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• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:20+00:00 Ich will den Kreuzstab gerne tragen BWV 56 / BC A 146 13 Solo cantata for the nineteenth Sunday After Trinity. First performed 10/27/1726 in Leipzig (Cycle III). Text by C Birkmann. plain 2024-04-24T15:00:59+00:00 1726-10-27 BWV 56 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 08Trinity19 Nineteenth Sunday After Trinity BC A 146 Johann Sebastian Bach C Birkmann Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Ich will den Kreuzstab gerne tragen, BWV 56 / BC A 146" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 454 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig III

  Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity, October 27, 1726

  From today’s perspective, Bach’s Kreuzstab Cantata occupies a certain position of privilege in his vocal works not only musically but also regarding its text. It originated in the autumn of 1726 in close temporal proximity to several other solo cantatas for the late Trinity period. In contrast to these, however, it is the only one that bears the original designation cantata. Its assignment to the nineteenth Sunday of Trinity suggests a relation to the Gospel reading of that Sunday, which gives the account in Matthew 9:1–8 of Jesus’s healing of the palsy-stricken person.

  And he entered the boat and crossed back over and came into his own city. And behold, they brought him a man sick with palsy, lying on a bed. As now Jesus saw their faith, he spoke to the one sick with palsy: Be of good cheer, my son; your sins are forgiven. And see, several of the lawyers spoke among themselves: This man blasphemes God! However, as Jesus saw their thoughts, he said: Why do you think such evil in your hearts? What is easier to say: Your sins are forgiven, or to say: Stand up and walk? But so that you know that the Son of Man has the power to forgive sins on earth (he said to the one sick with palsy): Stand up, pick up your bed, and go home! And he stood up and went home. As the people saw that, they marveled and praised God, who had given such power to men.

  
  The unknown librettist of our cantata relies only in part upon the Gospel reading.¹ He entirely avoids the account of the healing of the sick and instead places all the more importance upon certainty of faith and the forgiveness of sins. The origin of the title line has caused headaches for Bach researchers. It undoubtedly references the first movement of a solo cantata libretto written by Erdmann Neumeister in 1702 for performance at the court of Weissenfels: “Ich will den Kreuzweg gerne gehen: / Ich weiß, da führt mich Gottes Hand” (I will gladly go the way of the cross: / I know God’s hand leads me there). Documentation for the word “Kreuzstab,” on the other hand, is not easy to produce, even if recent research has made us aware that the concept has a firm place in Catholic tradition. In the Lutheran hymnal, however, the word “Kreuzstab” appears only rarely. The following strophe is found in Paul Gerhardt’s hymn text Gib dich zufrieden und sei stille (Be contented and be still) of 1666:

  Es kann und mag nicht anders werden, 
  Alle Menschen müßen leiden.
  Was webt und lebet auf der Erden 
  Kann das Unglück nicht vermeiden. 
  Des Kreuzes Stab schlägt unsre Lenden 
  Bis in das Grab, da wird sichs enden.
  Gib dich zufrieden!
  
  It can and may not be different, 
  All people must suffer.
  Whatever moves and lives upon the earth 
  Cannot avoid misfortune.
  The cross’s beam strikes our loins 
  Until the grave, then it will end. 
  Be contented!

  
  Beyond Bach’s profound knowledge of the Lutheran hymnal in general, his knowledge of this hymn in particular is seen in the fact that he entered it twice in the 1725 notebook he prepared for his wife, Anna Magdalena. Another instance is provided by the hymn Ach Gott, wird denn mein Leid (Ah God, will then my suffering), which appears in hymnals beneath the heading “Trost-Lied eines betrübten Creuz-Trägers” (Song of consolation of a sorrowful cross bearer) and which refers to verses in Psalm 77. One strophe reads:
  
  Du Herr probirest mich
  Mit deinem Kreuzesstabe, 
  Ob ich auch werde dich
  Fest lieben bis zum Grabe;
  Ob ich auch, liebster Gott,
  Dir werde treu verbleiben,
  Und nimmer keine Not
  Von dir mich lassen treiben.
  
  You, Lord, you test me
  With your cross’s beam, 
  Whether I will also love you 
  Truly until the grave, 
  Whether I also, dear God, 
  Will remain ever true to you 
  And never let distress
  Drive me away from you.
  
  Here again, a connection to Bach is easily produced: the chorale is found in what is known as the Wagner Hymnal. It appeared in eight volumes in Leipzig in 1697, it is known to have been in Bach’s possession, and he is known to have drawn upon it in other contexts.
  
  In the cantata text, the word “Kreuzstab” refers not only to carrying the cross but also to pilgrimage, the way to heaven:²

  Ich will den Kreuzstab gerne tragen, 
  Er kommt von Gottes lieber Hand, 
  Der führet mich nach meinen Plagen 
  Zu Gott, in das gelobte Land.
  Da leg ich den Kummer auf einmal ins Grab,
  Da wischt mir die Tränen mein Heiland selbst ab.
  
