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• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:17+00:00 Brich dem Hungrigen dein Brot BWV 39 / BC A 96 23 First Sunday After Trinity. First performed 06/23/1726 in Leipzig (Cycle III). plain 2024-04-24T16:10:18+00:00 1726-06-23 BWV 39 Leipzig 50.979493, 11.323544 01Trinity01 First Sunday After Trinity BC A 96 Johann Sebastian Bach Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Brich dem Hungrigen dein Brot, BWV 39 / BC A 96" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 295 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig III

  First Sunday after Trinity, June 23, 1726

  As was customary for the era, the contents of this cantata are closely connected to the Gospel reading for the Sunday after Trinity, the parable of the rich man and the pauper Lazarus in Luke 16. However, due to a remarkable misunderstanding, for decades the cantata was regarded as “political” music, as a kind of commentary by Bach on events in Leipzig during his time there. It was the Dresden musicologist Rudolf Wustmann who put this idea forward. In a presentation entitled “Bach’s music in worship service" (Bachs Musik im Gottesdienst) to a church choral association convention in Dessau in 1909, Wustmann carefully ventured the suggestion that Bach might have composed the large, beautiful cantata for a “great celebration of Protestant charity” on June 15, 1732. Rudolf Wustmann may have gotten the idea for this hypothesis from a publication by his father, Gustav Wustmann, Leipzig librarian and director of the city archive. In 1889 the elder Wustmann published an essay in an anthology, Quellen zur Geschichte Leipzigs (Sources for the history of Leipzig), in which he reproduced numerous extracts from a handwritten chronicle by a certain Johann Salomon Riemer.¹ A part of this text is concerned with a group known as the Salzburg Emigrants, whose fate was closely bound to a late Counter-Reformation edict by Archbishop Leopold Ernst von Firmian of Salzburg that required Lutheran inhabitants to convert to Catholicism or leave the country. As a result of the edict, almost twenty thousand people emigrated in 1731 and 1732, many of them seeking a new homeland in the thinly settled eastern provinces of Prussia. On their journey to the North, several refugee caravans stopped in Leipzig.
  
  This placed the city in a particularly unenviable position. In 1697 the Saxon elector, Friedrich August I, had converted to Catholicism in service of his effort to gain the Polish crown. Leipzig, at the time a stronghold of Lutheran orthodoxy, felt itself increasingly called upon to take the sensitivities of the sovereign into consideration in order to preserve a certain measure of independence. Although the Salzburg Emigrants were shown great compassion by city, church, and citizenry, the authorities avoided issuing an official greeting because, as an official report reads, “Leipzig is under rulers who profess the Catholic religion, which our Salzburg Emigrants have abandoned.”² Nevertheless, it can be neither confirmed nor refuted that the cantata Brich dem Hungrigen dein Brot BWV 39 (Break your bread with the hungry) could have been performed on the first Sunday after Trinity in 1732. In any case, Bach cannot have designated the work for this special occasion; instead, the composition and first performance belong to 1726.³ On the other hand, if one supposed that Bach scheduled a reperformance exactly six years later, with or without foreknowledge of the arrival of the exiles, then one would have to assume that he was confident that his choir at that time could master the tricky and challenging opening movement. In June 1732 this would not have been clear at all. For the faculty and students of Leipzig’s St. Thomas School, it was the end of an era marked by unrest and inadequate space situations caused by the extensive renovation of the school building.
  
  If, despite this long-held belief, Bach did not mean his cantata for the Salzburger Emigrants, the text has even less to do with that external circumstance. It appears in a cantata text cycle printed in Meiningen in 1704; one must wonder whether the author is to be sought in that southwestern Thuringian capital.
  
  In many cases, the layout of the cantata libretti in the anonymous annual cycle is similar to that of our cantata: at the beginning, a passage from the Hebrew Bible, followed by recitatives and arias; a New Testament passage is followed by recitatives and arias, with a chorale strophe at the end.⁴ In this case, two verses from Isaiah 58 provide the evocative introduction:

  Brich dem Hungrigen dein Brot, und die, so im Elend sind, führe ins Haus. So du einen nackend siehst, so kleide ihn, und entzeuch dich nicht von deinem Fleisch. Alsdann wird dein Licht hervorbrechen wie die Morgenröte, und deine Besserung wird schnell wachsen, und deine Gerechtigkeit wird vor dir hergehen, und die Herrlichkeit des Herrn wird dich zu sich nehmen. (7–8)
  
  Break your bread with the hungry, and those who are in misery, take into your house. Should you see a naked person, clothe him, and do not withdraw yourself from those of your own flesh. And then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your recovery will quickly increase, and your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the Lord will take you to itself.

