Cantata BWV 20 - Discussions

Cantata BWV 20
O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort [I]
Discussions

Discussions in the Week of June 2, 2002

Aryeh Oron wrote (June 2, 2002):
Introduction

The subject of this week’s discussion (June 2, 2002), according to Francis Browne’s suggested list, is the Chorale Cantata for the 1^st Sunday after Trinity BWV 20 ‘O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort’ (O eternity, O word of thunder). Bach composed this cantata from all verses of Johann Rist’s hymn bearing the same title, using the original stanzas for some movements or a paraphrase for others, written, perhaps, by Picander. In 1732 Bach produced another cantata with the same title, BWV 60, which has already been discussed in the BCML. See: Cantata BWV 60 - Discussions
This first setting is a long cantata (27 to 33 minutes) of two parts. It was first performed in 1724 and revised in 1735.

The details of the recordings of this cantata can be found in the following page of the Bach Cantatas Website: Cantata BWV 20 - Recordings
Four recordings of this cantata come from 3 complete cantata cycles (Rilling [1], Harnoncourt [2], & Leusink [4]) and one that is still under its way (Koopman). The fifth is a relatively new recording, from Emmanuel Music [6], which might mark the beginning of a new cantata cycle, the first American one. Emmanuel Music performs the Bach Cantatas regularly and they have a beautiful Website. See: http://www.emmanuelmusic.org
The site includes commentary by Emmanuel Music’s musical director Craig Smith and English translations of many cantatas. Alas, although BWV 20 has already been recorded, the site does not include the commentary to this cantata.

I hope to see many of you participating in the discussion.

Francis Browne wrote (June 7, 2002):
'Ah, this is really no joke!

'A splendid, if grim, cantata' is the conclusion that W.G. Whittaker reaches at the end of his discussion of this cantata, and I am very inclined to agree with both adjectives

The text is based on a shortened version of a famous chorale by Johann Rist (1642) that, according to Dürr, was generally included in hymn books of Bach's time. Much of the chorale is taken over directly and elsewhere only minor changes are made to adapt the text to the form of the cantata. Bach chose this text as the basis for the opening work of his second cycle of cantatas and produced a large scale composition in two parts.

All this suggests that Bach found the text acceptable, even straightforward, giving expression to an essential if sombre part of the faith that I have no doubt he sincerely held. But for most of us today, I suspect, the text reads strangely, even for those who are Christians. As Whittaker says of the bass recitative (movement 6) the text 'exploits with theological grimness the terrors of hell.' There is a dwelling upon the possibility of an eternity of torture in a way that rarely forms part of the presentation of Christianity today. It reminded me of the hellfire sermon in James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.

Of course it is possible to ignore the text and just listen to the music. But this is to take Bach's music with less than the seriousness it deserves. Rather than dismiss such a text with horror or indifference it seems better to make an effort of the imagination to understand what is being said by the words, and still more by the words and music. The words and imagery may not be those that would be used today but both Rist and Bach are concerned with something that is part of our human experience as much as theirs: despair and hope, the supreme importance of moral choices, our mortality, our ultimate destiny. Depending on our own beliefs and education we may express these things in different terms, but they arise from human experience that was the same in Leipzig in 1724 as is in the twenty first century, and so Bach's cantata remains accessible to us and, I would argue, most worthwhile.

I have listened only to Leusink's recording [4] - not an ideal performance but not so inadequate that the grandeur of Bach's achievement is obscured.

The opening movement has the form of a French overture, as with BWV 194 last week. Bach must have felt this was appropriate for beginnings, as he does the same for Advent (BWV 61) and the inauguration of a town council (BWV 119). Leusink [4] conveys the solemn mood of the opening well and the choir - perhaps sombred by the theme of the cantata - here and elsewhere sing in a more disciplined way than often elsewhere. The contrasting Vivace section - according to Dürr the quickening of tempo illustrates the text ‘O Ewigkeit, Zeit ohne Zeit’ - is effective. But the return to the Grave is disappointing. According to Whittaker with the resumption of the Grave: 'one of the most remarkable passages in all the cantatas comes with arresting suddenness.’Mein ganz erschrockenes Herz’ is heralded by strong dissonances tossed in short fragments from oboes to strings, and when the canto is solemnly intoned the lower voices quiver on broken phrases to the word erschrockenes, an extraordinary transmutation of previous material. It is one of those strokes of genius that produce a feeling of awe'. But not with this recording. I would be interested to know from other members how other performances fare.

In the following tenor recitative and aria Knut Schoch is barely adequate and lacks the range of expression necessary. A pity, particularly in the case of the aria which is one of those movements that reveal their beauty gradually on repeated hearing. As Whittaker points out, the thematic material is exceedingly varied and expressive, and the pleading figure often heard in violin I and continuo is particularly moving.

The bass recitative (movement 4) is both ingenious and harrowing in its efforts to bring home to the listener the concept of eternal punishment. It is followed by a bass aria that on first hearing struck me as both delightful and incongruous. After bringing home to us the awfulness of everlasting pain the bass assures us that God is just in his works as the triple oboes play lovely tripping tunes above a staccato accompaniment. With repeated hearing incongruity fades and delight remains. In his book on the Church Cantatas Alec Robertson comments, 'This needed to be said, with the conviction of an almost sprightly aria in the major key'. Bach's judgement is true and profound: the work needs this counterpoise, and the beauty of the music gives a necessary reassurance. But even within the delight of this music, there is a warning reiterated impressively in the middle section. Bas Ramselaar, always one of the better singers in this cycle, sings pleasingly here.

The short, sombre alto aria is performed adequately by Buwalda - though I am glad his services were not called on for longer- and the orchestra plays the concluding coda for strings very well and with moving effect

The chorale that concludes the first part of the cantata seems in no way exceptional - except that here I cannot escape from a sense of incongruity between the familiar, expected, reassuring music of the chorale and the content of the text:
Es wird sie plagen Kält und Hitz,
cold and heat will torment them,
Angst, Hunger, Schrecken, Feu'r und Blitz
anguish, hunger, terror, fire and lightning,
Und sie doch nicht verzehren.
and yet not consume them.

Before the second part of the cantata the congregation would have listened to a long sermon possibly on the same subject as the cantata. As Whittaker (p485) again comments: 'the call to the lost sheep to awaken and throw off the sleep of sin, which is the subject of magnificent trumpet aria for bass, must have been electrifying'. Indeed the aria is magnificent and electrifying - but not quite in Leusink's version [4]. Whittaker adds a little later: 'A powerful voice of great range (low G to high E), fine vocal technique and dramatic ability are needed to do justice to the leaping arpeggi, the glorious runs on 'schallt' and the grim passage on 'Gerichte'. To spell out such desiderata is to make clear how Ramselaar falls short of what is necessary in this particular aria.

Similar remarks might be made of the performance of the alto/tenor duet - Schoch and Buwalda, alas are not a dream team - and the concluding chorale presents me with the same sense of incongruity between text and music as the first chorale.

I have been led to dwell on some of the shortcomings of Leusink's performance [4], but it is the only performance I have heard and it has given me much pleasure and a good idea of Bach's achievement in this 'splendid, if grim, cantata'. - But I hope Suzuki gets round to recording BWV 20 [7] some time before I may have direct experience of ‘Ewigkeit’.

Dick Wursten wrote (June 7, 2002):
BWV 20 - Johann Rist

For the record:
The poet of this threatening (better: warning) choral, which underlies this cantata, Johann Rist (1607-1667), was a very civilized and erudite man, son of a Lutheran priest. He studied poetry, pharmacy, Jura and theology (finished his studies in Leiden and Utrecht). According to my handbook (Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart) he was more interested in aesthetics than in confessional questions.

Remarkable about him is that he was able to attract other people to cooperate with him and so he lies at the root of many beautiful melodic lines and compositions (around his own texts) by f.i. Johann Schop, Thomas Selle and Johann Heinrich Scheidemann). His vicarage (he was pastor in Wedel a.d. Elbe near Hamburg) became a centre of culture, spiritual life and natural science (His garden with medicinal herbs and flowers was worldfamous).

From his appr. 700 church-songs nowadays only a few are sung ('O ewigkeit du Donnerwort' is still in my German hymn book). Some of the melodies composed for his songs got a second life (and survived, because as a poet he was more appreciated in his days than in ours to use an understatement) because they were also used for other hymns:
One example: the melody of 'jesu joy of man's desiring' was originally composed for a Rist-song: Werde munter mein Gemüte (by Johann Schop, the very same as the creator of the impressive melody of 'O Ewigkeit du Donnerwort'.)

Finally: The Evg. Kirchengesangbuch gives 5 verses of O Ewigkeit du Donnerwort as hymn 324 and a 'positive parody' (counterbalance) as hymn 325... not from our century but already from the same period as the original by Kaspar Heunisch (1620-1690)

O Ewigkeit, du Freudenwort, (Eternity, word of joy)
das mich erquicket fort und fort, (that quickens me)
o Anfang sonder Ende ! (beginning without end)
O Ewigkeit, Freud ohne Leid, (joy without suffering)
ich Weiss vor Herzensfröhlichkeit (In the joy of my heart)
gar nicht mehr vom Elende, (I forgot all my misery)
weil mir versüsst die Ewigkeit (for Eternity sweetens)
was uns betrübet in der Zeit. (what caused bitter sorrow in Time)

My theory: O Ewigkeit de Donnerwort is the song for the RICH MAN from the parable (and his brothers still on earth, living the same life). 'O Ewigkeit du Freudenwort' is the song for the POOR LAZARUS who lies at the gate of the rich man: miserere !

Aryeh Oron wrote (June 8, 2002):
Background

The exemplary background below, written by Craig Smith, music director of Emanuel Music, is taken completely from the linear notes to their recording of this cantata for Koch International label [6]. After this background and Francis Browne’s notes in his message, I do not feel any necessity to add something of my own.

The second Leipzig cantata cycle is dominated by the use of chorales. Each cantata begins with a fantasia on an appropriate chorale. In BWV 20, the first cantata in this cycle, the melody, O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort, appears in the opening chorus as well as in the four-part chorale harmonizations that end both sections of the cantata. In addition, interior verses are rewritten to provide the texts for the recitatives, arias and duet that complete the cantata. While the words of the chorale are the source for all of the text, the music for these movements is not based upon the chorale tune.

The opening chorus is one of the most striking things in all of Bach's music. He chooses the form of French Overture to portray the endless march of time. The French Overture was traditionally the entrance music of the King, particularly Louis XIV, into the opera. Here the King is replaced by the sword of eternity. The musical structure - slow, pompous dotted rhythms followed by fast imitative music and ending with a repetition of the opening music - is skillfully fitted to the structure of the chorale text. The soprano voices sing the tune in long notes over the elaboration of the other voices as well as the orchestra. The orchestration is particularly pointed with the choir of three oboes providing a snarling backdrop to the string texture. Most French Overtures, even the ones by Each, limit their harmonic palate. They make their point through rhythmic energy and the counterpoint is inevitable in the middle section. While this movement has wonderful rhythmic energy, it also makes its point with moments of harrowing chromaticism appropriate to the hard-bitten text. There are marvelous details here. At the return of the opening music, the texture fragments almost to a breaking point in illustration of the quaking heart. The harmony itself becomes gluey and stuck at the mention of the tongue sticking to the roof of the mouth.