  I will gladly carry the cross’s beam, 
  It comes from God’s loving hand, 
  It leads me, after my torments,
  To God in the promised land.
  There I lay my troubles all at once in the grave, 
  There my savior himself wipes my tears away.

  
  In changing the meter in the strophe’s last two lines, the librettist once again follows the example of a cantata libretto published in 1702 by Erdmann Neumeister. It remains uncertain whether this closing expression refers to the Revelation of St. John, which in two places (7:17, 21:4) reads, “Gott wird abwischen alle Tränen von ihren Augen” (God will wipe away all tears from their eyes), or to Isaiah 25:8, which reads, “Der Herr wird die Tränen von allen Angesichtern abwischen und wird aufheben die Schmach seines Volks in allen Landen” (The Lord God will wipe the tears from all faces and will take away the rebuke of his people in all lands). In the cantata’s second movement, a recitative, the librettist takes up the familiar trope of the seafarer and compares the “Wandel auf der Welt” (journey in the world) to a sea voyage, whereby cross and tribulation appear as dangerous waves and the mercy of God as a life-saving anchor. The promise “Ich will dich nicht verlassen noch versäumen” (I will not forsake or abandon you) is found in this wording in Hebrews 13:5, but it essentially goes back to an account in Joshua.10 Near the end of the recitative, the line “So tret ich aus dem Schiff in meine Stadt” (I shall step off the ship into my city) recalls the beginning of the Sunday Gospel reading.
  
  The second aria proves to be a paraphrase of a verse from Isaiah 40: “Die auf den Herrn harren, kriegen neue Kraft, daß sie auffahren mit flügeln wie Adler, daß sie laufen und nicht matt werden, daß sie wandeln und nicht müde werden” (31; They who await upon the Lord receive new strength, that they soar up with wings like eagles, that they run and do not faint, that they walk and do not grow weary). In the aria text, this reads:

  Endlich, endlich wird mein Joch 
  Wieder von mir weichen müßen. 
  Da krieg ich in dem Herren Kraft, 
  Da hab ich Adlers Eigenschaft, 
  Da fahr ich auf von dieser Erden 
  Und laufe sonder matt zu werden. 
  O gscheh es heute noch.
  
  Finally, finally, my yoke must 
  Fall away from me again.
  Then I shall in the Lord gain strength, 
  Then I shall have the eagle’s nature, 
  Then I shall soar aloft from this earth 
  And run without becoming faint.
  O may it happen even today.

  
  The last recitative begins with “Ich stehe fertig und bereit” (I stand ready and prepared), and it ends with “Wie wohl wird mir geschehn, / Wenn ich den Port der Ruhe werde sehn” (How good it will be for me / When I see the haven of rest) and immediately harks back to the opening aria: “Da leg ich den Kummer auf einmal ins Grab, / Da wischt mir die Tränen mein Heiland selbst ab.” In closing, the sixth strophe of Johann Franck’s 1653 hymn, “Du o schönes Weltgebäude” (You, O beautiful world building) encapsulates all the ideas of the entire cantata text, including the seafarer allegory:

  Komm, o Tod, du Schlafes Bruder,
  Komm und führe mich nur fort;
  Löse meines Schiffleins Ruder, 
  Bringe mich an sichern Port!
  Es mag, wer da will, dich scheuen, 
  Du kannst mich vielmehr erfreuen; 
  Denn durch dich komm ich herein 
  Zu dem schönsten Jesulein.
  
  Come, O death, you brother of sleep, 
  Come and just lead me away; 
  Release my little ship’s rudder,
  Bring me to safe haven!
  Let whoever wishes shun you, 
  You can instead delight me; 
  For through you I enter in
  To the loveliest little Jesus.

  
  This expressive libretto is entirely successful, conceptually as well as linguistically, and Bach’s composition exhausts its potentialities in every conceivable way. In the opening movement, the composer juxtaposes descending, heavily burdened figures ridden with sighs against a theme that struggles to remain upright with virtually Herculean effort. If the word “Kreuz” (cross) in the text is associated with a note with a sharp in front of it, this might be seen as somewhat naive symbolism. But it is surely more significant that this Kreuz-Ton (sharped note) is reached by a leap of an augmented interval, so that—exactly in the sense of the text—the exertion of energy and self-discipline is felt almost physically. In its conflict between exuberant forging ahead and softly submissive lament, the movement reaches its culmination at the text line “Da leg ich den Kummer auf einmal ins Grab” in a serene cheerfulness, like smiling through tears. The first recitative, with the allegory of the seafarer, is accompanied by wave-like tone-painting figures in the strings. At the line “Und wenn das wütenvolle Schäume sein Ende hat” (And when the raging surf comes to an end), the musical wave motion also ends, and serene chords accompany the line “So tret ich aus dem Schiff in meine Stadt.”
  
