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Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan BWV 99 / BC A 133
Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity, September 17, 1724
Among Bach’s cantatas there are three compositions whose text begins “Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan” (What God does, that is done well). This, the oldest of the three, originated in 1724 as part of the annual cycle of chorale cantatas and is assigned to the fifteenth Sunday after Trinity. The Gospel reading for this Sunday in Matthew 6 warns against the worries of little faith and closes with the admonition: “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” (34). The confidence of faith shown here is seen also in the six-strophe chorale Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan. In this regard, it is fully appropriate for a composition for the fifteenth Sunday after Trinity, even if it is not one of the main hymns for that day. Its author, Samuel Rodigast, went down in the history of Protestant hymnody by virtue of this chorale alone. Born in 1649 in Gröben, near Weimar, he died in 1708 as rector of the gymnasium at Graues Cloister in Berlin. During his years of education at the University of Jena, his slightly older friend Severus Gastorius took ill and felt close to death. To offer his friend solace, Rodigast wrote the poem in 1675, all of whose verses begin with the phrase “Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan” and whose core idea is expressed in a verse from Deuteronomy 32: “He is a rock. His works are irreproachable, for all that he does, that is right. Just and pious is he” (4).In contrast to Bach’s last cantata based on Rodigast’s hymn (BWV 100), written in 1734, which uses the unchanged strophes for chorale movements and arias, in our cantata only the first and last strophes are adopted without change, while the internal strophes are more or less freely adapted to become recitatives and arias. Thus the cantata libretto begins with the first chorale strophe in its original wording:
Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan,
Es bleibt gerecht sein Wille;
Wie er fängt meine Sachen an,
Ich will ihm halten stille.
Er ist mein Gott, der in der Not
Mich wohl weiß zu erhalten;
Drum laß ich ihn nur walten.
What God does is done well,
His will remains just;
However he directs my affairs,
I will keep still before him.
He is my God who, in distress,
Knows well how to sustain me;
Therefore, I just let him rule.
The second strophe is extensively revised:
Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan,
Er wird mich nicht betrügen;
Er führet mich auf rechter Bahn,
So laß ich mich begnügen
An seiner Huld
Und hab Geduld,
Er wird mein Unglück wenden,
Es steht in seinen Händen.
What God does, that is done well,
He will not deceive me;
He leads me on the right path,
So I am content
With his grace
And have patience,
He will reverse my misfortune,
It is in his hands.
In the recitative created from this, the model can be seen shimmering through everywhere, particularly in the end rhymes, although very little of the original language is adopted literally:
Sein Wort der Wahrheit stehet fest
Und wird mich nicht betrügen,
Weil es die Gläubigen nicht fallen noch verderben läßt.
Ja weil es mich den Weg zum Leben führt,
So faßt mein Herze sich und lässt sich begnügen
An Gottes Vatertreu und Huld
Und hat Geduld,
Wenn mich ein Unfall rühret.
Gott kann mit seinen Allmachtshänden
Mein Unglück wenden.
His word of truth stands fast
And will not deceive me,
For it lets the faithful neither fall nor go to their ruin.
Yes, because it leads me on the way to life,
My heart composes itself and contents itself
With God’s fatherly devotion and grace
And has patience,
If I am struck by misfortune,
God can with his almighty hands
Reverse my misfortune.
Rodigast’s third strophe has the following verse in its center:
Er als mein Arzt und Wundermann
Wird mir nicht Gift einschenken
Vor Arzenei; Gott ist getreu.
He as my physician and miracle worker
Will not give me poison
Instead of medication; God is true.
The unknown librettist takes up this idea but extends it by way of the familiar metaphor of bitter/sweet suffering, associating bitterness with the memory of the cross:
Erschüttre dich nur nicht, verzagte Seele,
Wenn dir der Kreuzeskelch so bitter schmeckt.
Gott ist dein weiser Arzt und Wundermann,
So dir kein tödlich Gift einschenken kann,
Obgleich die Süßigkeit verborgen steckt.
Do not upset yourself, despondent soul,
If the chalice of the cross tastes so bitter.
God is your wise physician and miracle worker
So cannot give lethal poison to you,
Although the sweetness remains hidden.
The fourth chorale strophe closes with the words:
Es kommt die Zeit,
Da öffentlich erscheinet,
Wie treulich er es meinet.
The time will come
When it will be openly apparent
How faithfully he means it.
The recitative derived from this concludes with similar expressions, but not before alluding to the Sunday Gospel reading:
Und haben alle Tage gleich ihre eigne Plage,
Doch auf das überstandne Leid,
Wenn man genug geweinet,
Kommt endlich die Errettungszeit,
Da Gottes treuer Sinn erscheinet.
And if all days alike have their own vexation,
Yet upon the suffering withstood,
When one has wept enough
The time of rescue finally comes
When God’s faithful disposition is manifested.
The next to last hymn strophe speaks of the bitter chalice and sweet consolation. Here, the associated aria text abandons the tone of the chorale and observes, somewhat dogmatically:
Wenn des Kreuzes Bitterkeiten
Mit des Fleisches Schwachheit streiten,
Ist es dennoch wohlgetan.
Wer das Kreuz durch falschen Wahn
Sich vor unerträglich schätzet,
Wird auch künftig nicht ergötzt.
When the bitterness of the cross
Clash with the weakness of the flesh,
It is nevertheless done well.
Whoever, through misapprehension,
Considers the cross unbearable
Will not be delighted in future either.
The cantata libretto closes with the unchanged wording of the chorale’s final strophe and its statement of commitment:
Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan,
Dabei will ich verbleiben.
Es mag mich auf die rauhe Bahn
Not, Tod und Elend treiben,
So wird Gott mich
Ganz väterlich
In seinen Armen halten;
Drum laß ich ihn nur walten.
What God does, that is done well,
On that I will remain.
I may, on the rough path,
Be driven by need, death, and affliction.
Then God will,
Most paternally,
Hold me in his arms;
Therefore, I just let him rule.
The melody associated with Rodigast’s strophes, composed by Gastorius on an older model and further elaborated later, is considered a characteristic example of the early Pietistic aria. It appears line by line in Bach’s opening chorus in the manner typical of the chorale cantatas, with motet-like counterpoint in the other voices and embedded in an independent, thematically unified instrumental texture. The contemplative diction of the chorale melody is likely the reason why Bach’s opening movement proceeds in cheerful serenity, with the concertante interplay of strings and woodwinds drawing more attention than the interpretation of the text.
The solo movements are all the more dedicated to exegesis of the text. If the two recitatives simply have an expansive arioso at the close, the two arias in contrast engage all registers in an intensive illustration of the text. In the aria “Erschüttre dich nur nicht, verzagte Seele” (Do not upset yourself, despondent soul), the tenor is joined by a virtuoso obbligato flute, alternating between an unfocused bustle and a painful chromaticism that seem intended to depict the state of mind of the believer, while the mellifluous timbres of the middle section correlate to the “verborgenen Süßigkeit” (hidden sweetness) in the text. In the next to last movement, for the powerful reminder of the beneficial effect of “des Kreuzes Bitterkeiten” (the bitterness of the cross), Bach chooses a demanding, largely imitative quintet texture in which flute and oboe d’amore, on the one hand, and soprano and alto, on the other, are paired with one another over a largely reserved continuo, though without neglecting other possible combinations entirely. The closing chorale rediscovers the serenity of the opening. Even the text passage “Not, Tod und Elend” (Need, death, and affliction) leaves not even the faintest trace in the music’s course.