This stupendous chorus is just the beginning of a harrowing journey. The tenor recitative continues the ideas of the opening chorus. There is a little staccato continuo figure under the word ‘ewig’ that is a new idea, which will become important by the end of the cantata. The tenor aria is as personal and subjective as the opening chorus is stonily objective. Here sustained string chords are underpinned by snake-like winding lines in the continuo. These lines, illustrating eternity at the beginning, turn into the flames of Hell in the middle section. The bass recitative and aria constitute a shocking change of tone. The dread and horror of the opening movements are erased by an ironic, almost joking, quality. The very authority of God is questioned by the three bouncy oboes and the bass's rather matter-of-fact description of endless damnation as the punishment for brief transgressions of the world. The alto aria with strings is crabbed and difficult; the text is presented as an unsolvable dilemma. The aria is dominated by the opening and closing orchestral passages, each with the most subtle and sophisticated changes of material. The chorale setting that ends the first half of this cantata is almost banal in its plainness. It is as if Bach feels the need to present the most unadulterated version of the chorale.

The second half of the cantata begins with a rousing militaristic bass aria with trumpet. Here the call to arms seems like a desperate attempt to save the brothers of the rich man in the reading from Luke. What follows, however, is one of the most hair-raising things in all of Bach's music. The call to arms has clearly failed, and the alto recitative begins to describe the last moments on earth. Bach then writes a duet for alto and tenor. Bach's duets for this combination of voices always portray a Janus figure. There is a sense that the two singers are looking back on their wasted lives forward to eternal damnation. The short staccato figures in the spare continuo accompaniment, derived from the first recitative, not only portray eternity but are an uncanny evocation of drops of water, water that the rich man was begging for in the reading from Luke. There is a remarkable word-for-word text setting here. Each word is characterized with almost surgical precision. The howling and chattering of teeth become harrowing musical gestures, unique in all of Bach.

After such terrifying music, the brutality of the same plain harmonization of the chorale is almost more than the listener can bear. Almost all of Bach's cantatas have redemption as their denouement. Here the unrelenting starkness of the vision has no relief. It is impossible to know what the parishioners of Leipzig thought of this astonishing vision.

Review of the Recordings

Due to limitations of time and other duties, the review of the recordings below will cover only the first part of the cantata. It does not mean, in any sense, that I the second part is less satisfying.

[1] Rilling
Rilling catches every aspect of the opening chorus, with clear and bold singing from the choir and capable accompaniment. A pessimistic atmosphere dominates this rendition. Theo Altmeyer is a born Bach singer. His delivery has a penetrating quality and his voice has golden timbre, characteristics that are essential to a good Evangelist. These properties serve him well here. His rendition of the recitative and aria for tenor are second to none and are the pick of this recording. Listen, for example, after the opening ritornello of the aria, to his gentle and soft entry, which is gaining momentum and drama as the movement is progressing. Wolfgang Schöne has the depths of voice and expression, which make his rendition something according which others should be measures. Martha Kessler, an unfamiliar (to me) contralto, has a full and deep voice, which suits very well the demands of the aria for alto. Helped by sensitive accompaniment, she gives a moving performance with delicate expression.

[2] Harnoncourt
The usual fragmented approach of Harnoncourt stands in the way of the music and might cause frustration to the occasional listener, who understands what the opening chorus is all about. A heartfelt performance from Equiluz of both the recitative and aria for tenor will not fail to penetrate every human heart. Although he has wonderful voice, he always seems to be at the service of the music and the text, and never tries to attract attention to himself. Max van Egmond’s voice has not enough depth to be fully convincing in the recitative and aria for bass. Despite some criticism, it has always been a pleasure hearing the warm counter-tenor voice and always-civilized singing of Esswood in the H&L cantata cycle. The aria for alto in this cantata is no exception, although his rendition could gain from more overt expression.

[3] Koopman
Koopman’s opening chorus is clear, warm and pleasant. I would dare saying that it is too pleasant and nice to be fully satisfactory in terms of conveying the sombre and frightening message of this chorus. Agnew is OK in the recitative and aria for tenor, but he is definitely not on the same par with either Altmeyer or Equiluz. He does not reach the depths of expression that they do. Mertens manages to put more expression than Egmond does into his performance of the recitative and aria for bass. However his voice also lacks some bottom to deliver the message as convincingly as Schöne. Nevertheless, somehow Mertens gives the impression that he does not give his whole self in these two movements. In the aria for alto, Chance with his penetrating gentleness proves himself to be the most satisfactory soloist of Koopman’s recording.

[4] Leusink
The opening chorus of Leusink is enthusiastic and surprisingly has more drama than Koopman’s has. It is somewhat less polished, but from my point of view, expression is much more important than technical finesse. Schoch is indeed weak in the recitative and aria for tenor. Hearing him after the three preceding tenors, and it seems that he has nothing to offer, neither regarding beauty of voice nor regarding convincing expression. Ramselaar, as usual, is much better, and his recitative and aria for bass are the best part of this recording, next to the opening chorus. I found myself preferring him to Mertens in these two movements. His expression here seems to be more varied and rich, more natural and sincere, and less calculated. An aria for alto of the kind, which can be found in this cantata, is not the native playing yard of Buwalda. Do I have to explain? Every direct comparison between him and Chance and/or Esswood will immediately reveal why.

[6] Craig Smith & Emmanuel Music
Everything can be found in the rendition of the opening chorus by Emmanuel Music & Craig Smith – especially tension and drama. The lights and shades of the marvellous opening chorus are stronger even than Rilling’s. The singing and the playing are clear and bold and reflect internal conviction in the message, which sweeps the occasional listener. The tenor Thomas Gray’s timbre of voice is not exactly to my liking, but in terms of heart-rending expression he has nothing to be shy of, even in the company of Altmeyer and Equiluz. Similar things can be said about David Kravitz, the bass singer. Sometimes, he seems to be exaggerating in the way he tries to be dramatic. More restrained and natural and less forced delivery would be more appropriate and convincing. In the aria for alto we have a nice surprise in the charming voice of Pamela Dellal, who lacks nothing in terms of expression. Nevertheless, I have to note that she seems to have certain problems of stability. The colourful, sensitive, and dramatic accompaniment along all the movements holds the whole rendition of this cantata and gives it a unique cohesiveness. The whole performance would have gained from soloists of higher calibre.

Conclusion

Personal preferences:
Chorus (Mvt. 1) and Chorale (Mvt. 7): Smith/Emmanuel, Rilling, Leusink, Koopman, Harnoncourt
Recitative & Aria for Tenor (Mvt. 2 & Mvt. 3): Altmeyer/Rilling, Equiluz/Harnoncourt, Agnew/Koopman, Gray/Emmanuel, Schoch/Leusink
Recitative & Aria for Bass (Mvt. 4 & Mvt. 5): Schöne/Rilling, Ramselaar/Leusink, Mertens/Koopman, Kravitz/Emmanuel, Egmond/Harnoncourt
Aria for Alto (Mvt. 6): Chance/Koopman, Kessler/Rilling, Esswood/Harnoncourt, Dellal/Emmanuel, Buwalda/Leusink
Overall performance: Rilling, Smith/Emmanuel, Koopman, Harnoncourt, Leusink

As always, I would like to hear other opinions, regarding the above mentioned performances, or other recordings.

Discussions in the Week of May 28, 2006

Eric Bergerud wrote (May 27, 2006):

Introduction to BWV 20: O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort

BWV 20 was a major moment in Bach's career. It began the second Leipzig cycle, a period when, as Wolff puts it, "Bach's artistic productivity borders on the incredible."

Bach also began this frantic period with a work that I find very confusing. The message is clear enough and straight Luther: humans are wretched and all deserve eternal damnation and would receive it without the redemption offered by Christ. The redemption, however, is a gift not asked by everyone and hence the fate of much of mankind is eternal torture. If one believed the message, the conclusion was clear enough: nothing in life meant a thing if it did not help the believer find Christ. Depending upon one's point of view this is a fine example of "tough love", Luther style, or a kind of spiritual extortion.

This message comes often in the cantatas buis normally in the form of bad news/good news. The believer is reminded of the woeful state of sin within and around us all, but also reminded that Christ died to allow the blessed to overcome both damnation and death. However, in BWV 20, often employing imagery of tremendous power, Bach delivers half an hour of spiritual terror with only a single phrase in the concluding chorale imploring Jesus to take the sinner into his "tent of joy." Strong stuff.

The fear and grief sometimes comes across with beautiful clarity. The recitatives are anguished affairs. So is the striking first tenor aria. The chorales are suitably somber. But what does one make of the French overture opening the piece or 'Wacht auf'? Both evoke a kind of grandeur when woe is in order. (Perhaps Bach is striking a martial theme. Military symbolism was commonly employed by Luther, and a battle in those days was a horrifying affair.) The bass aria, mvt 5, is a lovely piece, almost bouncy. But the singer is reminding the congregation that righteous God will chuck the sinner into hellfire for the slightest sin. Something just doesn't connect for yours truly. Perhaps with BWV 20 one faces an example of what Doug Cowling often speaks of: the difficulty of trying to understand a complex work outside the similarly complex religious context of its time.

Musically I don't doubt that Wolff is right. Bach was at the height of his prodigious musical prowess. Yet maybe some of us lacking fluency in German might want to leave the text unopened on this one. Comments?

Details:

BWV 20: O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort (O eternity, O word of thunder)

Chorale Cantata for the 1^st Sunday after Trinity
First Performance Leipzig: June 11, 1724
Readings: Epistle: 1 John 4: 16-21; Gospel: Luke 16: 19-31
Text: Johann Rist (Mvts. 1, 7, 11); Anon (Mvts. 2-6, 8-10: Wolff suggests
Andreas Sübel as text author of 2^nd Jahrgang)
BWV 20 Discussions, 2002: http://www.bach-cantatas.com/BWV20-D.htm
German-English Text: <http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Texts/BWV20-Eng3.htm
Leusink Performance: <http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Mus/BWV20-Mus.htm

Liner notes by Clemens Romijin accompanying Leusink performance:

Cantata BWV 20 O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort for the 1st Sunday after Trinity, 11 June 1724, has the same opening text and chorale melody of Cantata BWV 60 of the same name. With its length of some thirty minutes Cantata BWV 20 is composed on a grander scale than the average cantata. Indeed, this was the first work of a new cycle, and that is the reason why it is conceived in two parts, for before and after the sermon, with a total of eleven movements. Bach gave the opening chorus a genuine introductory character by composing a sweeping French overture. the tenor aria contains striking examples of text illustration: the words 'Ewigkeit' and 'ewig' are translated into long held notes, and 'Flammen' is set into rising and falling coloratura figures. In the aria no. 8 we are woken up by the bass and trumpet with the words 'Wacht auf, wacht auf.'