  The second aria is filled with an unbuttoned, joyous, concerted interplay between the obbligato oboe and the voice. The virtuosity demanded of the singer shows that Bach was dealing with a master of his craft. By all appearances, it was none other than Johann Christoph Samuel Lipsius, who began his studies at the University of Leipzig during Bach’s first year as cantor, participated in Bach’s church music as a bass and received a financial grant in return, and later became a member of the court chapel at Merseburg.³ The virtuoso bass aria stands in sharp contrast to what came before, as well as what follows. The final recitative, accompanied by strings, refers back after only a few measures to the opening movement’s conclusion, as suggested by the text. And only now does the enraptured “Da leg ich den Kummer auf einmal ins Grab” truly reach its conclusion—and with such intensity that the aria that follows runs the danger of seeming only like an intermezzo.
  
  The concluding chorale movement, removed from everything of this world, needs no commentary. It is among the most perfect that Johann Sebastian Bach ever wrote.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. Based on this text’s appearance in a recently discovered annual cantata text cycle published in 1728 in Nuremberg by Christoph Birkmann, a theology student at the University of Leipzig from 1724 to 1727, Christine Blanken (2015b, 46–48) argues that Birkmann is likely the text’s author.—Trans.↵
  2. Christine Blanken (2015a, 27) notes that Christoph Birkmann, before turning to theology, completed a disputation in mathematics on the motion of the sun around its own axis, making use of a navigational instrument called the Kreuzstab (cross-staff ).—Trans.↵
  3. Schulze (1984a, esp. 49).↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:21+00:00 Ich geh und suche mit Verlangen BWV 49 / BC A 150 12 Dialogue Cantata. Twentieth Sunday After Trinity. First performed 11/03/1726 in Leipzig (Cycle III). Text by C Birkmann. plain 2024-04-24T16:17:35+00:00 1726-11-03 BWV 49 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 08Trinity20 Dialogue Cantata Twentieth Sunday After Trinity BC A 150 Johann Sebastian Bach C Birkmann Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Ich geh und suche mit Verlangen, BWV 49 / BC A 150" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 464 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig III

  Twentieth Sunday after Trinity, November 3, 1726

  The dialogue cantata Ich geh und suche mit Verlangen BWV 49 (I go and seek you with longing) is for the twentieth Sunday after Trinity and was first performed on November 3, 1726, in Leipzig. The text, written by an unknown author,¹involves the Gospel reading of the Sunday, the parable of the royal wedding from Matthew 22: 

  And Jesus answered and spoke once more in parables to them, saying: The kingdom of Heaven is like a king who made a wedding feast for his son. And he sent forth his servants to call the guests to the wedding; and they did not want to come. Once again, he sent other servants out and said: Say to the guests: Look, I have prepared my meal; my oxen and fat calves are slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding! But they scorned it and went on their way, one to his field, the other to his shop; several seized his servants and mocked and killed them. When the king heard this, he became angry and sent forth his army and killed these murderers and burned their city. Then he said to his servants: The wedding is indeed ready, but the guests were not worthy of it. Therefore, go out on the streets and invite whomever you find and invite them to the wedding feast. And the servants went out on the streets and brought together whomever they found, evil and good, and the tables were all full. Then the king went in to greet the guests and saw there a person who was not wearing a wedding cloak and said to him: Friend, how did you come here and are not wearing a wedding cloak? But he fell silent. Then the king said to his servants: Bind him, hand and feet, and throw him out into the darkness! There will be his howling and gnashing of teeth. For many are called, but few are chosen. (1–14)

  
  In the cantata libretto, this parable appears only near the end; beforehand, the bridal mysticism of the Song of Songs is the main topic. According to the tradition of the unio mystica,² which began in the Middle Ages and was still very much alive in Bach’s era, Jesus and the Soul conduct a dialogue, lose one another, find one another again, and ultimately join with one another in intimate love. The theme of Jesus as bridegroom and the Soul as his bride—varied a hundredfold and appearing in sermons, devotional literature, commentaries, prayers, and hymns—appears in the libretto of our cantata in the form of recitatives, arias, and a chorale strophe with text interpolations. 
  
  The first aria serves as exposition of the “search motif” (Suchmotiv):

  Ich geh und suche mit Verlangen
  Dich, meine Taube, schönste Braut.
  Sag an, wo bist du hingegangen,
  Daß dich mein Auge nicht mehr schaut?
  
  I go and seek with longing
  You, my dove, fairest bride.
  Tell me, where have you gone,
  That my eye no longer sees you?

  
  The following recitative first sees the lovers still separated. Jesus begins:

  Mein Mahl ist zubereit’
  Und meine Hochzeitstafel fertig,
  Nur meine Braut ist noch nicht gegenwärtig.
  
  My meal is prepared,
  And my wedding table ready,
  Only my bride is not yet present.

