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• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:22+00:00 Wachet, betet, betet, wachet BWV 70.2 / BC A 165 18 Twenty-sixth Sunday After Trinity. First performed 12/6/1716 in Weimar. Text by Salomon Franck. plain 2024-04-24T16:30:57+00:00 1716-12-06 BWV 70 Weimar 51.340199, 12.360103 10Trinity26 Twenty-sixth Sunday After Trinity BC A 165 Johann Sebastian Bach Salomo Franck Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Wacht, betet, betet, wachet, BWV 70 / BC A 165" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 505 James A. Brokaw II Weimar

  Twenty-Sixth Sunday after Trinity, November 21, 1723

  As it now exists, the cantata Wachet! betet! betet! wachet BWV 70.2 (Watch! pray! pray! watch) is assigned to the twenty-sixth Sunday after Trinity. It was first performed in Leipzig for this particular Sunday in late November 1723, one week before the first Sunday of Advent, the beginning of the new church year. However, most of the work was composed seven years earlier for the worship service in the castle church at Weimar. In this earlier form (BWV 70.1) it belongs to a group of three cantatas that Johann Sebastian Bach, then concertmaster, presented one week apart in December 1716.¹ This unusual flurry of performances is perhaps best explained by his desire to succeed the Kapellmeister in the Ernestine royal seat,² who had died at the beginning of the month, and to put his compositional capabilities on display—as well as his unusual stamina.
  
  Bach took all three texts from a collection by Salomon Franck that became available in late 1716, Evangelische Sonn- und Fest-Tages-Andachten. The remarkable feature of these 1716 texts by Salomon Franck is that they consist entirely of free poetry, except for the closing chorale. Thus they avoid biblical passages. An opening movement for chorus is followed by four arias, and a chorale strophe closes the libretto. In contrast to other cantata texts of the period—even those by Salomon Franck himself—these texts avoid not only biblical passages but also the fashionable poetic form of the recitative.
  
  The freely versified core element of the Weimar cantata Wachet! betet! betet! wachet—the opening chorus and the arias—is for the second Sunday in Advent, whose Gospel reading is found in Luke 21:25–36; it contains— following on Jesus’s speech about the destruction of Jerusalem—predictions about his future:

  And there shall be signs in the sun and moon and stars; and on the earth the people will be distressed, and they will have trepidation, and the sea and the waves will rage, and the people will faint for fear and in expectation of the things that shall happen on the earth, for also the powers of heaven will be in motion. And then they will see the Son of Man come in a cloud with great power and glory. When, however, this begins to happen, then look up and lift your heads, for your salvation draws near. And he recounted to them a parable: Look at the fig tree and all the trees: When they now begin to bud, you see them and notice that now summer is near. So also you: when you see these things happen, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I say to you: This generation shall not pass away until all is fulfilled. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away. Take heed of yourselves, however, that your hearts are not consumed with eating and drinking and with concerns for nourishment, lest that day come quickly upon you, for like a snare it will come over all that live on earth. So now watch at all times and pray that you might be worthy, to escape all that will happen, and to stand before the Son of Man.

  
  In accordance with this account, Salomon Franck’s cantata text is situated between fear and hope, at one moment calling up the end times, at the next longing for rescue through Jesus. The text of the opening chorus takes up the close of the Sunday Gospel reading “So seid nun wach allezeit und betet, daß ihr würdig werden möget” (So now watch at all times and pray that you might be worthy):

  Wachet! betet! betet! wachet! 
  Seid bereit
  Allezeit,
  Bis der Herr der Herrlichkeit 
  Dieser Welt ein Ende machet.
  
  Watch! pray! pray! watch! 
  Be prepared
  At all times
  Until the Lord of Glory 
  Makes an end of this world.

  
  With alarming immediacy in the first aria, the current dangerous situation is exemplified by the torment of the people of Israel in Egypt and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah:

  Wenn kömmt der Tag, an dem wir ziehen
  Aus dem Ägypten dieser Welt?    
  Ach! laßt uns bald aus Sodom fliehen,    
  Eh uns das Feuer überfällt! 
  Wacht, Seelen, auf von Sicherheit, 
  Und glaubt, es ist die letzte Zeit!
  
  When will come the day, when we will withdraw 
  Out of the Egypt of this world?
  Ah, let us flee soon from Sodom 
  Before the fire attacks us!
  Awaken, souls, out of complacency 
  And believe it is the end of time!

  The second aria speaks against this, with confidence in the foretold appearance of the Son of God:

  Laßt der Spötter Zungen schmähen, 
  Es wird doch und muß geschehen, 
  Daß wir Jesum werden sehen,
  Auf den Wolken, in den Höhen. 
  Welt und Himmel mag vergehen, 
  Christi Wort muß fest bestehen.
  
  Let the tongues of the mockers scorn, 
  Yet it will and must occur
  That we will see Jesus
  Upon the clouds, in the heights. 
  World and heaven may pass away, 
  Christ’s word must stand firm.

  The third aria paraphrases the words “sehet auf und erhebet eure Häupter” (look up and lift your heads) from the Gospel reading, while in the fourth aria the end of days is evoked:

  Seligster Erquickungstag,
  Führe mich zu deinen Zimmern. 
  Schalle, knalle, letzter Schlag,
  Welt und Himmel geht zu Trümmern! 
  Jesus führet mich zur Stille,
  An den Ort, da Lust die Fülle.
  
  Most blessed day of refreshment, 
  Lead me to your mansions.
  Resound, crack, final stroke, 
  World and heaven go to ruin.
  Jesus leads me to quiet,
  At the place where pleasure is abundant.