Structure and Timings (from Leusink)

First Part

Mvt. 1. Chorus [S, A, T, B] (443)
Tromba da tirarsi col Soprano, Oboe I-III, Violino I/II, Viola, Continuo

Mvt. 2. Recitative [Tenor] (055)
Continuo

Mvt. 3. Aria [Tenor] (315)
Violino I/II, Viola, Continuo

Mvt. 4. Recitative [Bass] (128)
Continuo

Mvt. 5. Aria [Bass] (506)
Oboe I-III, Continuo

Mvt. 6. Aria [Alto] (259)
Violino I/II, Viola, Continuo

Mvt. 7. Chorale [S, A, T, B] (109)
Tromba da tirarsi e Oboe I/II e Violino I col Soprano, Oboe III e Violino
II coll'Alto, Viola col Tenore, Continuo

Second Part

Mvt. 8. Aria [Bass] (245)
Tromba da tirarsi, Oboe I e Violino I, Oboe II e Violino II, Oboe III e
Viola all' unisono, Continuo

Mvt. 9. Recitative [Alto] (120)
Continuo

Mvt. 10. Aria (Duetto) [Alto, Tenor] (318)
Continuo

Mvt. 11. Chorale [S, A, T, B] (112)
Tromba da tirarsi e Oboe I/II e Violino I col Soprano, Oboe III e Violino
II coll'Alto, Viola col Tenore, Continuo

Julian Mincham wrote (May 27, 2006):
BWV 20 O Ewigkeit du Donnerwort O Eternity; the sound of thunder
Part 1 Chorale--recit (tenor)--aria (tenor)--recit (bass)--aria (bass)--aria (alto)--chorale
Part 2 Aria (bass)--recit (alto)--duet (alto, tenor)--chorale

I make no apology for being somewhat expansive on this incredible work, the first of forty 'chorale' cantatas of the second cycle, before Bach broke his pattern for the final thirteen (Those interested can find a comparison of the final chorale cantata BWV 1 and the resurrected BWV 4 which marked the break in the pattern, in an essay I have submitted to the 'Articles' section on this website. It is also recommended to read Wolff's comments from p275 of 'JSB the Learned Musician')

The position of this cantata in the cycle consequently marks it out to be of special interest. It is also instructive to compare it with Cantata BWV 75, the first work of the first cycle, heard by the Leipzig congregation just over a year previously. Its placement suggests several fascinating questions worth pursuing. What does it say to the congregation? To God? And what does it tell us of Bach's intentions, ambitions and compositional development?

Firstly, it can safely be assumed that Bach intended to begin each of his first two cycles with a bang. Both Cantatas BWV 75 and BWV 20 are written in two parts. Both have more than the usual 5-9 movements. Both use large forces, predominantly strings and oboes and both introduce a trumpet when a more positive character is required. Clearly, in each case Bach was keen to assert himself on both occasions. Here I am! This is what I intend to present to you---and the scarcely concealed message that music would never be the same again at the great Leipzig churches!

Whilst noting the similarities, nevertheless there are a number of important differences. Both touch upon the parable of the rich man whose wealth will not buy his place in heaven; but in C 20, Bach, and his librettist, were clearly more concerned with the theme of passing time and its implications for humans. For all of the contrasts of rich and poor, joy and sorrow, redeeming faith and harmful disbelief, Cantata BWV 75 never attains the extremes of emotion we find in the later work. Certainly, BWV 75 was written while Bach was at Cöthen and, like the even earlier C 4, gives us fascinating glimpses into Bach's developing techniques of interpretation of text.

The opening choruses make the point. Both have more than one section and contrasting tempi but the assertive dotted rhythms of the later work convey a strength, confidence and assertiveness that contrasts strongly with the reflective, and almost regretful wisps of oboe melody in Cantata BWV 75. Similarly the tortuous lines depicting the torments of human agony in the tenor and alto arias have no counterparts in the earlier work.

The massive opening movement of BWV 20 is a cantus firmus chorus which, clearly, that of BWV 75 is not. Additionally it is an imposing French Overture such as those that open the four orchestral suites. It has the usual three sections, the first and last using assertive, almost aggressivedotted rhythms and a contrapuntal central section. The text, whether intentionally or not, suggests, or at least allows for such a structure. The opening lines bewail the isolation of eternity the sword of which lacerates the soul. The middle section expresses the personal tragedy of one caught in the fate of an unredeemable eternity---I do not know which way to turn! Finally comes an expression of the personal terror which eventuates. Terrible eternity----sorrow and confusion----terror----these are the interlocking themes of the three sections which now make perfect musical and narrative sense.

But the remarkable aspect of this movement is the way in which Bach combines the French Overture with the chorale melody. The structure is absolutely constricted by the chorale phrases and tonality. The sopranos sing the chorale lines, traditionally in long notes, above a rather constrained accompaniment by the remaining voices. There is no discussion of the melodic material by the altos, tenors and basses, no preparing of the chorale phrases, no richly entwined tapestry of counterpoint such as occurs in many later opening choruses in the cycle. Even in the faster middle section (imitative, but not fugal in the sense that we would normally expect in this part of a French overture: and do find in Cantata BWV 75) the lower voices are largely homophonic. This may well be because Bach wished the choir to emphasise the hammer blows of thunder, the lacerating sword and the attendant terror. This music has great theatrical power.

There can be no more striking example of Bach's eclectic musical personality than this first movement. The French Overture, with its connections with opera and the court of Louis IV was the antithesis of traditional, solid German church music. It had implications the worldly, the flippant and the superficial. Yet Here Bach uses it as a vehicle not only to begin his important second cycle of cantatas at Leipzig, but also to launch the chorale/chorus structure which would open this and every one of the following thirty nine cantatas.

It could almost be seen as a breath-taking act of impudence and arrogance. With the power of hindsight, it is, perhaps, more accurate to see it as an example of Bach, the liberated eclectic, who would use any style, structure, idea or technique appropriate to his needs. Furthermore, he was not reticent about announcing it to the world at large. Nevertheless, he took pains in the cantata for the following week (Cantata BWV 2) to revert to a more traditional style of unaccompanied motet for his opening movement. 'See', he seems to be saying. 'I can do it all!'

Further evidence of Bach's long term planning comes from the fact that in the first four cantatas of this second cycle he presents the chorale melody in different voices; here in the sopranos, then the altos (Cantata BWV 2) then tenors (Cantata BWV 7) and lastly the basses (Cantata BWV 135). There was no real reason why he should have done this (other than to set himself the type of challenge which best stimulated his imagination and inventiveness) unless it was a type of 'musical contract' with his choir. Everyone was to have a piece of the action!

Part 1 seems to have been planned with Bach's usual sense of order and balance. Two groups of pairs (recitative and aria, firstly for tenor and then for bass) are followed by an alto aria and the first statement of the chorale
which will conclude the work. It is interesting to note that, while he uses the same chorale to end each part, they are both simple four part settings. In BWV 75 the chorale is much more richly adorned with a flowing oboe and violin line. Bach does adorn the chorale on occasions in this cycle (one has an added horn obligato ) but his preference is now for the simple setting.

Part 2 has its own (different) balance: aria, recit, duet and chorale. One does wonder why, in a work of this length and complexity containing eight recitatives and arias, Bach did not call upon the soprano. It is possible that his favoured soloist was indisposed. But there is no evidence that he re-wrote any movements in a hurry. In any case it is difficult to believe that Bach spent only a few days composing this work. The evidence is that he saw it as being a significant statement. Even if he had only begun composing it at the beginning of the week of its performance it beggars belief to suppose that he had not been turning both this piece and the overall cantata plan, over in his mind for some time. It seems most likely that the decision not to include a soprano aria or recitative was an artistic one, perhaps linked to the general theme of the work. Despite the extrovert nature of the opening movements of each part it is a work with a sulphurous feel of Satan's caverns of eternal torment and he may have felt that the mood was best conveyed through the lower and deeper timbres of the other voices. Also, all of the arias and recitatives but one (the first for bass) are in the minor modes thus supporting this idea. The general tone of part 2 is lighter than in part 1 revealing a consistent Bachian approach to his texts of balancing the arguments. The opening aria is almost festive and the duet, despite its dissonances and chromatic writing reflecting torment and the wailing and gnashing of teeth, nevertheless retains something of a playful quality.

Of note (in the opening chorus) is the flickering repeated note figure on oboes (then strings) which accompanies the first two choral entries never to reappear! Bach seldom uses his material in such a cavalier way and his purpose was certainly imagic. The writing for orchestra in the middle section has an artistic sense of 'purposelessness' or a lacking of knowing which way to turn as described in the text. Doubtless this is why Bach rejected the more traditional fugue that we would have expected. A fugue, at least a Bach fugue, would have had too great a sense of purpose and direction!

Time does not allow one to discuss each of the fascinating movements of this great work. However one should notice how the tenor recitative muses on the theme of eternal damnation and the perpetual misery from which there is no escape. The idea of time being infinite is now established as a major theme of the cantata. And the following tenor aria is extraordinary and packed with explicit imagery. The idea of eternal torment is truly terrifying and Bach seeks to convey both the ponderousness of eternal time which hangs around us forever, and the sheer agonies of the flames of hell. One should also seek out the powerful images of the alto aria.

This cantata is the first in a voyage of forty works every one of which is, in my view, an undisputed masterpiece. Whether revisiting or exploring these works for the first time (in which case I envy you!) the next 10 months will present us with a canon of works the originality and sustained quality of which is almost unique in artistic history. As Aryeh says, 'enjoy'!

Douglas Cowling wrote (May 27, 2006):
Julian Mincham wrote:
< The massive opening movement of Bwv 20 is a cantus firmus chorus which, clearly, that of BWV 75 is not. Additionally it is an imposing French Overture such as those that open the four orchestral suites. It has the usual three sections, the first and last using assertive, almost aggressive dotted rhythms and a contrapuntal central section. >
Bach's use of the French overture in a cantata is intriguing, and I wonderif its courtly symbolism carries a suggestion of the approach of Christ as king and judge at the Last Judgement. There is something of the same "affect" in Cantata BWV 61, "Nun Komm Der Heiland" where a quite frightening French overture announces the approach of Christ the King.

I'm trying to think of other cantatas with French overture choruses. "Gott Fahret Auf Mit Jauchzen" has a loose overture form although I've never heard it performed a Gallic snap. I'd have to look at the text of "Preise Jerusalem Den Herrn" to see if there's royal symbolism.

Raymond Joly wrote (May 28, 2006):
[To Eric Bergerud] I would like to thank you for your frankness. I feel ill at ease with what you hint at in your last sentences. It sounds a bit like: "This is such wonderful music: let us forget about what it is supposed to mean". But my disagreement does not matter. I am grateful to you that you bring things out in the open. It is not evident for everybody that human suffering unto death is what men deserve for being sinners. And the beauty of music extolling such ideas is nothing natural and self-explaining. You very rightfully remind us that listening to Bach is, or should be, an unsettling experience. We cannot just let pleasure happen to us without taking a stand about what that means.

As to what was felt in the nave in Leipzig (the topic of your message just before the one below), I am afraid we will never know. Some members of the congregation sure were deeply shaken because they had felt the presence
of God with renewed strength, or because they had undergone what we nowadays call an aesthetic experience. Some realized that nobody wrote music of quite that quality. I am afraid, though, that a lot sat through all those semi-quavers because it belonged to Sunday like washing the linen was done on Monday, and Wednesday was when you went to the market for poultry.

Very respectfully yours,

Julian Mincham wrote (May 28, 2006):
[To Douglas Cowling] Cantata BWV 61 is a good example of the typical French Overture; it is also to be remembered that Bach reused the French overture to the orchestral suite no 4 as well, although I am not aware that he re-used the other three in other cantatas. Cantata BWV 43 seems more like a movement with an introductory section rather than the 'classic' three part French overture structure.

