This page was created by James A. Brokaw II. The last update was by Angela Watters.
Herr Christ, der einge Gottessohn BWV 96 / BC A 142
Eighth Sunday after Trinity, October 8, 1724
This cantata was performed for the first time on October 8, 1724, in Leipzig. It belongs to that annual cycle of cantatas that, in the words of Johann Niklaus Forkel in 1803, is “so elegantly fashioned upon chorale melodies.” According to the concept behind this chorale cantata annual cycle, the libretto is based on a chorale text that is partly used literally and partly reshaped to form recitatives and arias and lengthened or abbreviated in the process. Normally one of the main hymns for the Sunday in question would have been chosen for a chorale cantata like this and, where clearly called for, enriched with references to the Gospel reading of the day. In the case of the cantata Herr Christ, der einge Gottessohn BWV 96 (Jesus Christ, the only son of God), there are very few references to the Gospel reading. Found in Matthew 22, it is the account of Jesus’s conversations with the Pharisees, who learn of “the noblest and greatest of commandments”: to love God and one’s neighbor, and to whom is posed the unanswerable question of how Jesus could be David’s son and also his ruler.The fact that the cantata libretto is so sparing in references to the Gospel reading for the eighteenth Sunday after Trinity may have to do with a certain ambivalence of the chorale text. While the chorale Herr Christ, der einge Gottessohn is indeed one of the main hymns for that Sunday, it is more closely associated with other feast days. Although it appears beneath the general heading “Ein geistlich Lied von Christo” (A sacred hymn of Christ) in the sixteenth century, in hymnaries of the eighteenth century it turns up in chapters entitled “Von der Menschwerdung Jesu Christi (auf den Advent)” (Of the incarnation of Jesus Christ [for Advent]) and “Aufs Fest der Verkündigung Mariä” (For the festival of the Annunciation). The author of the five-strophe chorale text is Elisabeth Cruciger, also referred to as Creutziger. The poet, born shortly after 1500 to a noble family that immigrated to Poland, belonged to Martin Luther’s closest circle, particularly after her marriage to Caspar Cruciger. In 1525 Cruciger was appointed rector to the Johannisschule in Magdeburg, but after three years the family returned to Wittenberg. There, Cruciger became a professor of philosophy at the university but switched to theology only shortly afterward upon prompting by Martin Luther. Cruciger was among Martin Luther’s closest collaborators, and his wife, Elisabeth, was a close friend of Luther’s wife, Catharina. Elisabeth Cruciger died in May 1535 after only eleven years of marriage. She is thought to have written the hymn Herr Christ, der einge Gottessohn, which draws heavily on the Latin Christmas hymn Corde natus ex parentis (Of the father’s love begotten) by Prudentius, as a young girl, almost certainly before 1524. The melody associated with the text from time immemorial is similar to the tune of a secular song whose text begins “Mein Freud möcht sich wohl mehren” (My joy will likely increase), found as early as the fifteenth century in the Lochamer-Liederbuch from the Nuremberg region.
Exactly two hundred years after its initial publication, the text and melody became the basis for a chorale cantata by Johann Sebastian Bach. In the usual manner, the unidentified arranger of the text left the first and last strophes unchanged but reshaped the three interior strophes to form two recitative-aria movement pairs. Almost in anticipation of Philipp Nicolai’s “Morning Star” chorale, written seventy-five years later, the first strophe of Cruciger’s text reads:
Herr Christ, der einge Gottessohn,
Vaters in Ewigkeit,
Aus seinem Herzn entsprossen,
Gleichwie geschrieben steht.
Er ist der Morgensterne,
Sein’ Glanz streckt er so ferne
Für ander Sternen klar.
Lord Christ, the only son of God,
Of the father in eternity,
Originating from his heart,
Just as it is written.
He is the morning star,
Whose brilliance he extends so far
That it is clear beyond all other stars.
The unusually concise, closely woven language, rich in imagery, also characterizes the second strophe:
Für uns ein Mensch geboren
Im letzten Teil der Zeit,
Der Mutter unverloren
Ihr jungfräulich Keuschheit;
Den Tod für uns zerbrochen,
Den Himmel aufgeschlossen,
Das Leben wiederbracht.
For us, a person born
In the final portion of time
To a mother who had not lost
Her virginal chastity;
Who for us has broken death,
Thrown open heaven,
Restored life.