  
  A bit later, he repeats his “Ich geh und suche mit Verlangen / Dich, meine Taube, schönste Braut.” The Soul approaches with “Mein Jesus redt von mir; / O Stimme, welche mich erfreut” (My Jesus speaks of me; / O voice that cheers me) and immediately begins a short dialogue that concludes with the statement “Mein Bräutigam, ich eile nun, / Die Hochzeitskleider anzutun” (My bridegroom, I now hasten, / To put on the wedding clothes). The metaphor of the wedding garment as symbol of salvation is further developed in the Soul’s aria:

  Ich bin herrlich, ich bin schön,
  Meinen Heiland zu entzünden.
  Seines Heils Gerechtigkeit
  Ist mein Schmuck und Ehrenkleid;
  Und damit will ich bestehn,
  Wenn ich werd im Himmel gehn.
  
  I am glorious, I am fair,
  To inflame my savior.
  The righteousness of his salvation
  Is my adornment and robe of honor;
  And with these I shall pass through
  When I will go to heaven.

  
  The ensuing dialogue, initiated by the Soul, first brings Jesus’s promise, inspired by a passage from the prophet Hosea:

  So bleibt mein Herze dir gewogen,
  So will ich mich mit dir
  In Ewigkeit vertrauen und verloben.
  
  Thus my heart remains devoted to you,
  Thus to you I will
  Engage and betroth myself in eternity.

  
  Alluding to the Sunday Gospel reading, the Soul responds:

  Wie wohl ist mir! 
  Der Himmel ist mir aufgehoben:
  Die Majestät ruft selbst und sendet ihre Knechte,
  Daß das gefallene Geschlechte
  Im Himmelssaal
  Bei dem Erlösungsmahl
  Zu Gaste möge sein.
  Hier komm ich, Jesu, laß mich ein!
  
  How happy I am!
  Heaven is reserved for me:
  Majesty itself calls and sends its servants
  So that the fallen race
  In the heavenly chamber
  At the meal of redemption
  May be guests.
  Here I come, Jesus, let me in!

  
  Jesus closes with “Sei bis in Tod getreu, / So leg ich dir die Lebenskrone bei” (Unto death be true, / Then I will set upon you the crown of life). In the concluding duet, Philipp Nicolai’s “morning star” hymn is uttered by the Soul:

  Wie bin ich doch so herzlich froh,
  Daß mein Schatz ist das A und O,
  Der Anfang und das Ende.
  Er wird mich doch zu seinem Preis
  Aufnehmen in das Paradeis;
  Des klopf ich in die Hände.
  Amen! Amen!
  Komm, du schöne Freudenkrone, bleib nicht lange!
  Deiner wart ich mit Verlangen.
  
  But how sincerely glad I am 
  That my treasure is the alpha and omega,
  The beginning and the end.
  He will indeed—to his praise—
  Take me into paradise;
  At that I clap my hands.
  Amen! Amen!
  Come, you beautiful crown of joy, do not delay for long!
  I await you with longing.

  
  These chorale verses are intertwined with a paraphrased word of the Lord from Jeremiah 31: “Ich habe dich je und je geliebt; darum habe ich dich zu mir gezogen aus lauter Güte” (3; I have loved you ever and ever; therefore, I have drawn you to me out of sheer loving-kindness). The version meant for Jesus in the cantata reads:

  Dich hab ich je und je geliebt,
  Und darum zieh ich dich zu mir.
  Ich komme bald,
  Ich stehe vor der Tür,
  Mach auf, mein Aufenthalt!
  
  You I have loved ever and ever,
  And therefore I draw you to me.
  I shall come soon,
  I stand before the door,
  Open up, my dwelling place!

  
  At the beginning of his composition Bach placed a concerto movement in E major for organ, string instruments, and an oboe d’amore. This is the last movement of a concerto whose opening and middle movements Bach had used two weeks earlier in the solo cantata for alto, Gott soll allein mein Herze haben BWV 169 (God alone shall have my heart). The first aria, devoted to the search motif, pairs the bass, the vox Christi, with the obbligato organ. While the voice seems to veer between confidently advancing forward and irritated questioning, the instrumental part often has to cover long and often tortuous paths.
  
  The first recitative becomes an arioso as the bass enters for a second time, adopting the 3
  8 meter of the preceding aria. With regard to the “Ehrenkleid” (robe of honor) that is the subject of its text, the ecstatic aria of the Soul, with oboe d’amore and violoncello piccolo, bestows a brilliant sonorous vestment upon the soprano. In the concluding duet, a lively concertante chorale setting of the melody from Philipp Nicolai’s Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern (How brightly gleams the morning star), the obbligato organ reassumes its position of primacy among all accompanying instruments.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. In 2015 Christine Blanken identified Christoph Birkmann as the librettist for BWV 49 and five other cantatas preceding the Advent season in 1726. Birkmann, a musically active student of theology at the University of Leipzig from December 1724 to September 1727 who regularly attended Bach’s performances, published an annual cycle of cantata texts in 1728 that contains thirty-one works known to have been performed in Leipzig during Birkmann’s time there, among which are twenty-three known cantatas by Bach. See Blanken (2015a).—Trans.↵
  2. Herbst (1958).↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:35:19+00:00 Man singet mit Freuden vom Sieg BWV 149 / BC A 181 8 St Michael's Day. First performed 09/29/1729 in Leipzig . Cycle IV "Picander Jahrgang" plain 2024-04-24T17:56:32+00:00 1729-09-29 BWV 149 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 06StMichael St Michael's Day BC A 181 Johann Sebastian Bach CF Henrici (Picander) Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Man singet mit Freuden vom Sieg, BWV 149 / BC A 181" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 548 Leipzig IV