Of the four works, Cantata BWV 20 seems to be the most interesting because it was the first of the new cycle and clearly, as I mentioned, Bach intended to begin with a large and commanding gesture. The use of the French overture could, as you suggest, have been to symbolise aspects of Christ the King--or it could be that Bach was taking a form connected with worldly celebration, pomp and ceremony as a gesture to start this new cycle (probably too simplistic an idea). Or, by combining the secular overture with the phrases of the chorale, he was demonstrating the 'wholeness' of human existence. Further (and slightly more abstrusely) because of the references to the parable of the rich man, could it be that he was taking a form which represented wealth and power and using it in a context of text which told you how useless it was, so as to underline the point in musical as well as in spiritual terms? Or was he simply the ultimate eclectic, taking what he felt to be appropriate forms and styles from any sources and adapting them to purpose?

We don't know, of course. Bach's complex mind and multi-faceted approach to text and image means that it could have been any or all of these reasons. However, for myself I like the idea that he intentionally took a musical form associated with the rich and powerful and used it to assert the fact that it was precisely these things would NOT get you into heaven!

Neil Halliday wrote (May 28, 2006):
The text comes from a time when public sensibilities were such that governments routinely presented public executions of the utmost brutality, to promote a kind of terror-induced public order. That Bach could set this text, in which terror seems to be used by the powers of heaven with the aim of turning mankind away from sin, ought not cause too much controversy in our time. Raymond Jolly mentioned that men deserve "suffering up to death" for their sins - and maybe so, but the librettist goes to considerable pains to point out that, in eternity, a thousand millions years is just a beginning, making the idea - of eternal torment being justified for the sins of the
imperfect creatures of this planet - totally unacceptable for modern sensibilities.

To judge from Rilling's recording [1], the magnificent opening chorus dusts up incredibly well in a 20th century romantic, symphonic conception. Rilling's tempo will seem slow to younger listeners, especially after listening to the period versions, but the effect of solemnity and splendour is unrivalled if one comes to Rilling's recording without previous hearings of other recordings. Also notice that Leusink's opening "Grave" (my designation) section manages to convey probably more splendour than any of the other period performances - and this is the slowest of the period performances. That said, the sheer majesty of this music appears to come through, from the slowest (Rilling [1]) to the fastest (Suzuki [7]).

Francis Browne, in the previous discussions, wanted comments/opinions on the dramatic return of the "Grave" section as described by Whittaker. I'm not sure that Rilling [1] is entirely successful, because the sudden appearance of an unaccompanied trio of `squawking' oboes has a rather strange aspect to it, difficult to describe.

Rilling [1] has presented a remarkably homogeneous setting of the disparate sections of the entire cantata. The emotions are always strongly painted, and the vocalists always powerfully expressive (and easy on the ear) eg, the triumphalism of the second bass aria for trumpet, oboes and strings (in C major) has an awe-inspiring ring of the "day of judgement', while the first bass aria for three oboes, and continuo including a prominent bassoon, extolling the justice of God's judgements, maintains a mood of utmost seriousness. The tenor and alto arias, both accompanied by the full, rich modern strings, convey a mood of deep sorrow; and Rilling expressively concludes the alto aria's extended passage for `weeping' strings with a diminuendo. Rilling's recitatives maintain a strong sense of drama, a contrast with the incongruous daintiness of some of the HIP versions of the recitatives. The duet, with its stark, angular continuo line, and vocal lines sometimes as if in canon, is expressively sung and convincingly presented, with the heavy `mezzo (half) staccato' in the continuo strings driving the message home. The plain chorale movements (7 and 11) have the substantial quality usually associated with Rilling's plain 4-part chorale harmonisations.

Douglas Cowling wrote (May 28, 2006):
Julian Mincham wrote:
< The use of the French overture could, as you suggest, have been to symbolise aspects of Christ the King--or it could be that Bach was taking a form connected with worldly celebration, pomp and ceremony as a gesture to start this new cycle (probably too simplistic an idea).
Or, by combining the secular overture with the phrases of the chorale, he was demonstrating the 'wholeness' of human existence. >
I'm thinking that this may be a musical "memento mori", that in the midst of life, even the courtly life of the powerful with their gorgeous French overtures, Christ, Death and Judgement may appear at any moment.

On the other hand, I have always liked the notion that in Cantata BWV 61, Bach is announcing the arrival of both the beginning of the church year on Advent 1 and the beginning of his first cantata cycle.

Still debating myself here ... The lordliness or kingliness of Christ is more likely to be expressed by Bach through a bass soloist with trumpet or horn obbligato: e.g. "Quoniam" in the Mass in B Minor (BWV 232), "Grosser Herr" in the Christmas Oratorio (BWV 248). Lots of examples of bass and horns in the cantatas.

Eric Bergerud wrote (May 29, 2006):
[To Raymond Joly] The odd thing about doing the introductions is that you're listening to multiple performances and multiple times and reading the text inGerman and English. Total immersion you might say. It wasn't the message in BWV 20 that confused me - we don't talk about damnation much in our day (at least in the Lutheran churches I've known in my life) but Luther certainly did. And so did Mother Church - that was the purpose of indulgences after all. The Calvinists, as I understand it, in theory believed that the "elect" were a very small group and everyone else on earth was headed to hell.

That said, I can't think of a more dreary text used by Bach. The work is long and much of it is anguished. But in some of the movements it struck me that the feelings elicited by the music were very different than what the text suggested. If I hadn't been following the text closely - or not at all - none of this would have come up. It doesn't help that the work is unquestionably a masterpiece. But the relentless emphasis on spiritual fear should have inspired a dirge - instead you get some sublime moments. As I noted originally, the work didn't upset me as much as it confused me: a little "cognitive dissonance." I don't like being confused, so maybe a little self-censorship isn't such a bad thing.

The question obviously raised for believers is why did Christianity for much of its history required this element of terror. One might think that the promise of eternal life for the believer would have been adequate incentive and the possibility of oblivion adequate sanction. When you get down to it, damnation as understood by the Church in the Middle Ages has a pretty shaky scriptural basis outside of Revelation (which has a shaky scriptural basis). Ironically it was exactly during Bach's adult years that the Protestant churches were moving away from their original emphasis on "fire and brimstone" toward the message of spiritual love. Maybe for reasons of his own Bach was looking backward that Sunday, maybe to shake things up a little. (BTW: I suspect you're right about most of the good Lutherans attending Sunday service at one of those big churches were probably thinking about what was for dinner instead of following closely every minute of the ceremony. Not everyone mind you, but a lot of them. And to think they were getting free cantatas. Life isn't fair.)

Douglas Cowling wrote (May 29, 2006):
Eric Bergerud wrote:
< The question obviously raised for believers is why did Christianity for much of its history required this element of terror. One might think that the promise of eternal life for the believer would have been adequate incentive and the possibility of oblivion adequate sanction. When you get down to it, damnation as understood by the Church in the Middle Ages has a pretty shaky scriptural basis outside of Revelation (which has a shaky scriptural basis). Ironically it was exactly during Bach's adult years that the Protestant churches were moving away from their original emphasis on "fire and brimstone" toward the message of spiritual love. Maybe for reasons of his own Bach was looking backward that Sunday, maybe to shake things up a little. (BTW: I suspect you're right about most of the good Lutherans attending Sunday service at one of those big churches were probably thinking about what was for dinner instead of following closely every minute of the ceremony. Not everyone mind you, but a lot of them. And to think they were getting free cantatas. Life isn't fair.) >
I think this cantata is classic instance of how difficult it is for us to project ourself into the social and theological world of Bach. At last fall's Rilling Bach Festival in Toronto, a Bach scholar (whose name escapes me for the moment) examined the background to Cantata BWV 106. He described a society which lived constantly in the shadow of death, where the dichotomy of life and death was a brutal reality.

The response to that threat was an extraordinary obsession with preparedness for death. He described how ordinary citizens made elaborate provisions for death. How university student wrote poems about death and judgement that would not be out of place as cantata texts. How teenaged girls routinely worked on their funeral dresses even when in the best health.

The descriptions -- and this was solid scholarship -- were so bizarre that the audience actually started to giggle as he continued to recreate the attitudes and beliefs that Bach and his contemporarries lived out in their daily lives. Even straining to create an intellectual space for this material, I found that I simply couldn't relate philosophically or emotionally. Like many of us, I prefered to enjoy the exquisite surface beauty of Cantata 106 and not try to think about the woman in the coffin who may have spent years embroidering the shroud which wrapped her.

Alain Bruguieres wrote (May 29, 2006):
Eric Bergerud wrote:
< the work didn't upset me as much as it confused me: a little "cognitive dissonance." I don't like being confused, so maybe a little self-censorship isn't such a bad thing.
.../...
Ironically it was exactly during Bach's adult years that the Protestant churches were moving away from their original emphasis on "fire and brimstone" toward the message of spiritual love. >
It is not clear at all to me to what extent Bach adhered to the content of the libretti. I have experienced this kind of 'cognitive dissonance' while listening to BWV 54, and as far as I can recall, I can't remember an example of a piece by Bach about eternal damnation that sounded as if the composer adhered without reservations to the ideas expressed. I always sense a kind of distance which is hard to interpret, but he doesn't sound 'in earnest'. This reminds me of a poem attributed to Bach about pipe-smoking, which ends up with a jocular remark that, if his finger slips by accident inside the furnace of the pipe, he experiences a prefiguration of the pains of hell. By the way is this poem authentic?

By contrast, when Bach describes worldly suffering, one feels that he knows what he talks about.

Robert Newman wrote (May 29, 2006):
[To Douglas Cowling] I take exception to the modern portrayal by some teachers of music history of JS Bach and his protestant contemporaries being supposedly 'obsessed by death'. We are told by these modern learned men of the 'extraordinary preparedness for death' by Bach and his society, and descriptions are given to students of things so bizzare that they have little choice but to giggle and learn from their teachers of 'attitudes that Bach and his contemporaries lived out in their daily lives'. But shall we so easily witness the arrival within Bach studies of such a clumsy Jesuitical version of Bach's faith and that of the society in which Bach lived ?

Let the same students consider these things within their true contexts - that of the reformation and of the ongoing Catholic attempts to overthrow it with a 'counter-refornation'. Would they laugh to know that in Rome medals were struck to celebrate the butchery of Calvinists across Europe ? Or would the same students snigger to know that during Bach's own lifetime (e.g. in 1741 at Salzburg( entire communities were uproooted and exiled from their own homes in mid-winter for no other crime than the fact that their faith was not that of the Roman Catholic faith ? I think that if such truths (and there are so many that if is hardly necessary to list more) were to be set before modern students, would they not conclude that Bach and his contemporaries, far from being 'obsessed by death' were in fact amongst the most happy and contented people of their generation despite their highly unusual (and personal) emphasis on life AND death within their society of faith. It would be preposterous to make any image of Bach that was morbid if we were to hear his work as a whole. It must therefore be the same if we are to consider all the social evidence as a whole.