The cantata librettist is much more verbose in his first recitative, based on the chorale’s second strophe:
O Wunderkraft der Liebe,
Wenn Gott an sein Geschöpfe denket,
Wenn sich die Herrlichkeit
Im letzten Teil der Zeit
Zur Erde senket.
O wondrous power of love,
When God considers his creatures,
When his glory
In the last portion of time
Sinks to earth.
A bit later he weaves in an allusion to the Sunday Gospel reading:
Es trägt ein auserwählter Leib
Den großen Gottessohn,
Den David schon
Im Geist als seinen Herrn verehrte.
A chosen womb bears
The great son of God
Whom David already honored
In spirit as his lord.
The closing lines of the recitative recall the last chorale movement of the St. John Passion, performed six months earlier:
O reiche Segenskraft, so sich auf uns gegossen,
Da er den Himmel auf, die Hölle zugeschlossen.
O rich power of blessing, poured out upon us,
For he has opened heaven and closed hell.
The third strophe of Cruciger’s chorale, “Laß uns in deiner Liebe und / Erkenntnis nehmen zu” (Grant to us that in your love and / Knowledge we may increase), is reshaped to become a lively and animated aria text:
Ach ziehe die Seele mit Seilen der Liebe,
O Jesu, ach zeige dich kräftig in ihr.
Ah, draw my soul with bonds of love,
O Jesus, show yourself powerfully therein.
These and other lines depend on the chorale to a significant extent, but it is also easy to see a connection to “the noblest and greatest of commandments,” love of God and one’s neighbor. The closing lines of the fourth chorale strophe, “Und kehr ab unsre Sinnen, / Daß sie nicht irren von dir” (And turn away our senses, / That they do not stray from you), form the core of the second recitative-aria pair, which pray to God and the savior for safe passage on the way to heaven:
Ach führe mich, o Gott, zum rechten Wege,
Mich, der ich unerleuchtet bin,
Der ich nach meines Fleisches Sinn
So oft zu irren pflege.
Ah, lead me, O God, on the paths of righteousness,
I, who unenlightened am,
I, who in my carnal urges
So often go astray.
Thus reads the recitative, and the aria continues: “Bald zur Rechten, bald zur Linken / Lenkt sich mein verirrter Schritt” (Now to the right, now to the left / Roll my straying steps). Elisabeth Cruciger’s final strophe emphasizes that the old Adam, laden with sin, must pass away in order to be replaced by the “new man,” filled with faith:
Ertöt uns durch dein’ Güte,
Erweck uns durch dein Gnad;
Den alten Menschen kränke,
Daß der neu’ leben mag
Wohl hier auf dieser Erden,
Den Sinn und all Begehrden
Und G’danken hab’n zu dir.
Mortify us through your goodness,
Awaken us through your grace;
Weaken the old man,
That he may have new life
Even here upon this earth,
That our minds and all desires
And thoughts be turned to you.
Bach’s composition of this libretto is marked above all by the exceedingly extensive opening movement, whose scope the composer probably sought to shorten a bit by the tempo marking Vivace. The cheerfully animated
8 meter, the F major key, the serene harmonic progressions of the strings and woodwinds: all these seem to anticipate the chorale cantata Bach composed several months later on Philipp Nicolai’s “Morning Star” hymn, mentioned above. The constant figuration of the recorder in its high register—replaced in a later version by the violin piccolo—is surely meant to depict the sparkling of the morning star. The choral soprano part is afforded more room to maneuver than usual in the chorale cantatas because, in this case, the chorale melody is given to the alto instead of the soprano.
All four voice ranges are active as soloists in this cantata. The alto begins with a recitative and is followed by the tenor with the aria “Ach ziehe die Seele mit Seilen der Liebe,” in which the obbligato flute, now flowing, now faltering and interspersed with sigh motives, constantly underscores the gestures of supplication of the text and makes manifest the tribulation of the effort. A recitative for soprano is followed by a second bass aria, accompanied by strings and woodwinds. In spite of the subtle handling of the interplay between these two instrumental groups, the text phrase “Bald zur Rechten, bald zur Linken / Lenkt sich mein verirrter Schritt” is almost too constantly underscored. If the earlier performance in fact occurred in Leipzig’s St. Thomas Church and not in St. Nicholas, the constant change of direction would have been not only audible but also visible, for here the string and woodwind performers stood to the right and left of the singers on two Stadtpfeifferemporen, or balconies for Stadtpfeiffer.
In the simple four-part closing chorale, without comparable pretensions, the melody is given to the sopranos as usual (and in contrast to the opening movement), thereby achieving a serene and calming conclusion.