  
  Salomon Franck’s libretto closes with the fifth strophe of Christian Keymann’s 1658 hymn, Meinen Jesum laß ich nicht (I will not leave my Jesus).
  
  In contrast to Weimar, in Leipzig church music fell silent between the first Sunday of Advent and the first day of Christmas—the period known as tempus clausum. Bach thus had no further use for a cantata written for the second day of Advent. The late Trinity period suggested itself as an alternative, in particular the twenty-sixth Sunday after Trinity, whose Gospel reading in Matthew 25 contains Jesus’s speech about the Last Judgment, beginning with formulations that are similar to those of the Advent Gospel: “When, however, the Son of Man shall come in his glory and all holy angels with him, then he will sit upon the throne of his glory and all nations shall be gathered before him. And he will separate them from one another, just as a shepherd places the sheep to his right and the goats to his left” (31–32). The address to the righteous destined for eternal life culminates in the words “Was ihr getan habt einem unter diesen meinen geringsten Brüdern, das habt ihr mir getan” (Whatever you have done to one among these, the least of my brothers, that you have done to me), while the unmerciful meet their punishment with the justification, “Was ihr nicht getan habt einem unter diesen Geringsten, das habt ihr mir auch nicht getan” (Inasmuch as you have not done it for one of the least of these, you have not done it for me).
  
  Taking up these concepts of the fall from grace and the Last Judgment, a librettist, possibly in Leipzig but unknown by name, expanded Salomon Franck’s Advent libretto with four recitatives. These are formulated, respectively, as a reprimand to hardened sinners, a lament over the inadequacies of mortals, a threat of relentless punishment, and the confident hope in salvation. In addition, a strophe from the hymn Freu dich sehr, o meine Seele (Rejoice greatly, O my soul) was inserted so that the six-movement text of 1716 became an eleven-movement libretto, with two chorale strophes, four Leipzig recitatives, and five Weimar aria movements.
  
  Bach’s composition of this extensive libretto makes every effort to eliminate any discrepancy between the original components and those composed later. Even so, one cannot fail to recognize that the opening chorus, the arias, and even the concluding chorale clearly embody Bach’s “Weimar style.”
  
  Fanfare motives and restless rising and falling scales characterize the sense of expectation in the opening chorus, whereby on the word “betet” the harmony darkens and the motion seems to pause. The entire instrumental ensemble, comprising a trumpet, an oboe, and strings, is also used for the first recitative. Continuously interrupted by the excited tone repetitions of the stile concitato, the recitative begins as a castigation of obdurate sinners.³ It soon takes on a gentler tone for the “erwählte Gotteskinder” (chosen children of God), and for the phrase “Anfang wahrer Freude” (beginning of true joy), it includes an extended coloratura passage. The first aria about the withdrawal from the “Ägypten dieser Welt” (Egypt of this world), given to the alto, is characterized by a deep melancholy earnestness. Its key of A minor is closely related to E minor, the key of the soprano aria “Laßt der Spötter Zungen schmähen.” Here the voice is accompanied by a sonorous obbligato part formed by all the strings, out of which the concertante first violin emerges briefly or for longer sections. The first part of the cantata, to be performed before the sermon, closes with a simple chorale movement in the “Leipzig style” on the melody Wie nach einer Wasserquelle (As from a spring of water).
  
  The second half of the cantata begins with the tenor aria “Hebt euer Haupt empor” (Lift up your heads), its rather abrupt cheerfulness seeming to continue the text of the preceding chorale, “Freu dich sehr o meine Seele und vergiß all Not und Qual” (Rejoice greatly, O my soul, and forget all distress and torment). In the ensuing bass recitative, the apocalyptic scenario of the Last Judgment descends upon this apparently ideal world. Above plunging scales and anxiously diverging chords, the trumpet menacingly sounds the melody Es ist gewißlich an der Zeit (The time is certainly drawing near). Yet even here, Jesus’s mercy is not far away, and an extended coloratura evokes the joyousness with which the faithful can leave this earthly existence. Still, peace and blessedness must once more shrink before the horrors of the apocalypse as, in the three-part bass aria, the contrasts characterizing the two recitatives and the first part of the opening aria are heard again. The Leipzig style of the chorale at the end of the first half now steps aside for a movement in the “Weimar style.” The four choral voices are joined by three independent parts in the strings in their high registers so that the cantata is granted a full-textured finale in seven voices.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. Early Weimar versions for the other two works, with the BWV2 designations BWV 147a and 186a, are not included in BWV3 because the editors decided against including “Werke, die Bach geschrieben haben könnte da sie ebenfalls in den WeimarerTextdrucken von 1714–1717” (works that Bach could have written, because their texts are preserved in Weimar publications of 1714–1717) (BWV3, xi). Moreover, “eineHäufung von drei Adventskantaten im Jahre 1716 entspricht aber nicht den Weimarer Gepflogenheiten monatlich neue Stücke [s. Dok. II Nr. 66]; für den 2. Advent 1716ist bereits die Kantate BWV 70.1 durch Weimarer Stimmen nachweisbar” (a group of three Advent cantatas for the year 1616 does not accord with the stipulations at Weimar for a new cantata every month [cf.Dok II Nr. 66]. BWV 70.1 is already documented for 2. Advent by Weimar performing parts) (BWV3, 232 [no. 186]).↵
  2. Weimar was among a large number of duchies in central Thuringia ruled by descendants of the Ernestine line of the House of Wettin. A helpful overview can be found in Marshall and Marshall (2016, xvi–xviii).—Trans.↵
  3. Stile concitato: “A style . . . defined by Monteverdi and employed in his Combattimentodi Tancredi e Clorinda (1624) and Madrigali guerrieri ed amorosi to express anger and warfare” (NHDM, s.v. “Concitato”).—Trans.↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:51+00:00 Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben BWV 147 / BC A 174 12 Visitation. First performed 07/02/1723 in Leipzig (Cycle I). Text by Salomon Franck. plain 2024-04-24T17:54:49+00:00 1723-07-02 BWV 147 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 04Visitation Visitation BC A 174 Johann Sebastian Bach Salomo Franck Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben, BWV 147 / BC A 174" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 524 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig I