The morbidity can be found in that Catholicism which, even in the 18^th and as early as the 19^th century had its system of purgatory, its payment of masses for the dead, its system of indulgences and in its corporate 'fix' for matters such as personal, individual, - all of which were solid grounds for that protestantism of which Bach is a representative to have so wonderfully succeeded. It is in my view a travesty of history to represent Bach and his society as obsessed with death, they who, in fact, were passionate in body and in soul of life itself.

Alain Bruguieres wrote (May 29, 2006):
Robert Newman wrote:
< I take exception to the modern portrayal by some teachers of music history of JS Bach and his protestant contemporaries being supposedly 'obsessed by death'. We are told by these modern learned men of the 'extraordinary preparedness for death' by Bach and his society, and >descriptions are given to students of things so bizzare that they have little choice but to giggle and learn from their teachers of 'attitudes that Bach and his contemporaries lived out in their daily lives'. But shall we so easily witness the arrival within Bach studies of such a clumsy Jesuitical version of Bach's faith and that of the society in which Bach lived ? >
I wonder whether it is not the modern westerner, rather, who is uncommonly 'obsessed by death', the obsession taking the form of a taboo.

Hence giggles...

Douglas Cowling wrote (May 29, 2006):
Robert Newman wrote:
< I take exception to the modern portrayal by some teachers of music history of JS Bach and his protestant contemporaries being supposedly 'obsessed by death'. We are told by these modern learned men of the 'extraordinary preparedness for death' by Bach and his society, and descriptions are given to students of things so bizzare that they have little choice but to giggle and learn from their teachers of 'attitudes that Bach and his contemporaries lived out in their daily lives'.
Let the same students consider these things within their true contexts - that of the reformation and of the ongoing Catholic attempts to overthrow it with a 'counter-refornation'. I think that if such truths (and there are so many that if is hardly necessary to list more) were to be set before modern students, would they not conclude that Bach and his contemporaries, far from being 'obsessed by death' were in fact amongst the most happy and contented people of their generation despite their highly unusual (and personal) emphasis on life AND death within their society of faith. >
Let me rephrase what I said in my earlier posting. I am not saying that Bach and his contemporaries were pathologically obssessed with death to the point of being cultish or fetishistic. I'm suggesting that from our vantage point in the 21^st century it is almost impossible for us to understand the belief systems both theologically and socially which 18th century Leipzigers held. We giggle and draw away from the social behaviours and literary texts because they are so foreign to us. Perhaps a discussion list in the 23^rd century will talk about us as a culture which avoided death and treated it euphemistically.

I'm not sure why we were treated to a burst of anti-catholic semtiment, but as historians we can never separate the beautiful from the brutal. The works of art which we love and which transform our lives were often created in truly horrible social and political situations: the 16^th century Spanish composer, Guerrero wrote exquisite polyphonic motets to accompany an auto-da-fe of heretics, Handel was part of a social system which encouraged the castration of young boys to create great singers, Strauss wrote a stunning tone poem in the 1940's to celebrate the Japanese imperial dynasty. Every year, this list faces the difficult questions around the Bach Passions: can we ever really understand either the 1st century milieu which produced the scriptural passion gospels or the 18^th century attitudes to anti-Semitism and anti-Judaism in which Bach worked?

At the same time, I don't think we can surrender to the Romantic impulse which Eric describes in which we draw away from the theological and social contexts of the music and say that we don't need to understand the context because we can discover higher, universal truths which are more palatable to our individual philosophies and moral systems.

I have HUGE emotional responses to various works of Bach which I really don't understand. When in the St, Matthew Passion (BWV 244) the bass begins "Am Abend", I am literally reduced to tears. Every time I listen to the SMP (BWV 244), I try to analyze why I have this response. Is there a hidden personal meaning in the text? (I cant find one, Dr. Freud!) Is the music especially affective at that moment? ("Embarme dich" is probably more beautiful). Or perhaps I've been caught up in the musical tension of those amazing crowd choruses and am responding with relief as Bach intended that it's all over.

I think that we have to balance the two attitudes to Bach. We have to admit that there are aspects and dimensions of Bach which we will never understand but we have to keep struggling to deepen our knowledge. And we have to celebrate our emotional responses without imposing modern attitudes and world-views which Bach did not share.

Julian Mincham wrote (May 29, 2006):
Robert Newman wrote:
< It would be preposterous to make any image of Bach that was morbid if we were to hear his work as a whole. >
Well said. And this is one of the keys to the dilemma. Bach, and never more than in this second cycle, is NEVER totally morbidly despondant. There are, even in those wroks which appear to be obsessively pessimistic, always elements of optimism. These are expressed in a number of different and infinitely subtle ways e.g.a bass line or inner part which has a very different feeling from the main vocal line, carefully chosen uses of major and minor modalities, opposing imagic motives within the same movement or, indeed the same ritornello.The balance and the ultimate message of optimism is always there in one form or another.

I hope to be remarking on some of these instances as we proceed through this cycle.

Raymond Joly wrote (May 29, 2006):
[To Robert Newman] Mr. Newman can rest assured that Bach scholars and Bach lovers who are upset or confused by the inhuman aspects of Lutheran theology do not ponder these matters in order to launch a wave of popish protestant bashing. If some are indeed still fighting those wars of a couple of centuries back, they must be very few. Anyway, God having his own son tortured to atone for mankind's sin was dogma in Rome as well as in Wittenberg.

Thomas Braatz wrote (May 29, 2006):
BWV 515 [was:May 28: Introduction BWV 20]

Alain Bruguieres wrote:
>>This reminds me of a poem attributed to Bach about pipe-smoking, which ends up with a jocular remark that, if his finger slips by accident inside the furnace of the pipe, he experiences a prefiguration of the pains of hell. By the way is this poem authentic?<<
BWV 515 from the "Notenbüchlein für Anna Magdalena Bach 1725" has a rather complicated history due to the great interest musicologists and Bach experts have demonstrated in this "Aria: So oft ich meine Tobacks-Pfeife".

Here are some facts and speculations about it as contained in the NBA KB V/4, primarily pp. 89-91, (with an additional commentary by me on the meaning of the text):

1. There are two versions of it, the first one possibly in the handwriting of Gottfried Heinrich Bach (1724-1763), a son who had a musical gift, particularly for playing keyboard instruments which, as the famous obituary on Bach kindly puts it: "War ein großes Genie, welches aber nicht entwickelt wurde...." ["[he - Gottfried Heinrich] was a great genius, who did not reach full development"]. The actual truth of the matter is that he, the eldest son of Maria Magdalena and J. S. Bach, became mentally retarded ("geistig zurückgeblieben") and remained that way for the remainder of his life. This song may be evidence of the concern on the part of both parents that Gottfried Heinrich should receive the greatest encouragement possible for the single gift that he did possess. Both Anna Magdalena and J. S. Bach took the simple piece which their son had either or composed and transposed it to a more singable key. Anna Magdalena did the transposition of the melody line (up a 4th) and J.S. Bach then added the new bass line as possible instruction for his 11-year-old son.

2. The entry of BWV 515, in its both forms, did not take place before 1735 and probably not much later than this date.

3. It becomes a matter of speculation as to whether Gottfried Heinrich actually composed the melody along with the bass line. Some think that he might have and that his parents capitalized on this opportunity to encourage his further musical development.

4. The text is from an anonymous broadside/broadsheet that was published in Leipzig and contained both the text for this song and "Willst du dein Herz mir schenken" (BWV 518). The text appears in somewhat altered forms on other broadsides. There is documentation of a different version of the melody that was being sung in Silesia at the time. It is possible that other melodies were being used as well for the same text.

5. A further complication in the initial version of BWV 515 is that the composer of the melody and bass may or may not have been Gottfried Heinrich and that the handwriting analysis of the individual who wrote or copied this song has been identified as Anonymous II who also helped to copy out some parts for SMP (BWV 244) (later version, of course). It remains conjectural whether Gottfried Heinrich is this same Anonymous II.

6. Only the 1st verse was included (in AMB's handwriting) in the 2nd, transposed version of the song. The complete text, by an unidentified copyist, was added much later on, most likely after Bach's death in 1750.

7. The entire text demonstrates a 'tongue-in-cheek' attitude toward all the references to death and the tortures of hell. The last verse explains that "I can have all these edifying thoughts regarding how many aspects of smoking a pipe can relate to the transitoriness of life at the same time that I still continue to really enjoy smoking my pipe" or "just because I am taking the time out right now to smoke my pipe, I am able to contemplate the nature of life, death, and the afterlife."

Eric Bergerud wrote (May 29, 2006):
[To Robert Newman] I don't think anyone is suggesting that there was anything morbid about Bach's belief systems. I'm not sure what the point of the Counter Reformation is supposed to be. Maybe 18^th century Popes wanted to roll back the clock but when the Spanish Army was smashed at Rocroi and the Empire mauled at Freiburg by Catholic France in 1643-44, the political world was changing in a major way. (I'm away from all of my books right now, but wasn't the King of Saxony in Bach's day a Catholic so he could push a claim to the Polish throne? It didn't seem to bother Bach if so.) Tension between Catholics and Protestants did not evaporate as Louis XIV's persecution of French Protestants illustrated (as did the Glorious Revolution) but Europeans found secular reasons to continue killing each other. (I've always wondered if whether the end of witch hunts corresponded with the end of religious warfare in Europe. Whatever, the stake was pretty much retired from the European world until the 20^th century.)

But there's no doubt that death had an ugly presence over the not so distant past that moderns can hardly grasp. Imagine putting ten children into the grave like Bach did. Indeed, I think the reason that belief systems like 18th century Christianity (you could find dozens of others throughout history) were so deeply rooted is that death came so quickly and with no obvious cause. Nightmares like the 30 Years War were very much the exception. Having your wife and daughter in hale and hearty on Saturday and dead both dead the next Friday was nothing odd in the least. And I wonder if some of those giggles Doug heard weren't a bit nervous - or maybe that's the historian in me.

Raymond Joly wrote (May 30, 2006):
[To Eric Bergerud] Sorry! I am not "suggesting", but claiming vociferously that a lot is morbid about Bach's belief system, as indeed about any belief system. They all consist of someone pretending to know why humans are as fallible and unhappy as they are, and telling them to follow his teachings if they want to change all that. That necessarily implies a lot of (self-)deception and willingness to trample on everybody in order to go on thinking one is right.
We are definitely skirting the boundaries of a Bach Cantatas website, where musical experience meets experience at large. But let us not shrink.

I think that Bach's music was born out of an effort to make sense out of being a human being. He used the pitiable tools at his disposal in his time, place and station. Ours are not that much better, as you will have realized if you ever open some newspapers and have a look at what happens in the block where you live. But we are most peculiar beasts, and what we contrive with our minds can transcend (or so it seems, and for some people) so-called reality. Counterpoint will not silence a preacher, a judge or a boss, or death for that matter, but it helps. To quote Pascal: the stone crushes me, but I know that I am crushed.

I hope Eric Bergerud is proud at what he has started. No one will study Bach less ardently and derive less joy out of his music, but aesthetic smugness has had a beating (I feel).

Santu de Silva wrote (May 30, 2006):
Eric Bergerud writes:
>>> ... The question obviously raised for believers is why did Christianity for much of its history required this element of terror. One might think that the promise of eternal life for the believer would have been adequate incentive and the possibility of oblivion adequate sanction. ... <<<
Indeed!

