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Mein liebster Jesus ist verloren BWV 154 / BC A 29
First Sunday after Epiphany, January 9, 1724
The text of this cantata, which originated in 1724, takes up the Gospel reading for the Sunday after Epiphany, found in Luke 2, the story of the twelve-year-old Jesus in the Temple:And his parents went to Jerusalem every year at the feast of Easter. And when he was twelve years old, they went up to Jerusalem after the custom of the feast. And when the days had been completed, and they went home again, the child Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, and his parents knew it not. They believed, however, that he was among companions, and went a day’s journey distant, and sought him among their kinfolk and acquaintances. And when they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem, and sought him. And it came to pass, that after three days they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, listening to them, and asking them questions. And all that heard him were astonished at his understanding and answers. And when they saw him, they were angry: and his mother said to him, my son, why have you done this to us? See, thy father and I have sought thee with pains. And he said unto them, What is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I must be about my Father’s business? And they did not understand the word that he spoke with them. And he went down with them, and came to Nazareth, and was subject unto them: but his mother kept all these words in her heart. And Jesus increased in wisdom, age, and grace, with God and man. (41–52)
The unknown librettist draws upon the themes of loss, of seeking, of finding again from this account and individualizes it, changing the perspective to the first person, in the sense of the mysticism of the Song of Songs and its interpretive tradition. What is described in the Gospel reading as an accidental loss of contact during a long journey is conceptualized in the cantata text as a force majeure, an unavoidable calamity. Accordingly, the first aria comments upon it and indeed with a clear allusion to Johann Rist’s chorale text “O Ewigkeit du Donnerwort, / O Schwert, das durch die Seele bohrt” (O eternity, you thunderous word, / O sword that pierces through the soul):
Mein liebster Jesus ist verloren:
O Wort, das mir Verzweiflung bringt,
O Schwert, das durch die Seele dringt,
O Donnerwort in meinen Ohren.
My beloved Jesus is lost,
O word that brings to me dismay,
O sword that pierces my soul,
O thunderous word in my ears.
This linkage is convincing insofar as the formulation “sword piercing the soul” itself comes from the second chapter of Luke and not far from the reading for the first Sunday after Epiphany. The ensuing recitative adopts the tone of the Song of Songs:
Wo treff ich meinen Jesu an,
Wer zeiget mir die Bahn,
Wo meiner Seele brünstiges Verlangen,
Mein Heiland, hingegangen?
Where shall I meet my Jesus,
Who will show me the path
Where my soul’s most ardent desire,
My savior, is gone?
One easily recognizes here the passage “Wo ist denn dein Freund hingegangen?” (Where, then, has your friend gone?) from the second part of the St. Matthew Passion BWV 244/30. The closing is rather dryly academic:
Kein Unglück kann mich so empfindlich rühren,
Als wenn ich Jesu soll verlieren.
No misfortune could so painfully disturb me,
Than if I should lose Jesus.
This is answered and commented upon by a strophe from Martin Jahn’s hymn Jesu, meiner Seelen Wonne (Jesus, my soul’s delight), particularly in its closing lines:
Wie verlanget meinem Herzen,
Jesulein, nach dir mit Schmerzen!
Komm, ach komm, ich warte dein,
Komm, o liebstes Jesulein!
How longs my heart,
Little Jesus, for you with pain!
Come, oh come, I await you,
Come, O dearest little Jesus!
The search for Jesus, vanished or in hiding, continues in an aria that views one’s own sins as the possible cause of the unwanted separation:
Jesu, laß dich finden,
Laß doch meine Sünden
Keine dicke Wolken sein,
Wo du dich zum Schrecken
Willst für mich verstecken,
Stelle dich bald wieder ein.
Jesus, let me find you,
Do not let my sins
Be a thick cloud
In which you, to my horror,
Would hide from me.
Reappear soon.
The urgent plea is heard immediately; the answer comes in the form of the propitious word of Christ that stands exactly in the middle of the Gospel reading: “Wisset ihr nicht, daß ich sein muß in dem, das meines Vaters ist?” (Did you not know that I must be about my Father’s business?). With this, the tortuous uncertainty is overcome, bringing an opportunity for thanksgiving, joy, and faith. “Dies ist die Stimme meines Freundes” (This is the voice of my friend) begins the following recitative, adopting almost literally a formulation from the Song of Songs:
Gott Lob und Dank!