  St. Michael’s Day, September 29, 1729 (1728?)

  
  The cantata Man singet mit Freuden vom Sieg in den Hütten der Gerechten BWV 149 (There is joyous singing of victory in the tents of the righteous) is for St. Michael’s Day and probably originated in September 1729. Bach took its text from a collection the Leipzig postal secretary and skilled poet Christian Friedrich Henrici had begun to publish in the early summer of the previous year under the title Cantaten auf die Sonn- und Fest-Tage durch das gantze Jahr, verfertiget durch Picandern (Cantatas for the Sundays and feast days of the entire year, prepared by Picander). He provided the collection with a descriptive foreword: “In honor of God, in response to the desire of good friends, and to promote much devotion, I have decided to prepare the present cantatas. I have undertaken this plan even more happily, since I may flatter myself that perhaps whatever is lacking in poetic charm will be replaced by the loveliness of the incomparable Herr Music Director Bach and will resound in the most important churches of devout Leipzig.”¹ It remains unclear whether Henrici/Picander undertook this project with the agreement of the cantor of St. Thomas School, whether Bach could have promised to compose the entire annual cycle, or to what extent he was in any position to fulfill such a promise. The collection was published in four parts in 1728–29 and once again a few years later with the texts in a different order. 
  
  Even today scholars do not agree whether the texts provided Bach with the basis for his fourth annual cycle of cantatas or whether the cantor of St. Thomas School simply used a selection from Picander’s offering. If Bach indeed set the entirety of Picander’s annual text cycle to music, then this portion of his oeuvre must be regarded as lost for the most part. Scarcely ten compositions²—about a sixth of a complete cycle—can be documented at present.³
  
  Hence our cantata is one of those works that may be all that remains of what was once a much larger entity. Its text begins with a reference to verses from Psalm 118, which Martin Luther particularly treasured. These verses speak of the faith struggle of the righteous, that is, the community of believers, and place faith struggle and victory in an experiential context: “Man singet mit Freuden vom Sieg in den Hütten der Gerechten: ‘Die Rechte des Herrn behält den Sieg, die Rechte des Herrn ist erhöhet, die Rechte des Herrn behält den Sieg!’” (15; There is joyous singing of victory in the tents of the righteous: “The right hand of the Lord gains victory, the right hand of the Lord is exalted, the right hand of the Lord gains victory!”). Normally these verses belong to the Gospel reading for Easter, as the Lutheran exegetic tradition places them in the context of Christ and his work of salvation—but not with the battle between the archangel Michael and the dragon. In this sense, the first aria only touches upon the Gospel reading for St. Michael’s Day and places the emphasis on the completion of the work of salvation:

  Kraft und Stärke sei gesungen
  Gott, dem Lamme, das bezwungen
  Und den Satanas verjagt,
  Der uns Tag und Nacht verklagt.
  Ehr und Sieg ist auf die Fromme 
  Durch des Lammes Blut gekommen.
  
  May power and strength be sung
  To God, to the lamb, who has conquered
  And driven away Satan,
  Who accused us day and night.
  Honor and victory have come to the devout
  Through the blood of the lamb.

  
  The ensuing recitative addresses the concerns of St. Michael’s Day more specifically, as it describes the angel as a protective, defensive force and evokes the scenario of the protective circle of chariots:

  Ich fürchte mich
  Vor tausend Feinden nicht,
  Denn Gottes Engel lagern sich
  Um meine Seiten her;
  Wenn alles fällt, wenn alles bricht,
  So bin ich doch in Ruh.
  Wie wär es möglich zu verzagen?
  Gott schickt mir ferner Roß und Wagen
  Und ganze Herden Engel zu.
  
  I am not afraid
  Before a thousand enemies,
  For God’s angels are encamped
  Around me on all sides;
  When all fails, when everything breaks,
  Then I am still in repose.
  How would it be possible to despair?
  God sends me further horses and chariots
  And entire hosts of angels.

  
  The associated aria generalizes:

  Gottes Engel weichen nie,
  Sie sind bei mir allerenden.
  Wenn ich schlafe, wachen sie, 
  Wenn ich gehe,
  Wenn ich stehe,
  Tragen sie mich auf den Händen.
  