While The Church --including all denominations-- has put forth the belief in Jesus and his message as a 'good' in itself, there has been always a major emphasis on the material benefits, or the tangible benefits, or the concomitant benefits of heaven, versus the terrors of hell. Many of us feel a --what's the word?-- a kind of disappointment, I suppose, is the best I can do, that this approach has been thought necessary.

Marx called religion the opiate of the masses for this reason, that The Church promised a better life in heaven, if one was patient with the life one was given on Earth. That obviously worked well in the Middle Ages; what is interesting is that the fire and brimstone rhetoric has escalated all through history.

It seems that nobody can believe that (a) Hell is not a deterrent, and that (b) mankind has moral instincts apart from religious teaching. This is the background against which I view Bach's music and choice of text. Sometimes I seem to see Bach recognizing that the knowledge of good and evil --read "moral sense"-- is inborn, and his works seem to preach a more universal gospel, a pleading for love, or charity, or a willingness to forgive, or a call for repentance, that needs no specific appeal to the Christian gospel. At other times we have more Heathen- condemning messages that are sometimes hard [for me] to bear.

Julian Mincham wrote (June 1, 2006):
Douglas Cowling wrote:
< Bach's use of the French overture in a cantata is intriguing, and I wonder if its courtly symbolism carries a suggestion of the approach of Christ as king and judge at the Last Judgement. There is something of the same "affect" in Cantata BWV 61, "Nun Komm Der Heiland" where a quite frightening French overture announces the approach of Christ the King. >
I'm trying to think of other cantatas with French overture choruses. "Gott Fahret Auf Mit Jauchzen" has a loose overture form although I've never heard it performed with a Gallic snap. I'd have to look at the text of "Preise
Jerusalem Den Herrn" to see if there's royal symbolism.

In response to the above, some thoughts on Bach's use of the French Overture in the cantatas (and here I am indebted to Thomas for helping me to locate them quickly)

BWV 20 and BWV 61 haalready been discussed. BWV 43, BWV 75 and even the well known BWV 140 (sleepers Awake) have all been mentioned at some time as having the French Overture as their geneses, but I think they are too far removed from the genre to merit consideration within this context.

BWV 110 is an excellent example using, as it does the overture from the 4^th orchestral suite. The text here asked that our mouths and tongues be filled with laughter and praise for the Lord who has achieved great things for us. Very different from the eternity, thunder, sorrow and terror of BWV 20!

BWV 119 (which, incidentally uses the largest forces which Bach had called upon to this date at Leipzig) is an exhultant song of praise for the lord who' protects and strengthens'.

BWV 194 has a massive opening French overture, very festive in character and calling for a welcome to the festive day celebrated to God's glory. It is notable for the return of the chorus on the words 'welcome this day of joyous festivity' right at the end of the return of the opening dotted section (which in this case forms an introduction to the movement proper. Sometimes Bach included the chorus in this section, other times he waits for the middle fugual section).

BWV 97 was possibly intended as a wedding cantata and has similar celebratory overtones. It is notable that the dotted rhythm opening section does not return to close the movement giving it even more the feel of an introduction to the main choral statement.

There don't seem to be any clear conclusions to draw from all this. Bach used the form for both secular and non-secular cantatas. He modified the form by bringing in voices in different ways and by omitting the final A of the A-B-A structure. There does seem to be a loose celebratory theme connecting these movements; but then there are many more celebratory pieces which have nothing to do with the French overture.

As I said in an earlier posting I suspect that Bach was simply being his natural eclectic self, taking forms and structures from all styles and traditions and adapting them to immediate purpose. BWV 20 still emerges as perhaps the most interesting of these works combining, as it does, the form associated with wealth and power with the counsel that these are the very trappings of earth that will not get you into heaven!

Peter Smaill wrote (June 3, 2006):
BWV 20, "O Ewigkeit du Donnerwort", initiates the second cycle with a meditation on a favourite concept to the librettists - that of Time.

It relates therefore to the "Alpha and Omega" theme analysed by Eric Chafe, in "Anfang und Ende," which focuses on the theme from Revelation and Bach's working out of it in BWV 41, BWV 31, BWV 61, (also with a French overture), BWV 75 (also for the First Sunday in Trinity), the lovely duet in BWV 190, and BWV 70 (the end of the world). Chafe detects that most of these works were conceived either at the beginning or end of the calendar or liturgical years. To these we can add the time-allusions of pizzicato clock effects in BWV 8 and BWV 27 where there is a meditation on death as with BWV 20.

"This I find baffling," says Robertson, referring ot the last line of the Chorale closing the first part of BWV20:

"Denn wird sich enden diese Pein,
Wenn Gott nicht mehr wird ewig sein"

("For this pain will end
When God is no longer to be eternal")

At first pass this is a heretical view of God, whose attributes are Eternal, also Sinless and Impassible - i. e., not in Himself suffering. However, the librettist here is I think alluding to a thread of Christian tradition which anticipates the End of Time, in which mankind is no longer subject to the passage of the years relative to the unchanging Deity.

Just why Time concepts were so significant to the Lutheran world is explained by the theologian Damian Thompson in his book, "The End of Time ":

"It was not until the Reformation that the practice of naming centuries by their ordinal numbers translated into a frame of mind which automatically divided history into centuries...In 1559 a group of Lutheran scholars in Magdeburg published the [anti-Roman Catholic] Magdeburg Centuries, which was intended to be published in sixteen volumes, one for each century. 'Never before in the Christian West had the long span of history been conceived in terms of centuries laid end to end.'

The end of the sixteenth century is an important moment in the development of orientation by measured time. Timepieces accurate to the second began to appear, and the word "second' passed into popular currency....During the seventeenth century, the conjunction of time and event was immeasurably strengthened as the population of the West began to use calendars as means of day-to-day reference. The celebration of birthdays became the norm....".

So it is perhaps unsuprising that in Lutheran Leipzig that the concept of Time was liable to be a focus of Cantata texts, given the Lutheran initiative in its measurement and also in the context of the search for the musical pattern reflecting the created order, the "Harmony of the Spheres".

Neil Halliday wrote (June 3, 2006):
Julian Mincham wrote:
"BWV 20 still emerges as perhaps the most interesting of these works combining, as it does, the form associated with wealth and power with the counsel that these are the very trappings of earth that will not get you into heaven!"
I don't think the dichotomy between these two ideas is necessarily part of the meaning of the opening chorus of BWV 20 (we are talking about the French overture form). Certainly, the awe inspiring nature of the wealth and power, and pomp and splendour of the (French) royal courts, is associated in the opening movement of this cantata with the awe that humans sense when confronting the concept of eternity/infinite time: "O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort". The torments of hell are secondary, in this movement, to the concept of eternity itself.

Hence the performances that best express the solemnity and majesty associated with this awe, will be the most successful.

Thanks for listing the French overtures that occur in the cantatas, presently standing at BWV's 20, BWV 61, BWV 97, BWV 110, BWV 119, BWV 194, all showing the different uses to which the "magnifence" of the form can be put.

Ed Myskowski wrote (June 7, 2006):
BWV 20

When I joined BCW a few months ago, I was anticipating this week (May 28) in the discussions to introduce the Emmanuel Music CD, and to make a comparison with Harnoncourt on LP [2]. I see that Aryeh has previously done so. I would particularly like to refer you to his quotes from the booklet notes by Craig Smith [6], and his comments on the overture and chorus. Continuing from the 2003 discussion with a few thoughts on Part II, and general comments.

I am willing to accept that Harnoncourt [2], with authentic (or anyway, old style) instruments, particularly the trumpet, comes closer to sounding like a Bach premier than does the Smith/Emmanuel performance [6]. The HIP (as of 30 years ago) makes an enjoyable comparison, but for listening enjoyment, Smith/Emmanuel is greatly superior. Nowhere more noticeable than in the opening aria with orchestra of Part II, where the Harnoncourt trumpet might as well be be in a different key. Perhaps this is what Bach endured with those various organ tunings? And what some of the negative posts re Harnoncourt have in mind?

BWV 20 is as far from chiastic symmetry as possibl, the crux of the cantata (for me) is the A/T duet before the final Chorale. In every way, Bach announces the start of something different, a new series. The most cheerful, optimistic, music (and text) is presented at the last minute, and by the most modest forces. The only suggestion that this might be coming is the bubbling oboes accompanying the Bass Aria in Part I, "God is just in his works". Amidst the almost unrelenting gloom, everything can be well (A/T): "O mankind, stop loving the sinful world."

If you are interested in experiencing the breadth of Bach Cantata performance, you will want to have a Smith/Emmanuel CD [6] in your collection, and you will want to know Peggy Pearson, first among the bubbling oboes. Don't take my word for it, see Uri Golumb in the Articles section. Might as well grab this CD while you can. As Aryeh noted, perhaps the first of a set. As of now, still first and only. The organization by liturgical calendar is unique, and Craig Smith's comments and analysis add new insight.

Aryeh mentioned that better soloists might improve the CD. Perhaps, but I think this misses the point: Emmanuel Music has been performing (and perfecting) Bach in a Sunday church setting for thirty years or so. Some of the performers have been there from the beginning. The soloists have always come from the choir. Some have gone on to international careers. They return for nostalgic visits, not always as soloist. It is the long
term dedication that this CD represents, I think successfully. It is unfair to single out individuals, but I think if you listen to Pamela Dellal's alto, consider her translations, you will get the flavor of the commitment to Bach by Smith/Emmanuel as a group [6]. I find all soloists at least satisfactory, and sometimes outstanding. I will do a bit more listening, and let you know if I have a best of show recommendation. Not out of the question.

Still, there is nothing quite to match the old brown boxes of Harnoncourt [2], complete with scores. I have not had mine from the beginning, rather inexpensive acquisitions for the closet as the LP/CD transition took place. Many only played once, so it is a particular pleasure to have a reason to get them out, and a bonus for a non-professional to have the score at hand. Personally, I enjoy having an hypothesis of an authentic performance, for comparative purposes if nothing else. Some that have been my only holding I have enjoyed listening to many times. You don't know what you've got till it's gone. Not exactly the phrase, but you know what I mean.

Neil Halliday wrote (June 8, 2006):
It's interesting to click on the amazon examples of all the recordings of BWV 20 (available at the BCW).

Smith's performance of the trumpet aria [6] seems very fast; notice that Leusink [4] has a slower tempo that captures the pomp of the aria. Both these conductors succeed with a moderate tempo in the other dotted rhythm movement, namely, the opening chorus. (Smith's performance sounds more polished).

Ed Myskowski wrote (June 9, 2006):
Neil Halliday wrote:
< Smith's performance of the trumpet aria [6] seems very fast; notice that Leusink [4] has a slower tempo that captures the pomp of the aria. >
I have listened to a snatch of Leusink [4] at Amazon.de (at your suggestion), and returned to my Harnoncourt LP [2] as well, which to me sounds similar (perhaps even a tad slower) than Leusink. I was originally more struck by the difference in trumpet sonority and didn't pay much attention to the tempo distinction, but what you point out is confirmed by a more careful listen, as well as by timings: Smith/Emmanuel, 2:20 [6], Harnoncourt, 2:44.