  Visitation of Mary, July 2, 1723

  This cantata belongs to a small group of works that Johann Sebastian Bach composed near the end of his time at Weimar and that he reworked radically in his first few months after arriving in Leipzig in 1723, integrating them into his repertoire as cantor of St. Thomas School.¹ The reason for the revisions was the fact that he had written these cantatas for the second, third, and fourth Sundays of Advent, which made them unusable in Leipzig. Those three Sundays belonged to the tempus clausum, during which no musical performances took place in church. Our cantata’s text is found in a collection by Salomon Franck, the chief consistorial secretary at Weimar, that appeared in 1717 in Weimar and Jena with the title Evangelische Sonn- und Fest-Tages- Andachten (Protestant Sunday and feast day devotions). This print contains the cantata text Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben (Heart and mouth and deed and life) beneath the heading “Auf den vierten Advent-Sonntag” (On the fourth Sunday of Advent). In contrast to the ten-movement Leipzig work, the Weimar version comprises only six movements. After the opening chorus, four arias follow, and the piece closes with a strophe from Johann Kolrose’s Ich dank dir, lieber Herre (I thank you, dear Lord), whose text begins “Dein Wort lass mich bekennen” (Let me bear witness to your word).
  
  Salomon Franck’s cantata libretto is closely bound to the Gospel reading for the fourth Sunday of Advent. Found in John 1, it recounts the witness of John the Baptist. The opening chorus in Franck’s libretto alludes to this foundational idea with the lines “Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben / Muß von Christo Zeugnis geben” (Heart and mouth and deed and life / Must bear witness of Christ).
  
  The revision of the Advent cantata, probably composed in December 1716, to a cantata for the Visitation of Mary required extensive alterations to the text in order to produce a connection to the Gospel reading for that feast day. This Gospel reading is found in Luke 1 and tells of Mary’s visit with Elizabeth. The account closes with Mary’s song of praise, known in Latin as the Magnificat.
  
  The unknown arranger in Leipzig inserted substantial portions of this canticle into the new version of the cantata libretto. The recitative that follows the brief Weimar opening chorus thus begins:

  Gebenedeiter Mund!
  Maria macht ihr Innerstes der Seelen 
  Durch Dank und Rühmen kund;
  Sie fänget bei sich an, des Heilands Wunder zu erzählen, 
  Was er an ihr als seiner Magd getan.
  
  Blessed mouth!
  Mary makes her innermost soul 
  Known by thanksgiving and praise;
  She begins with herself to tell of the savior’s wonders, 
  What he has done for her as his handmaiden.

  
  The corresponding place in Luke 1 reads “Meine Seele erhebet den Herrn” (46; My soul magnifies the Lord) and “denn er hat die Niedrigkeit seiner Magd angesehen” (48; for he has looked upon the lowliness of his maid), as well as “denn er hat große Dinge an mir getan” (49; for he has done great things for me). As the recitative continues, it leaves this tone and ventures the possibility of denial. This foreshadows the following aria, whose second part deals with exactly this sort of denial. The first part, on the other hand, is devoted to the confession of belief:

  Schäme dich, o Seele, nicht, 
  Deinen Heiland zu bekennen 
  Soll er dich die seine nennen
  Vor des Vaters Angesicht.
  
  Be not ashamed, O soul,
  To acknowledge your savior 
  Should he name you as his own 
  Before the Father’s countenance.

  
  These are Salomon Franck’s formulations, although slightly moderated: the original version of 1717 reads, in reference to the Song of Solomon, “Soll er seine Braut dich nennen / Vor des Vaters Angesicht” (Should he name you his bride / Before the Father’s countenance). The beginning of the ensuing recitative paraphrases another section from the Canticle of Mary. Luke 1:51 reads: “Er übet Gewalt mit seinem Arm und zerstreut, die hoffärtig sind in ihres Herzens Sinn. Er stößt die Gewaltigen vom Stuhl und erhebt die Niedrigen” (He shows power in his arm and disperses those who are arrogant in their heart’s mind. He throws the mighty from their seats and exalts the lowly), but the librettist writes:

  
  Verstockung kann Gewaltige verblenden, 
  Bis sie des Höchstens Arm von Stuhle stoßt; 
  Doch dieser Arm erhebt,
  Obschon vor ihm der Erde Kreis erbebt, 
  Hingegen die Elenden,
  So er erlößt.
  
  Obstinacy can blind the powerful
  Until the arm of the Most High throws them from their seats; 
  Yet this arm,
  Although the earth’s orb trembles before it, 
  Exalts the miserable,
  Whom he redeems.

  
  The associated aria deviates in two respects from the Weimar cantata.
  Here is Franck’s version:

  Bereite dir, Jesu, noch heute die Bahn! 
  Beziehe die Höhle
  Des Herzens, der Seele,
  Und blicke mit Augen der Gnade mich an.
  
  Prepare the way to you, Jesus, even today! 
  Move into the cavern
  Of the heart, of the soul,
  And look with eyes of grace upon me.