  God’s angels never retreat;
  They are with me everywhere.
  When I sleep, they are on watch,
  When I go, 
  When I stay,
  They carry me in their hands.

  
  With its prayer that the repentant sinner might, in his last days, be assured of an angel’s escort, the second recitative alludes to the first lines of the closing chorale, which read: 

  Ach Herr, laß dein lieb Engelein
  Am letzten End die Seele mein
  In Abrahams Schoß tragen.
  
  Ah, Lord, let your dear angel
  At my last carry my soul
  Into Abraham’s bosom.

  
  These lines are from Martin Schalling’s 1569 hymn Herzlich lieb hab ich dich, o Herr (Sincerely do I love you, O Lord). The recitative reads as follows:

  Ich danke dir,
  Mein lieber Gott dafür;
  Dabei verleihe mir,
  Daß ich mein sündlich Tun bereue,
  Daß sich mein Engel drüber freue,
  Damit er mich an meinem Sterbetage
  In deine Schoß zum Himmel trage.
  
  I thank you,
  My dear God, for this;
  Grant me as well 
  That I repent my sinful actions,
  That my angel may rejoice over it
  And thus carry me on my death day
  Into your bosom in heaven.

  
  With a reference to Jeremiah 21:11, the ensuing aria completes the thought:

  Seid wachsam, ihr heiligen Wächter,
  Die Nacht ist schier dahin.
  Ich sehne mich und ruhe nicht, 
  Bis ich vor dem Angesicht 
  Meines lieben Vaters bin.
  
  Be vigilant, you holy watchmen,
  The night is nearly gone.
  I yearn and will not rest
  Until I am before the countenance
  Of my dear father.

  
  It appears that Johann Sebastian Bach needed two attempts before the opening movement of our cantata gained its final form. He originally planned a wide-ranging new composition and had already sketched out the contours of the instrumental introduction on paper when, for unknown reasons, he abandoned the sketch and retreated to a composition already on hand. Remarkably, he decided on the cheerfully idyllic closing movement to the Hunt Cantata BWV 208, nearly two decades old. He transposed the earlier work from F major to D major, replacing the two horns with three trumpets and drums and the ode to Duke Christian of Weissenfels, written by Salomon Franck, with the multipartite psalm text. Whether and to what extent this particularly arduous variant of the parody process may have actually gained Bach any reduction of effort remains a matter of debate among scholars even today.
  
  The beginning of the “Kraft und Stärke sei gesungen” for bass and basso continuo with violone follows the genre “aria with heroic affect” (Aria mit heroischen Affekten). However, the overbearing triadic motive is accompanied by a melodic gesture moving up and down in narrow steps, which represents the textual idea of the blood of the lamb in tone painting. Remarkably, the same figure appears in an extended, animatedly dance-like aria for soprano, in which it takes a downright dominating position and thereby connects the text dealing with “Gottes Engeln” (God’s angels) with the ideas in the preceding aria.
  
  The melody of the third aria movement, a Nachtstück (night piece), as its text suggests, is unusually catchy. This determines the overall impression, despite the manifold imitation between the two voices, which intensifies the text, and in spite of the rather melancholy coloration that the bassoon contributes to the quartet texture.
  
  Strangely, the closing chorale does not return to D major, the opening key, but allows the cantata to end in C major. This may be due to an oversight by a copyist; the sources of the cantata are all copies.⁴ The trumpets and kettledrums would have had to be retuned at the very end—only to allow a brief two-bar cadenza to be heard again at the end.

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  Footnotes

  1. “Gott zu Ehren, dem Verlangen guter Freunde zur Folge und vieler Andacht zur Beförderung habe ich entschlossen, gegenwärtige Cantaten zu verfertigen. Ich habe solches Vorhaben desto lieber unternommen, weil ich mir schmeicheln darf, das vielleicht der Mangel der poetischen Anmuth durch die Lieblichkeit des unvergleichlichen Herrn Capell-Meisters Bachs, dürfte ersetzet, und diese Lieder in den Haupt-Kirchen des andächtigen Leipzigs angestimmet werden.”—Trans.↵
  2. Two texts from Picander’s 1727–28 collection also appear in an annual text cycle published by Christoph Birkmann in Nuremberg in 1728: Welt, behalt du das Deine, for Quasimodogeniti, and Ich kann mich besser nicht versorgen, for Misericordia Domini. Birkmann studied theology at the University of Leipzig and regularly attended Bach’s performances at St. Thomas. He did not own Picander’s collection, suggesting strongly that Birkmann heard these previously unknown compositions performed by Bach. See Blanken (2015a).—Trans.↵
  3. Häfner (1975).↵
  4. Hofmann (2000).↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:19+00:00 Geist und Seele wird verwirret BWV 35 / BC A 125 7 Solo Cantata. Twelfth Sunday After Trinity. First performed 09/08/1726 in Leipzig (Cycle III). Text by GC Lehms. plain 2024-04-24T16:07:26+00:00 1726-09-08 BWV 35 Leipzig 50.979493, 11.323544 05Trinity12 Solo Cantata Twelfth Sunday After Trinity BC A 125 Johann Sebastian Bach GC Lehms Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Geist und Seele wird verwirret, BWV 35 / BC A 125" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 389 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig III