This was my first listen to any Harnoncourt [2] since joining BCW. The extensive background discussion prepared me to hear (1) quick tempos, and (2) sloppy brass. So much for open ears and mind. I will give the authentic trumpet another chance, it didn't sound quite so bad the second time through. I still prefer the Smith/Emmanuel sonority [6], but now that you point it out , the tempo is a bit quick. Wacht auf (wake up), I suppose is the justification.

It is a bit difficult for me to be objective about the local band, but I do find the Smith/Emmanuel [6] to be superb for a continuous listen, and an accurate representation of their weekly performance practice. A regional treasure, going worldwide one of these centuries.

BWV 20 (Trinity 1)

Ed Myskowski wrote (May 25, 2008):
For those following the liturgical year, today May 25, 2008 CE, is the First Sunday after Trinity, the beginning of the second half of the Lutheran church calendar, that <vast desert of Sundays> (blame Whittaker, not me). especially in a year like this one when they will stretch all the way to Trinity 27.

Brian McCreath chose BWV 20, in the Craig Smith/Emmanuel Music recording, for his weekly 8 AM broadcast over WGBH (89.7 FM, www.wgbh.org). This was especially appropriate for many reasons, including:

(1) BWV 20 begins the second Leipzig cycle (Jahrgang II), the Chorale Cantatas. The text is appropriate to life as a struggle (traversal of a desert?), without relief, let alone redemption, in sight until the closng chorale.

(2) This weekend is Memorial Day in USA, the first since we lost Craig Smith late last year.

(3) The closing chorale emphasizes the communal nature of belief and redemption. Brian continues a thirty plus year tradition of just such communal experience, listening to a Bach cantata together via radio, originally in Boston only, but now available worldwide via webcast. Emmanuel Music continues the weekly tradition begun by Craig, almost as long in duration, of live cantata performance. I hope other BCML readers join the Boston radio and music community in sharing the tradition, and remembering Craig Smith on his first Memorial Day. The music lives on. Thanks, Craig!

Douglas Cowling wrote (May 25, 2008):
Ed Myskowski wrote:
< For those following the liturgical year, today May 25, 2008 CE, is the First Sunday after Trinity, the beginning of the second half of the Lutheran church calendar, that <vast desert of Sundays> (blame Whittaker, not me). especially in a year like this one when they will stretch all the way to Trinity 27. >
But at the end is the Sunday of "Wachet Auf!"

Ed Myskowski wrote (May 26, 2008):
Doug Cowling wrote, in response to my post:
>But at the end is the Sunday of "Wachet Auf!"<
I have wondered why Bach composed such a special work, for a rarely recurring church date, but perhaps it is perfectly appropriate to conclude the longest trek?

An interesting set of cantatas for comparison would be those which were composed for first performance on the last (23 to 27) Sunday after Trinity, the Sunday before Advent, and the conclusion of the liturgical year.

Douglas Cowling wrote (May 26, 2008):
Ed Myskowski wrote:
< I have wondered why Bach composed such a special work, for a rarely recurring church date, but perhaps it is perfectly appropriate to conclude the longest trek? >
The same dilemma holds for the Christmas Oratorio whose performance would be restricted to years when Christmas Day fell in a year when there was a Sunday on Jan 2,3, 4 or 5.

William Hoffman wrote (May 26, 2008):
BWV 20 (Trinity 1) Season

I think the Trinity Season, half a church year, is often overlooked by many Bach music lovers and writers. It follows a half year of momentous Principal Festivals and accompanying music: Nativity, Epiphany, Baptism Transfiguration, Ash Wednesday, Sunday of the Passion, Holy Week, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Resurrection, Ascension and Pentecost. What's left? Just two, the beginning and the end of the Trinity Season: Trinity Festivaand Christ the King Sunday, which falls, simply on the Last Sunday of Trinity. Perhaps that explains in part why Bach so late wrote such a wonderful chorale cantata, BWV 140, which summarizes Trinity and especially ushers in Advent and the New Church Year.

So, what do we have at Trinity? There's a string of seemingly forgotten Sundays when we rarely have more than three cantatas for each event. In the Orgelbüchlein, Bach completed most of the first 51 "de tempore" church year chorale settings, ending with Pentecost. But of the remaining 113 Trinity and "omne tempore" projected chorales, I count only 7, BWV 635-641. Further, there are only four lesser festivals with Bach cantatas: John the Baptist, Visitation, St. Michael, and Reformation.

It is a time when the emphasis shifts from Christ to the whole Christian Trinity, and in terms of the chorales, a long season of personal reflection. Instead of the great hymns of the Principal Festivals -- fill in the space with your favorite chorale, joyous or penitential -- there are generic themes for all these Sundays -- Cathechism themes, Christian Life & Conduct, Psalms, the Word and the Church, and the devotional themes of Death and Dying (the largest number, 16), Morning, Evening, and Meals.

In a brief discussion recently at Bethleham PA with Robin Leaver, I wondered if -- after all his revealing theologically-related articles and essays -- perhaps he still had a Bach book to write on one theme or area of study. He thinks there are some significant ideas to explore and bring forth about the impact of Lutheran Devotional Books which every Lutheran -- Pietist, Orthodox, Reform, Whatever -- carried with them, from awakening to sleep, sort of like reflections or vespers.

As for chorale Cantata BWV 20, "O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort," it most fittingly inaugurates the Trinity Season proper. Those 10 verses are deeply moving and reflective, especially of our mortality, our brief sojourn on this earth, looking for meaning. Meanwhile, Cantata BWV 60, same incipit, is for the 24^th Sunday of Trinity. Incidentally, that chorale is found in Bach's last Passion, BWV 247, that concise, devotional, chorale-enfused work (16), with only six contemplative arias, occuring near the beginning of the Garden scene, with the admonition, "Wake-up, O man, from sinful-sleep" (echoes of BWV 140). Incidentally, Norton Critical Commentary has Gerhard Herz' wonderful study of that cantata, as well as BWV 4.

Peter Smaill wrote (May 26, 2008):
[To William Hoffman] BWV 20 is central to Bach's sub theme of Time which is shot through many of the Cantatas.

However there is a puzzle which as yet I have never seen analysed by the scholars. It is the sentiment at the end of the Chorale verse by Johann Rist which closes the first part:

Denn wird sich enden diesen Pein
Wenn Gott nicht mehr wird ewig sein.

("For this pain will only cease
When God is no longer eternal")

The idea that God is in any circumstance not eternal strikes me as very odd, possibly an allusion to the Second Coming from the doctrine of the Parousia embedded in Revelation. Has anyone a better explanation of this unusual theological emphasis?

Douglas Cowling wrote (May 26, 2008):
Peter Smaill wrote:
< Denn wird sich enden diesen Pein
Wenn Gott nicht mehr wird ewig sein.
("For this pain will only cease
When God is no longer eternal") >
My German is always dodgey, but I suspect 'wenn' should be translated as "if". The German seems to carry the sense that there would be no end to the pain of human life if God was not eternal -- thereby an affirmation of final salvation.

Peter Smaill wrote (May 26, 2008):
[To Douglas Cowling] Thanks for the thesis than in this context "Wenn" = "if", as it can in modern German. My recollection, however, is that "Wenn" is the antique Saxon form for "Wann"; (e.g., the famous "Wenn wir in hoechsten Noeten sind") and is in all the translations I can find, rendered as, "When"!

The sense would still be problematic; "This pain will only cease/If God is no longer eternal" (??).

Anyone else have a view on the Rist text?

Julian Mincham wrote (May 26, 2008):
[To Peter Smaill] The correspondence about BWV 20 interests me. Bach wrote 3 cantatas for the 1^st Sunday after Trinity--BWV 75, BWV 20 and BWV 39 and they are all big impressive works. Why? certainly the first is explained by the fact that Bach was starting his tenure at Leipzig and would certainly have wanted to make an immediate impression. 20 is the start of the second of Bach's (not the church's ) cycle and is even more impressiv. But who apart from Bach would be celebrating the fact that this was the signal start of his second year? It seems unlikely that this would have been on any significance to anyone else. BWV 39 is a vast work too with a magnificent opening chorus----might it actually have been intended as the first of a depleted 4^th cycle (although this is not as the later cycles are set out by Wolff)? There is no cantata for this day for 1725--might it have been lost?

A lot of questions then about the significance of this day for Bach, to which Peter has recently added the additional unexplained theological point. Why such a significant day? Was it personal (for Bach) or were there theological reasons? Has this day any special religious significance?

Answers on a postcard please.

Ed Myskowski wrote (May 26, 2008):
Julian Mincham wrote:
>Has this day any special religious significance?<
Well (a deep subject)!

Rather analogous to the yin/yang of Asian philosophy (as I interpret it):

Trinity 1 to Trinity last (23 to 27, depending on the date of the moveable feast, Easter) - the interior, churchy, yin aspects.

Advent to Trinity - the exterior, worldly, yang aspects

For those of us who relate everything to the even deeper concept of <Earth Cycles> (EC, as opposed to CE), this corresponds roughly to Summer/Winter (northern hemisphere).

Which might seem to provide an easy point of entry for human cultures seeking to reconcile their differences. As if that has ever been a human objective.

Longish postcard, best I could do.

Douglas Cowling wrote (May 26, 2008):
Julian Mincham wrote:
< The correspondence about BWV 20 interests me. Bach wrote 3 cantatas for the 1^st Sunday after Trinity--BWV 75, BWV 20 and BWV 39 and they are all big impressive works.Why? certainly the first? is explained by the fact that Bach was starting his tenure at Leipzig and would certainly have wanted to make an immediate impression. 20 is the start of the second of Bach's (not the church's ) cycle and is even more impressiv. But who apart from Bach would be celebrating the fact that this was the signal start of his second year? >
Has any social historian done any work on how the secular civic calendar in Leipzig interacted with the church calendar? Occasions like the inauguration of the town council are obvious, but I continue to wonder why St. Michael's Day (Sept 29) and New Year's Day (Jan 1) are such big deals in Bach's compositional calendar.

Neither are particularly important days in the church calendar yet Bach always wrote large-scale works which places those days on a par with Easter, Christmas and Pentecost, the three first-rank feasts. It would be interesting to identify any patterns in the use of "festive" orchestration with brass and timpani on particular Sundays. Leipzig fairs? Beginning of the school year? Anniversary of the sovereign's accession?

William Hoffman wrote (May 27, 2008):
[To Julian Mincham] William Hoffman replies: Re. the significance of Trinity Sunday and the existence of only three cantatas. The Principal Feast of Trinity was also the most significant observance during the Trinity Season. Why noTrinity Sunday cantata for June 6, 1725? Bach had just finished two years of cycles and the Thomas School session had just ended. He took a well-deserved break and went to Cöthen, leaving his designated perfect in charge. In fact for the entire 1725 Trinity season, Bach composed virtually no new cantatas, beginning the hodge-podge (two years to compose) Cycle 3 on December 2, with the start of the church year (Advent 1) possibly with an early version of BWV 36. So what did Bach do for what could be called Cycle 2.5? Possibly shorted repeats of BWV 75 and BWV 76 (no other cantata repeats are documented) and four Neumeister-texted cantatas of Telemann through Trinity 6 and then nothing except chorale Cantata (per omnes versus) BWV 137 for Ratswahl and BWV 39 for Reformation. Why no more? Bach was looking for a librettist, did not continue with von Ziegler and eventually relied mostly on printed or manuscript texts from Rudolstadt, plus Lehms, Neumeister and Franck. Also, it has been suggested that the Leipzig Cantor (Teacher) Faction finally prevailed and denied Bach the cantata performing resources after the 1725 Easter Sunday extravaganza of Oratorio BWV 249. Meanwhile, as Wolff observes, Bach turned to the great SMP (BWV 244) (JSB:TLM 281).