  
  In Leipzig that version became:

  Bereite dir, Jesu, noch itzo die Bahn, 
  Mein Heiland, erwähle
  Die gläubende Seele
  Und siehe mit Augen der Gnade mich an!
  
  Prepare the way to you, Jesus, even now, 
  My savior, choose
  The believing soul
  And look with eyes of grace upon me!

  
  Further, in the Leipzig libretto this aria changed places with the one that followed it in the Weimar text. The former, whose text begins “Hilf, Jesu, hilf daß ich auch dich bekenne” (Help, Jesu, help that I also acknowledge you), introduces the second half of the Leipzig cantata. The first half closes with a strophe from the chorale Jesu, meiner Seelen Wonne (Jesus, delight of my soul). In contrast to the two movements that precede it, the only recitative in the second half of the cantata does not take up the Canticle of Mary but rather the beginning of the Gospel reading for the feast day, Mary’s entrance into the house of Zacharia, and her first encounter with his pregnant wife, Elizabeth: “Und es begab sich, als Elisabeth den Gruß Marias hörte, hüpfte das Kind in ihrem Leibe” (Luke 1:41; And it came to pass, as Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the child in her body leaped). In closing with an expression announcing “Dank und Preis” (thanksgiving and praise), this recitative opens the way for an aria filled with praise and thanks:

  Ich will von Jesu Wundern singen 
  Und ihm der Lippen Opfer bringen, 
  Er wird nach seiner Liebe Bund
  Das schwache Fleisch, den irdschen Mund
  Durch heilges Feuer kräftig zwingen.
  
  I want to sing of Jesus’s wonders
  And to him bring offerings of the lips.
  He will, according to his covenant of love, 
  Subdue the weak flesh, the earthly mouth 
  Through his holy fire.

  
  This text had to be fundamentally reformulated by the Leipzig librettist so that the Weimar composition could be used again. What was required was the use of what is known as parody procedure, because the first version all too clearly alluded to the Gospel reading for Advent and the witness of John the Baptist:    

  Laß mich der Rufer Stimmen hören, 
  Die mit Johannes treulich lehren.
  Ich soll in dieser Gnadenzeit 
  Von Finsternis und Dunkelheit
  Zum wahren Lichte mich bekennen.
  
  Let me hear the callers’ voices, 
  Which, with John, teach faithfully. 
  I shall, in this time of grace,
  From gloom and darkness 
  Confess myself to the true light.

  
  The second part of the cantata closes as the first one did, with a strophe from Martin Janus’s hymn Jesu, meiner Seelen Wonne.
  
  Bach’s composition of this extensive libretto is a distinctive mix of older and newer movements. The opening chorus and four arias are of Weimar origin, as seen in the attributes of their text and musical style; in Leipzig the four recitatives were added, as well as the chorale movements closing the first and second parts of the cantata. The original Weimar closing chorale was discarded and lost.
  
  In spite of the brevity of its text, the opening chorus is spacious and complex in its design. An introductory sinfonia returns many times throughout the movement, enriched by a vocal component in a technique known as Choreinbau, in alternation with unaccompanied choral episodes and two fugal expositions.² This elegant and balanced architecture, which encompasses fewer than seventy measures, combines a delight in music making with a wealth of thematic invention and inimitable concentration.
  
  The four arias embody a procedure characteristic of Bach’s Weimar compositional style: they omit a formal da capo and only repeat the instrumental ritornello at the end. The first aria, “Schäme dich, o Seele, nicht,” is set for alto and oboe d’amore. The original Weimar version almost certainly used a different obbligato instrument. It has no small challenge in contending with the negative statements in its text. The soprano and tenor arias have head motives that are eloquently expressive and hence formative: the soprano voice, with its “Bereite dir, Jesu, noch itzo die Bahn,” is assisted by a solo violin; the tenor, accompanied only by basso continuo, has the even shorter and extremely pregnant “Hilf, Jesu, hilf.” Bach added an obbligato trumpet to the bass aria, the next to last movement in the cantata. In view of this, in a secular context the aria could be a vehicle for the allegorical figure of Fama, the personification of Fame. Its song of praise within a church cantata achieves, at minimum, the special status of “music within music.”
  
  The movements that close both halves of the cantata are identical musically. In them, the vocal component is embedded in a sonorous, hovering figuration of strings and woodwinds. That these choral movements seem rather out of place today has less to do with the composition itself than with its reception history and is the inevitable result of wearing out a favorite piece.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. The Weimar early version with BWV2 designation BWV 147a. . . is not included in BWV3 because only the first movement is transmitted in the autograph score. . . . [W]hether other movements existed can no longer be determined. BWV3 (192, no. 147). —Trans.↵
  2. Choreinbau (choral embedding) is a technique in which the instruments play the ritornello while the newly added chorus sings independent material.—Trans.↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:18+00:00 Aergre dich, O Seele, nicht BWV 186 / BC A 108 10 Seventh Sunday After Trinity. First performed 07/11/1723 in Leipzig (Cycle I). Text by Salomon Franck. plain 2024-04-24T17:28:45+00:00 1723-07-11 BWV 186 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 05Trinity07 Seventh Sunday After Trinity BC A 108 Johann Sebastian Bach Salomo Franck Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Ärgre dich, O Seele, nicht, BWV 186 / BC A 108" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 335 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig I