  Twelfth Sunday after Trinity, September 8, 1726

  Geist und Seele wird verwirret BWV 35 (Spirit and soul are bewildered), a composition for the twelfth Sunday after Trinity, belongs to a type not commonly found in the work of Johann Sebastian Bach: the solo cantata. “Solo” relates to the setting of the vocal part; “cantata” means, literally, that genre, sharply defined textually and musically, which, in the words of Erdmann Neumeister in 1702, “looks no different from a piece from an opera, composed of recitatives and arias.”¹ Textually, cantatas so defined dispense with biblical passages and chorale strophes, and musically they dispense with chorale melodies. The librettist’s first concern is the expression of personal devoutness, a very personal sort of devotion, a kind of meditation on the worship service in which original scripture takes its undisputed place.
  
  In its original form, the cantata libretto is entitled Andacht auf den zwölfften Sonntag nach Trinitatis (Devotion on the twelfth Sunday after Trinity). In early September 1726, Bach took it from the collection Gottgefälliges Kirchen-Opffer (Church offering pleasing to God), printed in 1711 in Darmstadt. On a few occasions during his time at Weimar, Bach drew upon this annual cycle of texts, which he undoubtedly acquired soon after its appearance. In late 1725 he once again took the volume in hand and began to set more texts to music from this somewhat dated collection. Geist und Seele wird verwirret is the last documented example in this series that began in 1725 and ended the following year.²
  
  As usual, the libretto authored by Georg Christian Lehms takes up the scripture of the day. The Gospel reading is found in Mark 7 and gives the account of the miraculous healing of a deaf-mute:

  And as he went out again out of the area of Tyrus and Sidon, he came to the Sea of Galilee, in the region of Decapolis. And they brought to him a deaf person, who was mute, and they asked him to lay a hand upon him. And he took him away from the crowd, and placed a finger in his ears, and spat, and touched his tongue. And he looked up to heaven and sighed, and spoke to him Ephphatha! Which is: Stand up! And immediately his ears opened, and the bond of his tongue was loosened, and he spoke plainly. And he forbade them, that they should tell no one. The more, however, he forbade, the more widespread it became. And they were astonished beyond measure and spoke: He has made everyone well again: he made the deaf to hear and the mute to speak. (31–37)

  Lehms’s cantata libretto is concerned with the interpretation and practical application of this brief Gospel account. In the first aria, the suffering of the deaf-mute is depicted not as the result of an illness but metaphorically as speechless with terror before the omnipotence of God:

  Geist und Seele wird verwirret,
  Wenn sie dich, mein Gott, betracht’,
  Denn die Wunder, so sie kennet, 
  Und das Volk mit Jauchzen nennet,
  Hat sie taub und stumm gemacht.
  
  Spirit and soul are bewildered
  When they consider you, my God,
  For the wonders that they know
  And the people name with exultation
  Has made them deaf and dumb.

  
  In spite of its rather daring treatment of German grammar,³ the concern of this beginning is clear. “Wondering” in the face of what is not rationally understandable, of what is accessible only to faith, is the subject of the ensuing recitative text:

  Ich wundre mich;
  Denn alles, was man sieht,
  Muß uns verwundrung geben.
  Betracht ich dich, 
  Du teurer Gottessohn,
  So flieht
  Vernunft und auch Verstand davon.
  
  I am amazed;
  For everything that one sees
  Must fill us with astonishment.
  If I consider you,
  You dear son of God,
  Then flee 
  Reason and also understanding therefrom.

  
  And later:

  Dir ist kein Wunderding auf dieser Erde gleich.
  Den Tauben gibst du das Gehör,
  Den Stummen ihre Sprache wieder,
  Ja, was noch mehr, 
  Du öffnest auf ein Wort die blinden Augenlider.
  Dies, dies sind Wunderwerke,
  Und ihre Stärke 
  Ist auch der Engel Chor nicht mächtig auszusprechen.
  
  To you no wondrous thing on this earth is equal.
  To the deaf you give hearing,
  To the dumb their speech again,
  Yes, and what is more, 
  You open at a word the eyelids of the blind.
  These, these are works of wonder,
  And their power
  Even the choir of angels is not mighty enough to express.

  
  The second aria takes up the thanksgiving for the blessings of God as expressed at the end of the Gospel reading, hewing closely to the words of the evangelist:

  Gott hat alles wohlgemacht.
  Seine Liebe, seine Treu
  Wird uns alle Tage neu.
  Wenn uns Angst und Kummer drücket,
  Hat er reichen Trost geschicket,
  Weil er täglich für uns wacht.
  Gott hat alles wohlgemacht.
  