Ed Myskowski wrote (May 27, 2008):
William Hoffman wrote:
> Re. the significance of Trinity Sunday and the existence of only three cantatas. The Principal Feast of Trinity was also the most significant observance during the Trinity Season.<
Is there some confusion over the exact language, or the liturgical year?

As I get it, Trinity Sunday is in fact the end, the last Sunday of the first <half> of the liturgical year, which begins with Advent.

The <Trinity Season> would then consist of the <vast desert> of the Sundays after Trinity from first to twenty-third/twenty seventh, depending ... See the lengthy discussion of how to calculate Easter, for details of the <depending>.

We have been discussing, a bit, recent broadcast and performance of BWV 75 and BWV 20, both for First Sunday after Trinity, not for Trinity Sunday.

Confusing? You betcha. Thats how the honchos stay in charge of the little folk.

Julian Mincham wrote (May 27, 2008):
[To William Hoffman] As Ed has pointed out it was the apparent significance to Bach of the 1st Sunday after Trinity that I was discussing, not the Sunday of Trinity itself.

Douglas Cowling wrote (May 27, 2008):
William Hoffman wrote:
< I think the Trinity Season, half a church year, is often overlooked by many Bach music lovers and writers. It follows a half year of momentous Principal Festivals and accompanying music: Nativity, Epiphany, Baptism Transfiguration, Ash Wednesday, Sunday of the Passion, Holy Week, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Resurrection, Ascension and Pentecost. What's left? Just two, the beginning and the end of the Trinity Season: Trinity Festival and Christ the King Sunday, which falls, simply on the Last Sunday of Trinity. Perhaps that explains in part why Bach so late wrote such a wonderful chorale cantata, BWV 140, which summarizes Trinity and especially ushers in Advent and the New Church Year. >
We should probably be a bit more precise about the calendar which Back used and not project back contemporary usage. Bach's calendar was essentially the pre-Reformation calendar observed by German catholics. Luther retained the Sunday titles and readings, but Lutherans did not accept the changes made in the late 16th century by the Council of Trent for the new Tridentine mass. From that point on, the two calendars had many differences. For this list, our primary interest is in the occasions for which Bach had to provide a cantata: those tell us what were the principal days in his year. We also should note that Lutheran practice was not uniform. Weimar had cantatas on all of the four Sundays of Advent; Leipzig only on the first.

Luther abolished all of the ceremonies of Holy Week so Maundy Thursday and Holy Saturday were not special feast days -- even Palm Sunday lost its procession of palms. Bach had extraordinary responsibilites on Palm Sunday, Good Friday and Easter Day. The other days of Holy Week were treated as weekdays.

Nearly all of the saints' days were reduced except for a handful of "gospel" feast days which were celebrated like Sundays with a cantata: Purification (Feb 2), Annunciation (mar 25), John the Baptist (June 24), Visitation (July 10) and St. Michael (Sept 29). To this was added the new observation of the Reformation on Oct 31. Feasts like Transfiguration (Aug 6) were not observed. Bach had six non-Sundays which required cantatas.

In the 1970's, the Catholic church began a reform of the church calendar which addressed some of historical errors which had crept in and basically adopted a calendar which goes back to the late patristic period. This calendar was widely adopted by other churches including the Lutherans, Anglican and many protestant churches. The new calendar emphasized ancient feasts like the Baptism of Christ (Sunday after Epiphany) which had no special significance for Bach. It also added feasts like Christ the King which was only invented in 1922. Bach wrote "Wachet Auf" for Trinity 27 not the "Sunday before Advent" or "Christ the King". The extraordinary thing is that Bach wrote what is arguably his greatest cantata for a day which would never occur again in his lifetime.

We need a lot more information about how the civic and social years connected with the church year before we can speculate about people's expectations. For instance, St. Michael's Day on Sept 29 was a big blowout in church and clearly a holiday of import for the citizens of Leipzig. Why? Jan 1 was the day of gift-giving in the 18^th century not Christmas and the festive cantatas show its significance in the popular mind.

One final note: these distinctions are offered as part of recreating the historical matrix of Bach's music and are not a call to conversion as at least one member of the list mistakes them.

William Hoffman wrote (May 28, 2008):
Fugitive afterthoughts:

Sorry for my confusion about the designation of Sundays in Trinity. The festival of Trinity Sunday begins the Trinity season. What complicates matters is that the Lutheran Church now calls the whole Trinity Season simply the Sundays after Pentecost, with Trinity Sunday now called the First Sunday After Pentecost. Maybe they too were confused.

What I tried to stress is the importance of the whole season (half the church year) with the "omne tempore" emphasis on the Christian message and the essential concept of the Trinity, which is still a theological conundrum for most of us so-called lay people ("priesthood of all believers," said Luther). The importance of the Trinitarian concept, I think, is found in the Deutsche Messe and Bach's Great Mass, with the Credo rightfully at the center. The theme of praise is essential, especially involving the Doxology, the Te Deum laudaumus, and the Town Council Cantatas during Bach's time, which also include canticles of thanksgiving from the Psalms.

As for St. Michael's Day, the book Bach's Changing World describes the famous Leipzig fall fair taking place at that time, with numerous visitors going to the main church services and hearing Bach's cantatas, then going forth and enjoying the fair, with all the sellers' stalls (especially books) and entertainment. Too bad Leipzig lacked an opera house! And for the local folk Bach still had Reformation Sunday, with that other great chorale Cantata BWV 80.

Ed Myskowski wrote (May 28,2008):
William Hoffman wrote:
>Fugitive afterthoughts:<
I am so nearly an Old Dude, that all my thoughts are fugitive. If I do not record them quickly, they have fled. Thanks for keeping the Whittaker reference alive, perhaps he thanks you as well?

WH:
>Sorry for my confusion about the designation of Sundays in Trinity. The festival of Trinity Sunday begins the Trinity season. What complicates matters is that the Lutheran Church now calls the whole Trinity Season simply the Sundays after Pentecost, with Trinity Sunday now called the First Sunday After Pentecost. Maybe they too were confused.<
EM:
For BCML, what is important is not what the Lutheran Church chooses to do now, but what were the standards for Bach. Doug recently reemphasized this point. I do agree with your underlyng thought, that Trinity Sunday represents a hinge point, the transition from winter to summer, from yin to yang, from worldly to churchy. My personal opinion is that the Christian ethos has this exactly out of phase, but save that for another time. Stick to Bach.

I learned the Christian calendar, a bit, as a youth in the Roman Catholic tradition, where we counted Sundays from Pentecost. As you suggest, Trinity is in fact, the first Sunday after Pentecost. You can imagine my confusion, after many years away from any specific theology, to join BCML, to listen to the music, with the expectation that I would simply reactivate youthful memories of the church calendar.

You can also imagine my confusion trying to understand that Whitsun equals Pentecost, but that Bach counted his second season Sundays not from that day, but from the following Sunday. After I struggled, and finally succeeded to get that straight, I believe you are saying that the Lutheran Church has now decided <Never mind, we will disregard the five hundred years of silly disagreement, and count the same as the Roman Church>?

I suggest we:

(1) Get clear agreement as to the Lutheran Church calendar, for Bach.

(2) Limit our discussion to that specific calendar, as the one which is relevant to the music.

I am sticking to my opinion that the second part of the church year, for Bach, started with the First Sunday after Trinity (Trinity 1). That would be the second Sunday after Pentecost, I suppose.

I am also sticking with my spontaneous exclamation, but now accumulating a certain charm of its own in my mind:

Confusing? You betcha! Thats how the honchos maintain control over the little folk.

Kim Patrick Clow wrote (May 28, 2008):
William Hoffman wrote:
< As for St. Michael's Day, the book Bach's Changing World describes the famous Leipzig fall fair taking place at that time, with numerous visitors going to the main church services and hearing Bach's cantatas, then going forth and enjoying the fair, with all the sellers' stalls (especially books) and entertainment. >
St. Michael's day was a big celebration for all German baroque composers, as was Trinity Sunday, there are lavishly scored cantatas by Telemann, Fasch, Stolzel, Graupner, and others. This isn't unique for Leipzig or Bach.

< Too bad Leipzig lacked an opera house! And for the local folk Bach still had Reformation Sunday, with that other great chorale Cantata BWV 80. >
But it did! Telemann wrote operas there as a student in Leipzig, and was supplied operas for performance even after he had left the area.

Douglas Cowling wrote (May 28, 2008):
Ed Myskowski wrote:
< You can also imagine my confusion trying to understand that Whitsun equals Pentecost, but that Bach counted his second season Sundays not from that day, but from the following Sunday. After I struggled, and finally succeeded to get that straight, I believe you are saying that the Lutheran Church has now decided <Never mind, we will disregard the five hundred years of silly disagreement, and count the same as the Roman Church>? >
Grin. It's even more complicated than that. Before the imposition of theuniform Tridentine rite in the late 16th century, various Catholic diocesesnumbered the Sundays after Pentecost in different ways.

In Italy and Spain, Sundays were numbered as "Sundays after Pentecost". However, for centuries before the Reformation, dioceses in England and Germany numbered them as "Sundays after Trinity".

After the Reformation, both the Anglican and Lutheran churches continued the numbering system which was traditional to those regions of the Catholic church. Bach's calendar is substantially that observed by the pre-Reformation church north of the Alps.

Ed Myskowski wrote (May 28, 2008):
Doug cowling wrote:
>After the Reformation, both the Anglican and Lutheran churches continued the numbering system which was traditional to those regions of the Catholic church. Bach's calendar is substantially that observed by the
pre-Reformation church north of the Alps.<
Thanks for the clarification. It does not exactly remove the confusion, but it relieves Luther and/or other Reformers or any responsibility for unnecessarily adding confusion.

Jean Laaninen wrote (May 28, 2008):
[To Douglas Cowling] You're provided some interesting detail here, and I think most of it seems quite correct to me. However, from my early childhood on, which dates in awareness from the late 1940s, Swedish Lutherans retained Maundy Thursday, and the neglect of attendance at such services was considered in those days to be a pretty bad thing. So I was always under the impression that Luther had supported that particular event. In a genial manner I'd be interested in knowing your source for Luther's position on Maundy Thursday. This also brings to bear, even though I have not had time yet to pursue it, why I find I have some interest in the structure of the church year in Bach's day. I can see now why you have a preference toward the Sunday's.

The day of giving, January 1^st, might also have coincided with the civic tax structure of the time...this is basically a guess since I don't know anything about the filing of taxes in Bach's day - just something that might make sense here if anyone is informed on such matters.

St. Michaels Day falls about the time of year churches still celebrate the beginning of a new Christian education season, and I am also led to wonder about the possible connection between the history of St. Michael defeating
evil through his battle with the devil, and the protection of children in a new season of learning. This of course falls into the area of speculation, but might provide some basis for consideration. One might find some clues in
the literature used to provide Bach with compositional elements.

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Last update: ýMay 28, 2008 ý12:36:02