  Seventh Sunday after Trinity, July 11, 1723

  This cantata, Ärgre dich, o liebe Seele, nicht BWV 186 (Do not be offended, O dear soul), belongs to that small group of church music compositions that Johann Sebastian Bach composed near the end of his time at Weimar. He revised these cantatas heavily in the first few months of his activity as cantor of St. Thomas School at Leipzig and integrated them with his Leipzig cantata repertoire.¹ The reason for the transformations was the fact that the cantatas were written for the second to the fourth Sundays in Advent and could not be reused in Leipzig, where those three Sundays belonged to what was known as the tempus clausum, during which no musical performances took place in church. A text collection indicates what our cantata originally looked like. Published in Weimar and Jena in 1717 under the title Evangelische Sonn- und Fest-Tages-Andachten (Protestant Sunday and feast day devotions) by the Weimar chief consistory secretary, Salomon Franck, the print contains the cantata text Ärgre dich, o liebe Seele (Do not be offended, O dear soul) with the heading “Auf den dritten Advent-Sonntag” (On the third Sunday of Advent). In contrast to the Leipzig version, which has eleven movements, the Weimar version has only six. Following the opening chorus there are four arias, and the libretto concludes with a strophe from Ludwig Helmbold’s hymn Von Gott will ich nicht lassen (From God I will not leave), whose text begins “Darum ich schon dulde / Hie Widerwärtigkeit” (Therefore, if I even endure / Adversity here). Salomon Franck’s cantata libretto is closely bound to the Gospel reading for the third Sunday of Advent, the account in the eleventh chapter of Matthew of the imprisonment of John the Baptist. His reported question to Jesus, “Bist du, der da kommen soll?” (Are you the one who should come?), is quoted literally in the first aria of Franck’s libretto. The title line, “Ärgre dich, o liebe Seele, nicht” (Do not take offense, O dear soul), alludes to Jesus’s answer, which reads in part, “Selig ist, der sich nicht an mir ärgert” (Blessed is he who does not take offense at me).
  
  The transformation of the Advent cantata, probably composed in December 1716, to a cantata for the seventh Sunday after Trinity called for extensive revisions to the text to establish a connection to that Sunday’s Gospel reading, which is found in the eighth chapter of Mark. It gives an account of the feeding of the four thousand:

  At that time, since many people were there and had nothing to eat, Jesus called his disciples to him and spoke to them: I feel sorry for these people, for they have now been with me for three days and have had nothing to eat; and if I allow them to leave me for home without having eaten, they shall faint by the way, for several have come from afar. His disciples answered him: From where shall we take bread here in the desert in order to satisfy them? And he asked them: How many loaves do you have? They spoke: Seven. And he ordered the people to sit on the earth. And he took the seven loaves, and gave thanks, and broke them, and gave them to his disciples to set before them, and they laid them before the people. And they had a few small fishes, and he gave thanks and commanded that they also be set before them. They ate and were filled, and they lifted the other pieces, seven baskets. And they were about four thousand who had eaten; and he released them. (1–9)

  
  The Leipzig author who transformed Salomon Franck’s cantata text into a libretto for the seventh Sunday after Trinity remains unidentified. He left the Weimar opening movement unchanged:

  Ärgre dich, o Seele, nicht
  Daß das allerhöchste Licht,
  Gottes Glanz und Ebenbild,
  Sich in Knechtsgestalt verhüllt,
  Ärgre dich, o Seele, nicht!
  
  Do not take offense, O soul,
  That the light of the Most High,
  God’s gleam and true image,
  Disguises itself in servant’s form.
  Do not take offense, O soul!

  
  The poet repeats a key word at the beginning of the ensuing recitative and thereby makes a quick transition to a description of the Gospel of Mark:

  Die Knechtgestalt, die Not, der Mangel
  Trifft Christi Glieder nicht allein,
  Es will ihr Haupt selbst arm und elend sein.
  
  The servant’s form, the need, the want
  Affect not only Christ’s members.
  Even their head himself wishes to be poor and needy.

  
  It closes with these lines:

  Wenn Armut dich beschwert,
  Wenn Hunger dich verzehrt,
  Und willst sogleich verzagen,
  So denkst du nicht an Jesum, an dein Heil.
  Hast du wie jenes Volk nicht bald zu essen,
  So seufzt du: Ach Herr, wie lange willst du mein vergessen?
  
  When poverty weighs you down,
  When hunger consumes you 
  And you would immediately despair,
  Then you do not think of Jesus, your salvation.
  If you, like these people, do not eat soon, 
  You sigh: Ah, Lord, how long will you forget me?

  
  Franck’s first aria underwent significant revision. Its original version begins with the questions referenced in Matthew, which John has Jesus convey:

  Bist du, der da kommen soll,
  Seelen-Freund, in Kirchen-Garten?
  Mein Gemüt is zweifelsvoll, 
  Soll ich eines andern warten?
  
  Are you the one who should come,
  Soul’s friend, into the church garden?
  My mind is full of doubt.
  Should I wait for another?

  
  In the Leipzig version, this becomes:

  Bist du, der mir helfen soll,
  Eilst du nicht, mir beizustehen? 
  Mein Gemüt ist zweifelsvoll,
  Du verwirfts vielleicht mein Flehen.
  
  If it is you who should help me,
  Do you not hurry to stand beside me?
  My mind is full of doubt.
  Perhaps you reject my pleading.

  
  A second interpolated recitative continues the reflection on the different ranks of bodily and spiritual nourishment:

  Ach daß ein Christ so sehr
  Vor seinen Körper sorgt!
  Was ist er mehr?
  Ein Bau von Erden,
  Der wieder muß zur Erde werden,
  Ein Kleid, so nur geborgt.
  
  Ah, that a Christian so deeply
  For his body cares!
  What more is he
  Than a structure of earth
  That must again to earth return,
  A garment that is only borrowed.