  
  Building on these words, the unknown librettist formulates an elaborate admonition to active compassion and empathy in recitatives and arias. In the first recitative, the unknown poet, a lover of the Alexandrine verse form, indulges his predilection for long lines:

  Der reiche Gott wirft seinen Überfluß
  Auf uns, die wir ohn ihn auch nicht den Odem haben. 
  Sein ist es, was wir sind; er gibt nur den Genuß,
  Doch nicht, daß uns allein nur seine Schätze laben.
  
  Bounteous God casts his abundance
  Upon us, who without him do not even have breath. 
  It is his, what we are; he gives only pleasure,
  Yet not that his treasures should bless us alone.

  
  At the close the text reads:

  Barmherzigkeit, die auf dem Nächsten ruht,
  Kann mehr als alle Gab ihm an das Herze dringen.
  
  Compassion that falls upon one’s neighbor 
  Can, more than all gifts, penetrate his heart.

  
  The associated aria generalizes these ideas:

  Seinem Schöpfer noch auf Erden 
  Nur im Schatten ähnlich werden, 
  Ist im Vorschmack selig sein.
  Sein Erbarmen nachzuahmen, 
  Streuet hier des Segens Samen, 
  Den wir dorten bringen ein.
  
  To become like one’s creator still on Earth, 
  Though only in shadowy similarity,
  Is a foretaste of blessedness. 
  To emulate his mercy
  Sows the seeds of blessing here,
  Which we will harvest there.

  
  The New Testament passage comes from Hebrews 13: “Wohlzutun und mitzuteilen vergesset nicht; denn solche Opfer gefallen Gott wohl” (16; To do good and to share, do not forget, for such offerings please God well). The ensuing aria puts these possibilities into perspective:

  Höchster, was ich habe, 
  Ist nur deine Gabe.
  Wenn vor deinem Angesicht 
  Ich schon mit dem deinen 
  Dankbar wollt erscheinen,
  Willst du doch kein Opfer nicht.
  
  Highest, whatever I have, 
  Is only your gift.
  If, before your visage,
  I should, with all that is yours, 
  Wish to appear thankful,
  You still want no offering.

  
  The personal mode of address and the promise to exercise compassion continue in the recitative, once again in Alexandrines:

  Wie soll ich dir o Herr! denn sattsamlich vergelten, 
  Was du an Leib und Seel mir hast zugut getan?
  
  How should I, O Lord! sufficiently repay you
  For what you have done for me in body and soul?

  
  The long text concludes:

  Ich bringe, was ich kann, Herr! laß es dir behagen,
  Daß ich, was du versprichst, auch einst davon mög tragen.
  
  I bring what I can, Lord! may it please you
  That I may one day gain from it what you promise.

  
  A strophe from David Denicke’s 1648 hymn Kommt, laßt euch den Herren lehren (Come, let the Lord teach you) summarizes the thread of ideas:

  Selig sind, die aus Erbarmen 
  Sich annehmen fremder Not, 
  Sind mitleidig mit den Armen, 
  Bitten treulich für sie Gott.
  Die behülflich sind mit Rat,
  Auch womöglich mit der Tat,
  Werden wieder Hülf empfangen 
  Und Barmherzigkeit erlangen.
  
  Blessed are they who, out of mercy, 
  Attend to the affliction of others, 
  Who are compassionate with the poor, 
  Pray faithfully for them to God.
  Those who are helpful with their counsel 
  And, where possible in action,
  Will in turn receive help 
  And themselves gain mercy.

  
  The richness of text in the opening passage from Isaiah informs the conception of the opening movement in Bach’s composition. The complex movement, 218 measures in length, begins with an instrumental section whose “broken” manner can certainly be understood in relation to the gestures of the breaking and distribution of bread. As the instruments are joined by the choir, the first paragraph of the Isaiah passage is further developed. The gravity and seriousness of “Brich dem Hungrigen dein Brot” call for and receive a fugal treatment in the central part of this first section. The rest of the text, beginning with “So du einen nackend siehest,” is instead treated line by line, in the manner of a motet, and is more withdrawn compared to the fugal texture. The same gradation between fugal and chordal textures defines the closing section, beginning at the shift to 3
  8 meter. In contrast to the other text passages, the opening and closing sections are powerfully emphasized by their fugal treatment: “Alsdann wird dein Licht hervorbrechen, wie die Morgenröte,” as well as “und die Herrlichkeit des Herrn wird dich zu sich nehmen.”
  