Mein Jesu, mein getreuer Hort,
Läßt durch sein Wort
Sich wieder tröstlich hören.
Praise and thanks to God!
My Jesus, my faithful refuge,
Through his word
Makes himself to be heard again comfortingly.
The continuing flow of language gathers itself once again in an aria strophe:
Wohl mir, Jesus ist gefunden,
Nun bin ich nicht mehr betrübt.
Der, den meine Seele liebt,
Zeigt sich mir zur frohen Stunden.
Ich will dich, mein Jesu, nun nimmermehr lassen,
Ich will dich im Glauben beständig umfassen.
Blessed am I, Jesus is found,
Now I am no longer troubled.
He whom my soul loves
Appears to me at happy hours.
I will, my Jesus, now leave you nevermore,
I will constantly embrace you in faith.
In affirmation, the circle is closed by a strophe from Christian Keymann’s hymn Meinen Jesum laß ich nicht (My Jesus I shall not leave):
Jesum laß ich nicht von mir,
Geh ihm ewig an der Seiten;
Christus läßt mich für und für
Zu den Lebensbächlein leiten.
Selig, wer mit mir so spricht:
Meinen Jesum laß ich nicht.
I shall not let Jesus go from me,
I shall go always by his side,
Christ leads me forever and ever
To the stream of life.
Blessed is he who says with me:
My Jesus I shall not leave.
Bach’s composition traces the development of ideas in the libretto in all of its branches. It translates the drama of the initial situation into compelling musical language in the tenor aria “Mein liebster Jesus ist verloren”; then, above a variant of the chromatically descending lamento bass, it allows first the instruments, then the voice to give eloquent expression to the pain of the loss of Jesus. Dotted rhythms and frequent sighing suspensions give the movement the character of a slow funeral procession. The course takes a turn at the place in the text containing “Donnerwort” (thunderous word); a dull rumble in the form of tone repetitions here promises nothing good. Yet, undeterred, the aria returns to its lamenting beginning. That this opening movement brings in only the strings—not, as usual, the entire ensemble—is probably intended to help portray the condition of abandonment. A brief tenor recitative is followed by a simple four-part setting of the seventeenth-century melody Werde munter, mein Gemüte (Become cheerful, my soul).
In the alto aria “Jesu, laß dich finden” (Jesus, let yourself be found), the voice is joined by two oboi d’amore that move amicably and harmoniously in intervals of the third and sixth. The naivete and clarity of the voice leading are clearly associated with the text, in which sins must not become “dicke Wolken” (thick clouds). The absence of the otherwise requisite basso continuo and its replacement by a bassetto, a foundation part comprising violin and viola, might also be taken to be aimed at the ideas of transparency and lucidity mapped out in the text. But another interpretation is plausible: a texture without basso continuo lacks, as it were, a solid foundation and might be taken to symbolize the “wandering and seeking” in the text: “Jesu, laß dich finden.” It is therefore all the more surprising that Bach later obscured this symbol-laden texture by lowering the bassetto part by an octave, to the level of the continuo. It is possible that he did this for reasons related to performance, not as a result of having given up the original compositional idea. The utterance of Jesus, “Wisset ihr nicht,” is set as an arioso with multiple repetitions, as well as canonic constructions that embody the idea of “Das Gesetz” (the law). Traditionally, the voice of Christ is given to the bass, although here, strictly speaking, we have the utterance of the twelve-year-old Jesus in the Temple.
The second, wide-ranging tenor recitative is followed by the song of joy, “Wohl mir, Jesus ist gefunden” (Blessed I am, Jesus is found), which, in spite of the first-person singular text, is set as a duet for alto and tenor. There is a strong suspicion that this is in fact no original composition but a previously existing movement to which new text has been added. If one disregards the participation of the oboi d’amore (probably an ingredient of the Leipzig version), then the most likely explanation is that this duet goes back to a vocal work from Bach’s time at Köthen, before 1723. There are many parallel examples of this type of texture among the few surviving Köthen cantatas by Bach.
A second simple chorale movement concludes the cantata. Remarkable here is the treatment of the text. Instead of beginning with the line “Jesum laß ich nicht von mir” (I shall not let Jesus go from me), as the rhyme scheme demands, Bach has the line “Meinen Jesum laß ich nicht” (My Jesus I shall not leave) sung at the beginning, the title of the entire chorale. Whether this was a momentary lapse, or was indeed Bach’s intent, one cannot say.