  
  The close describes the teachings of Jesus as “geistlich Manna” (spiritual manna), leading into an allusion to the thirty-fourth psalm:

  Drum, wenn der Kummer gleich das Herze nagt und frißt,
  So schmeckt und sehet doch, wie freundlich Jesus ist.
  
  Therefore, when affliction gnaws and devours the heart,
  Then taste and see how friendly Jesus is.

  
  The associated aria follows this train of thought, however, only after significant changes in wording. The Advent version makes reference to the “Messias” announced by John. This language is, of course, absent from the Leipzig version:

  Mein Heiland läßt sich merken
  In seinen Gnadenwerken.
  Da er sich kräftig weist,
  Den schwachen Geist zu lehren,
  Den Matten Leib zu nähren,
  Dies sättigt Leib und Geist.
  
  My savior makes himself apparent
  In his works of grace,
  Where he powerfully shows how
  To teach the weak in spirit
  To nourish the feeble body.
  This satisfies body and spirit.

   
  A strophe from the 1524 chorale by Paul Speratus, Es ist das Heil uns kommen her (Salvation has come to us), closes the first part of the cantata.
  
  If the first part emphasizes the importance of salvation as opposed to the needs of the body, the second part—to be performed after the sermon—turns to the vanity and pride of the world and contrasts them to the words of Jesus. Thus the first recitative begins:

  Es ist die Welt die große Wüstenei;
  Der Himmel wird zu Erz, die Erde wird zu Eisen,
  Wenn Christen durch den Glauben weisen,
  Daß Christi Wort ihr größter Reichtum sei.
  
  The world is a great wilderness;
  The heavens turn to brass, the earth turns to iron
  When Christians show through faith 
  That Christ’s word shall be their greatest wealth.

  
  Following this preparation, the associated aria in Salomon Franck’s version was adopted in the Leipzig cantata without change:

  Die Armen will der Herr umarmen
  Mit Gnaden hier und dort;
  Er schenket ihnen aus Erbarmen
  Den höchsten Schatz, das Lebenswort.
  
  The poor would the Lord embrace
  With grace here and there.
  He gives them out of mercy
  The highest treasure, the word of life.

  
  The last recitative also fits this tone. It begins: “Nun mag die Welt mit ihrer Lust vergehen” (Now may the world with its pleasures pass away); remarkably, this programmatic line has no rhyme partner. For its core idea, the movement draws upon a verse from Psalm 119:

  In Jesu Wort liegt Heil und Segen.
  Es ist ihres Fußes Leuchte und ein Licht auf ihren Wegen.
  
  In Jesus’s word lies salvation and blessing.
  It is a lamp for their feet and a light upon their paths.

  
  The final aria is once again the unrevised poetry of Salomon Franck:

  Laß, Seele, kein Leiden
  Von Jesu dich scheiden,
  Sei, Seele, getreu!
  Dir bleibet die Krone
  Aus Gnaden zu Lohne,
  Wenn du von Banden des Leibes nun frei.
  
  Let, soul, no suffering
  Separate you from Jesus.
  Soul, be true!
  For you the crown remains
  Your reward of grace
  When you are free of the fetters of the body.

  
  Another strophe from Paul Speratus’s chorale Es ist das Heil uns kommen her concludes the cantata.
  
  Bach’s composition of this wide-ranging source text proves to be a remarkable mixture of older and more recent movements. The opening chorus and four arias show evidence of their Weimar origin both in the nature of their texts and in the characteristics of their musical style. The four recitatives and the closing chorale movements of the first and second parts were all added to the composition in Leipzig.
  
  The multipartite construction within a single movement so often found in Bach’s Weimar compositions—normally coupled with a colorful set of musical ideas—also characterizes the first movement of our cantata. Following a quite densely woven instrumental introduction, the voices enter in dissonant intervals, projecting the text “Ärgre dich” almost too literally. The instruments immediately follow suit, but then the chorus immediately thickens to a fugal texture, performing the admonition “Ärgre dich, o Seele, nicht” penetratingly and with gravity. By contrast, the other lines of text are granted an episodic role.
  
  In the first aria, the voice is accompanied only by the basso continuo; in accordance with the original version of the text, the assignment of the vocal part to the bass is to be understood in terms of John the Baptist. In the Weimar version of the second aria, the tenor voice was accompanied by an oboe da caccia, whose dark, sonorous coloration evokes an unpretentious image of the Messiah as presented by the text. The Leipzig score prescribes violin and oboe for this instrumental part, thereby implying that the entire texture is transposed up an octave. In view of this truly awkward range, especially for the woodwind instrument, one suspects that Bach might have undertaken revisions afterward; unfortunately, there are no indications of what the results might have been.
  
  In the third aria, “Die Armen will der Herr umarmen,” the soprano is accompanied by the unison violins, mostly in their middle and lower registers. As so often, the frequent chromaticism in this obbligato part does not stand for pain and suffering but for “Erbarmen” (mercy), the key word of the third line of text. The last aria, a duet for soprano and alto accompanied by all the strings and woodwinds, exhibits a dance character. The key of C minor and density of texture correspond to the text and forbid any thought of happy relaxation.
  
