in symposia such as this.
Research notes assembled by Ariane van Buren