  God has done all things well.
  His love, his faithfulness
  Is renewed for us every day.
  When fear and sorrow oppress us, 
  He has sent us lavish comfort,
  Since daily he watches over us.
  God has done all things well.

  
  The first-person point of view ventured occasionally in the first recitative—entirely appropriate to a solo cantata—intensifies in the second recitative to become an urgent, personal plea:

  Ach starker Gott, laß mich
  Doch dieses stets bedenken, 
  So kann ich dich
  Vergnügt in meine Seele senken.
  
  Ah, mighty God, let me
  Consider this constantly,
  Then I can 
  Contentedly sink you
  Into my soul.

  
  God should soften the unrepentant heart and enable true listening and speaking:

  Damit ich diese Wunderzeichen
  In heilger Andacht preise
  Und mich als Erb und Kind erweise.
  
  That I might these wondrous signs
  In holy devotion praise 
  And show myself to be your heir and child.

  
  The concluding aria begins with a logical continuation, “Ich wünsche nur bei Gott zu leben” (I only wish to live with God), but then ends rather abruptly with thoughts of death:

  Mein liebster Jesu, löse doch
  Das jammerreiche Schmerzensjoch
  Und laß mich bald in deinen Händen
  Mein martervolles Leben enden.
  
  My dear Jesus, but release
  The sorrow-rich yoke of suffering
  And let me soon, in your hands,
  End my tormented life. 

  
  In composing this text, which remains mostly in the immediate sphere of the Sunday Gospel reading, Bach was not content with the classic five-movement scheme of Lehms’s text, three arias with two recitatives. Instead, he gave the entire work more weight by including free concerto movements. Expanding the number of movements to seven made a two-part structure possible (if rather casually); the first part, extending through the second aria, would be performed before the sermon, while the second part, beginning with the second recitative, would be performed afterward. It is not at all clear that this rather rustically accomplished division of the text accorded with the intentions of the librettist.
  
  An energetic concerto movement begins the cantata, with oboes, strings, and concertante organ. The treatment of the keyboard instrument clearly shows that the piece is an arrangement of an older version set for melody instrument. The range and other characteristics indicate that the oboe was probably the original instrument. However, this insight becomes problematic if applied to the second movement, an aria in the style of a siciliano. The upper voice of the organ part—a descendant from an older instrumental part, now lost—here has extended virtuoso passages that demand a very wide range that is difficult to reconcile with a woodwind instrument. The fact that the voice in this movement, “Geist und Seele wird verwirret,” was added later to what was originally a concerto should not be overlooked. As a consequence, certain means of text interpretation one might have otherwise expected are not to be found: for instance, the title line, “Geist und Seele wird verwirret,” completely avoids what would seem obvious, namely, a harmonic or melodic depiction of “confusion.” There is, however, plenty of leeway for the highlighting and interpretation of individual words such as “Jauchzen” (rejoice).
  
  Another surprise attends the second aria, “Gott hat alles wohlgemacht” (God has done all things well). Here, the voice is joined by a lively obbligato part rich with figuration, once again performed by the organ. Even though there is no reason to suppose that it might be a modified version of an older model, we should not overlook the remarkable circumstance that the concertante organ part actually is appropriate to a string instrument, perhaps one suited to playing in higher registers, such as the violoncello piccolo. What particular circumstances may have caused Bach to give this part as well to the organ cannot be established today.
  
  Ignoring its original function, a dance-like, binary concerto movement, unmistakably the finale of an instrumental concerto, opens the cantata’s second half. The exuberant upbeat to this half of the cantata is matched by the cheerful aria that concludes it, “Ich wünsche nur bei Gott zu leben,” whose core ideas are expressed by the text lines “Ein fröhliches Hallelujah / Mit allen Engeln anzuheben” (To raise a joyous Hallelujah / With all the angels). The text passages “jammerreiche Schmerzensjoch” (sorrow-rich yoke of suffering) and “martervolles Leben” (tormented life) only seem to be overplayed here; in reality, the intent is to focus on an overcoming filled with confidence in faith. This explains why, although the cantata begins in D minor, it untypically leaves this key area to end in C major.

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  Footnotes

  1.  “nicht anders aussieht als ein Stück aus einer Oper, von stylo recitativo und Arien zusammengesetzt.”—Trans.↵
  2. The text of Geist und Seele sind verwirret also appears in the recently discovered annual text cycle published by Christoph Birkmann in 1728, which reflects Bach’s Leipzig performance calendar between Advent 1724 and Epiphany 1727. See Blanken (2015a).—Trans.↵
  3. The third-person plural pronoun “sie” calls for verb forms “betrachten” and “kennen”; however, in order to rhyme with “nennet” and “gemacht,” they become “kennet” and “betracht’.”—Trans.↵