  An extensive chorale arrangement closes the second half of the cantata, as it does the first half. In no way is it a “simple four-part setting”; instead, it shows its kinship to the opening movements of the chorale cantatas from Bach’s second year at Leipzig.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. The editors of BWV3 have concluded that “an alleged Weimar version [of BWV 186] recognized by BWV2 can only be traced back to the printed text of 1717 for the third Sunday after Advent. A group of three Advent cantatas for the year 1716 does not accord with the stipulations at Weimar for a new cantata every month (cf. BD II [no. 66]). BWV 70.1 is already documented for the second Sunday after Advent. The style, with Choreinbau (choral embedding), and the autograph manuscript speak for 1723 as the time of origin” (BWV3, 232 [no. 186]).—Trans.↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:19+00:00 Warum betrübst du dich, mein Herz BWV 138 / BC A 132 9 Fifteenth Sunday After Trinity. First performed 09/05/1723 in Leipzig (Cycle I). plain 2024-04-24T17:45:00+00:00 1723-09-05 BWV 138 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 05Trinity15 Fifteenth Sunday After Trinity BC A 132 Johann Sebastian Bach Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Warum betrübst du dich, mein Herz, BWV 138 / BC A 132" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 410 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig I

  Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity, September 5, 1723

  At first glance, it might seem to be a mistake in chronology that Bach composed the cantata Warum betrübst du dich, mein Herz BWV 138 (Why are you aggrieved, my heart) in September 1723, only a quarter year after entering office as cantor of St. Thomas. Considering the fact that in this cantata several strophes from the same chorale appear in various movements, it could easily be thought to be part of the chorale cantata annual cycle, begun in 1724. However likely this might seem, it is not true. Instead, the cantata belongs to a sequence of works in which Bach, right at the beginning of his tenure in Leipzig, methodically began to explore the possibilities of chorale texts and melodies, incorporating them in various experimental forms.¹ Our cantata makes use of only the first three of its hymn’s fourteen strophes in such a way, which would have been highly atypical for the choral cantata annual cycle. Otherwise, the cantata libretto hews closely to the Gospel reading for the fifteenth Sunday after Trinity.
  
  This Gospel reading is found in Matthew 6, not far from portions of the Sermon on the Mount, and contains urgent warnings against anxieties born of little faith:

  No one can serve two masters; either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will keep to the one and hold the other in contempt. You cannot serve God and mammon. Therefore I say to you: Do not worry about your life, what you will eat and drink, also not about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food? And the body more than clothing? See the birds beneath the heavens: they do not sow; they do not reap; they do not gather into barns; and still their heavenly father nourishes them. Are you not much more than they? Who is there among you who could add one cubit to his height because he worries about it? And why do you worry about clothing? Look upon the lilies of the field, how they grow: they do not work, also they do not spin. I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed as one of them. So then if God clothes the grass upon the field that stands today and tomorrow will be cast into the oven, should he not do much more for you, O you of little faith? Therefore you should not worry and say: What will we eat, what will we drink, with what will we clothe ourselves? The Gentiles all strive for such things. For your heavenly father knows that you have need for all of that. If you strive first for the kingdom of God and for his righteousness, then all these things will come to you. Therefore do not worry about the next day; for the coming day will care for its own. It is enough that each day has its own evils. (24–34)

  
  The core ideas of this Gospel account are incorporated in the 1560 church hymn occasionally attributed to Hans Sachs, Warum betrübst du dich, mein Herz which consequently became established as the main hymn for the fifteenth Sunday after Trinity. In hymnaries of the eighteenth century, it occasionally appears beneath the heading “In der Theurung” (In time of famine) or, in greater detail, “Trostreiche Gedanken über die Vorsorge Gottes, auch wider die Haus- und Bauch-Sorge” (Comforting thoughts on the providence of God, also against cares of home and hunger).
  
  The unidentified librettist of our cantata places the first strophe of the chorale at the beginning of his text:

  Warum betrübst du dich, mein Herz?
  Bekümmerst dich und trägest Schmerz
  Nur um das zeitliche Gut?
  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  Vertrau du deinem Herren Gott, 
  Der alle Ding erschaffen hat.
  
  Why are you aggrieved, my heart?
  Do you trouble yourself and suffer pain
  About a mere temporal matter?
  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
  You must trust in your Lord God,
  Who has created all things.

  After the second question, these words of encouragement “from above,” as it were, are interrupted by a lament in the form of recitative: free, madrigalian recitative verses that permit a good measure of lack of faith to gather against the admonitions of the Gospel reading:

  Ach, ich bin arm,
  Mich drücken schwere Sorgen.
  Von Abend bis zum Morgen
  Währt meine liebe Not.
  Daß Gott erbarm!
  Wer wird mich noch erlösen
  Vom Leibe dieser bösen 
  Und argen Welt?
  Wie elend ists um mich bestellt,
  Ach wär ich doch nur tot!
  
  Ah, I am wretched.
  Heavy cares oppress me.
  From evening until morning
  My accustomed need abides.
  May God have mercy!
  Who will yet deliver me
  From the belly of this evil 
  And wicked world?
  How miserable is everything around me.
  Ah, were I but already dead!

  
  Clearly recognizable in this passage is a verse from Romans 7: “Ich elender Mensch, wer wird mich erlösen vom Leibe dieses Todes?” (24; I, wretched person, who will deliver me from the body of this death?). Four weeks after our cantata originated, it served as text for the opening chorus of a Bach cantata for the nineteenth Sunday after Trinity (Ich elender Mensch, wer wird mich erlösen BWV 48).
  
  Following this chorale with interpolated recitative lines is the cantata’s second movement, the chorale’s second strophe, once again combined with lines of recitative, where the chorale functions again as advice “from above”:

  Er kann und will dich lassen nicht, 
  Er weiß gar wohl, was dir gebricht,
  Himmel und Erd ist sein.
  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
  Dein Vater und dein Herre Gott,
  Der dir beisteht in aller Not.
  