  The first recitative for bass, simply declaimed, is followed by the alto aria “Seinem Schöpfer noch auf Erden.” It is a truly characteristic movement in Bach’s cantatas, in which the buoyant charm of a dance type, here situated between minuet and passepied, is united with strict counterpoint to lend the text a particular emphasis.
  
  With the New Testament passage, Bach begins the second half of the cantata, customarily performed after the sermon in Leipzig—and, with this division, he deviates from the intentions of the librettist. The text “Wohlzutun und mitzuteilen” is given to the bass, the vox Christi, which, as so often, is accompanied only by the basso continuo. Through a subtle technique of repetition and variation, voice and accompaniment strive to clarify the gravity of the biblical passage. A lighter contrast is afforded by the setting of the aria “Höchster, was ich habe” (Highest, whatever I have) with soprano and obbligato recorders. The last recitative, with its quite personal expression, is embedded in chords in the strings before the four-part concluding chorale on the melody Freu dich sehr, o meine Seele (Rejoice greatly, O my soul) leads to a confident conclusion.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. The anthology, edited by G. Wustmann, was published in two volumes in 1889 and 1895. The essay is not titled.—Trans.↵
  2. “Leipzig unter einer Herrschaft stehet, die sich zur Katholischen Religion bekennet, welche unsere Salzburgische Emigranten verlassen haben” (Casper 1982).↵
  3. The texts for BWV 39, movements 4 through 7, appear in the Christoph Birkmannannual cycle discovered in Nuremberg by Christine Blanken. Birkmann studied at the University of Leipzig from December 1, 1724, to early September 1727. His text cycle includes many works performed by Bach during Birkmann’s period of study in Leipzig. It is believed that BWV 39 was performed on June 23, 1726, in Leipzig (Blanken 2015b, 67).—Trans.↵
  4. Blankenburg (1977); Schulze (2002b).↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:19+00:00 Wer Dank opfert, der preiset mich BWV 17 / BC A 31 8 Fourteenth Sunday After Trinity. First performed 09/22/1726 in Leipzig (Cycle III). plain 2024-04-24T14:46:03+00:00 1726-09-22 BWV 17 Leipzig 50.979493, 11.323544 05Trinity14 Fourteenth Sunday After Trinity BC A 131 Johann Sebastian Bach Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Wer Dank opfert, der preiset mich, BWV 17 / BC A 131" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 407 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig III

  Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity, September 22, 1726

  This cantata, Wer Dank opfert, der preiset mich BWV 17 (Whoever offers thanks, he praises me), was heard for the first time on September 22, 1726. Its text follows the Gospel reading for the fourteenth Sunday after Trinity, the account in Luke 17 of the healing of the ten lepers:

  And it came to pass that as he traveled toward Jerusalem, he passed through Samaria and Galilee. And as he entered a market, he was met by ten men who were lepers, who stood far off and raised their voices and spoke: Jesus, dear master, have mercy upon us! And as he saw them he said to them: Go forth and show yourselves to the priests! And it happened, as they went there, they were cleansed. But one among them, as he saw that he was healed, turned around and praised God with a loud voice and fell upon his face at his feet and thanked him. And that was a Samaritan. But Jesus answered and spoke: Are not ten of you cleansed? But where are the nine? Were there none found who returned to give glory to God other than this stranger? And he spoke to him: Arise, and go on your way; your faith has helped you! (11–19)

  
  In particular, the unknown librettist takes up the Samaritan’s offering of thanks. As is his custom, he places a passage from the Hebrew Bible at the beginning, in this case, the last verse from Psalm 50, with which he sets the way forward: “Wer Dank opfert, der preiset mich, und das ist der Weg, daß ich ihm zeige das Heil Gottes” (23; Whoever offers thanks, he praises me, and that is the way that I shall show him the salvation of God). The first recitative calls up nature as witness; as in nearly all subsequent movements, the librettist indulges his proclivity for cavalcades of nouns at the cost of a final syllable if necessary:

  Es muß die ganze Welt ein stummer Zeuge werden
  Von Gottes hoher Majestät,
  Luft, Wasser, Firmament und Erden,
  Wenn ihre Ordnung als in Schnuren geht.
  Ihn preiset die Natur mit ungezählten Gaben,
  Die er ihr in den Schoß gelegt,
  Und was den Odem hegt,
  Will noch mehr Anteil an ihm haben,
  Wenn es zu seinem Ruhm so Zung als Fittich regt.
  
  The entire world must become a mute witness
  To God’s high majesty,
  Air, water, firmament, and earth,
  As if their order moves by puppet string.
  Nature praises him by countless gifts,
  That he has placed in its bosom,
  And whatever enjoys breath
  Desires to have still more share in him,
  If tongue as well as wing bestirs to his glory.