  He cannot and will not abandon you,
  He knows indeed well what you lack,
  Heaven and Earth are his.
  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
  Your father and your Lord God,
  Who stands beside you in all need.

  
  In contrast to the first movement, the second begins with a recitative that further intensifies the lament begun earlier, culminating in the frightened question “Wie kann ich nun mein Amt mit Ruh verwalten, / Wenn Seufzer meine Speise und Tränen das Getränke sein?” (How can I now carry out my duty in peace / When sighs are my meal and tears are my drink?). This makes reference to a verse from Psalm 42: “Meine Tränen sind meine Speise Tag und Nacht, weil man täglich zu mir sagt: wo ist nun dein Gott?” (3; My tears are my food day and night, because every day people say to me: Where is your God now?).
  
  The next section of the recitative—still in the second movement²—makes a clear reference to the Sunday Gospel reading:

  Ach wie?
  Gott sorget freilich vor das Vieh,
  Er gibt den Vögeln seine Speise,
  Er sättigt die jungen Raben,
  Nur ich, ich weiß nicht, auf was Weise
  Ich armes Kind
  Mein bißchen Brot soll haben;
  Wo ist jemand, der sich zu meiner Rettung findt?
  
  Ah, how?
  God certainly provides for the cattle,
  He gives the birds his food,
  He satiates the young ravens.
  Only I, I know not, in what way,
  I, poor child,
  Shall have my little bit of bread.
  Where is someone who can be found for my rescue?

  
  In spite of this extensive lament, reassuring counsel finally wins the day: “Dein Vater und dein Herre Gott, / Der dir beisteht in aller Not” (Your father and your Lord God, / Who stands beside you in all need). And thus in the movements that follow, patience and faith dissolve the worry and lament that have dominated thus far. The third movement, a recitative, reads in part:

  Ach süßer Trost! Wenn Gott mich nicht verlassen
  Und nicht versäumen will,
  So kann ich in der Still 
  Und in Geduld mich fassen.
  
  Ah, sweet comfort! If God will not leave me
  And will not forsake me,
  Then I can, in stillness
  And in patience, compose myself.

  
  The ensuing aria proclaims with utter conviction: “Auf Gott steht meine Zuversicht, / Mein Glaube läßt ihn walten” (Upon God rests my confidence, / My faith lets him rule). A brief ensuing recitative strengthens the ultimate separation from all previous care, after which the third strophe of the chorale closes the libretto:

  Weil du mein Gott und Vater bist,
  Dein Kind wirst du verlassen nicht,
  Du väterliches Herz!
  Ich bin ein armer Erdenkloß,
  Auf Erden weiß ich keinen Trost.
  
  Since you are my God and father,
  You will not abandon your child,
  You fatherly heart!
  I am a poor lump of earth;
  On Earth I know no comfort.

  
  As we said earlier, Bach’s composition of this libretto shows itself to be an experiment on the way to the diverse and elaborate forms that distinguish his annual cycle of chorale cantatas of 1724–25. Compared to them, much here seems concisely structured, concentrated, and restricted to the essential. Thus a few purely instrumental measures are placed at the beginning, before the voices enter: eloquent gestures in the strings; a quotation of the chorale melody in the first oboe d’amore; a descending series of half tones in the second woodwind as a symbol of affliction. In the further course of the movement, participation of the independent instrumental component remains relatively slight; also, a contrapuntal or motet-like preparation of each chorale line does not occur. Instead, these are introduced by the tenor in a kind of prologue. Shortly before the close, the more extensive recitative, given to the alto, is interpolated. Sustained harmonies in the strings noticeably restrain musical activity, but intermittent bursts of animation in the woodwinds provide new impulses.
  
  In the second movement, verbose recitative sections predominate at first over the simply set chorale strophe. Unexpectedly, however, the chorale gains significance, as its closing lines are figurally extended with elaborate counterpoint: “Dein Vater und dein Herre Gott, / Der dir beisteht in aller Not.”
  
  The bass aria “Auf Gott steht meine Zuversicht,” framed by two recitatives, is striking for the predominance of its instrumental component and its dance-like gesture as well as uncomplicated melody. Whether Bach meant to illustrate the text with a naive, unreflective gesture or whether the aria is simply based on an instrumental model such as a minuet from a suite, we cannot say. In any case, the composer treasured this remarkable aria movement highly, as can be seen in the fact that, in the 1730s, he incorporated its revised form as the Gratias Agimus Tibi in his Mass in G Major BWV 236.
  
  The closing chorale combines a relaxed, motet-like vocal component with animated passages for the woodwinds and especially the strings. While the integrity of the chorale movements at the cantata’s beginning was fragmented by the interpolated recitatives, it is easily achieved here, although certainly at the cost of a certain restlessness that runs counter to the function of a closing chorale. Whether this movement was truly meant to be the closing chorale is a question that must remain open. Bach’s score breaks off before the final measure. Whether more has been lost—recitatives, arias, chorale settings—or whether the cantata was originally designed in two parts can no longer be established today.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. Krummacher (1995, 49 ff.).↵
  2. The movement structure observed by Schulze is that of the NBA, I/22 (Wendt 1987). In Alfred Dürr’s (2005) discussion, the movement structure is that of the old Bach Gesellschaft Edition (as well as the 1990 BWV2), a total of seven altogether: the second movement is a tenor recitative (mm. 1–11 of the NBA second movement), and the third is the chorale with interleaved lines of recitative (m. 12 to the end of the NBA second movement). In Schulze’s discussion, the second movement includes Dürr’s movements 2 and 3, so that in Schulze the movement count is six.—Trans.↵