  
  Scarcely less characteristic for the style of this librettist is his preference for Alexandrines, on full display in the first aria. He begins with formulations drawn from Psalm 57 before returning to Psalm 50, from which he drew the passage at the libretto’s beginning:

  Herr, deine Güte reicht, so weit der Himmel ist,
  Und deine Wahrheit langt, so weit die Wolken gehen.
  Wüßt ich gleich sonsten nicht, wie herrlich groß du bist,
  So könnt ich es gar leicht aus deinen Werken sehen.
  Wie sollt man dich mit Dank davor nicht stetig preisen?
  Da du uns willt den Weg des Heils hingegen weisen.
  
  Lord, your goodness reaches as far as the sky is,
  And your truth extends as far as the clouds go.
  If I did not yet otherwise know how gloriously great you are,
  Then I could see it easily from your works.
  How shall one not in return constantly praise you with thanks?
  There, on the other hand, you desire to show us the way of salvation.

  
  With this, the connection to the Sunday Gospel reading is complete. The authoritative sentence from Luke 17 is quoted in the cantata text as a New Testament dictum: “Einer aber unter ihnen da er sahe, daß er gesund worden war, kehrete um und preisete Gott mit lauter Stimme und fiel auf sein Angesicht zu seinen Füßen und dankete ihm, und das war ein Samariter” (15–16; But one among them, as he saw that he was healed, turned around and praised God with a loud voice and fell upon his face at his feet and thanked him. And that was a Samaritan). The aria that follows, with its hymn-like language, is a prayer of thanksgiving from the one who was healed:

  Welch Übermaß der Güte
  Schenkst du mir!
  Doch was gibt mein Gemüte 
  Dir dafür?
  Herr, ich weiß sonst nichts zu bringen,
  Als dir Dank und Lob zu singen.
  
  What overmeasure of goodness
  You bestow upon me!
  But what does my spirit give 
  You in return?
  Lord, I know nothing else to bring
  But to sing you thanks and praise.
   

  The final recitative is also filled with praise and thanks, even if these words, remarkably, are omitted. Once again the librettist indulges his love of Alexandrines as well as a torrent of nouns, including some whose final syllables are dropped: “Leib, Leben und Verstand, Gesundheit, Kraft und Sinn” (Body, life, and understanding; health, strength, and mind) appear at the beginning; a bit later, in “dubious density” (bedenklicher Dichte) there follows:

  Lieb, Fried, Gerechtigkeit und Freud in deinem Geist
  Sind Schätz, dadurch du mir schon hier ein Vorbild weist.
  
  Love, peace, justice, and joy in your spirit
  Are treasures through which you show me here a prefigurement.

  The third strophe of Johann Gramann’s 1530 hymn Nun lob, mein Seel, den Herren (Now praise, my soul, the Lord) closes the train of thought.

  This libretto is documented as early as 1704 in Meiningen; it may have originated there. It is part of an annual cycle of texts that was printed several times, as late as 1726 in Rudolstadt under the title Sonn- und Fest-Tags-Andachten über die ordentlichen Evangelia (Sun- and feast-day devotions on the regular Gospels).¹ It provided Bach the welcome opportunity to create a two-part cantata, the first part to be performed before the sermon, the second part after it, with a break before the New Testament passage. In keeping with tradition, the composition’s emphasis is on the first movement. In view of the gravitas and profundity of the psalm passage, the dominating structural principle could only be that of fugue. What is striking in the course of the movement, in particular the two fugal expositions, is the nearly instrumental demands upon the voices. Superficially, this appears to be because the opening sinfonia, twenty-seven measures long and extraordinarily closely worked, unmistakably anticipates the vocal component of the first movement that follows. That Bach placed such a compact, well-unified movement at the beginning was probably no coincidence. He would have foreseen that the psalm verse at the libretto’s beginning would require an extended, angular, and stubbornly unmanageable (widerborstig) subject if it was set as a fugue and not an arioso. It would have made sense to counteract its centrifugal tendency from the very beginning and accompany the fugal sections with an architectonic structure as a stabilizing element.
  
  The brief alto recitative is followed by the first aria, a quartet for soprano, two violins, and the basso continuo. That several details oddly recall the germinal motive of the opening instrumental movement may have been intentional, since the aria text clearly approximates the psalm text’s conclusion.
  
  The passage from the New Testament opens the cantata’s second half, performed by the tenor in an evangelist’s narrative style. Also given to the tenor is the ensuing aria, a song of praise for the “Übermaß der Güte” (overmeasure of goodness). The catchy, song-like head motive, folk-like in character, seems to suggest a quotation of some kind. However, nothing is currently known about its origin or what its original text, if any, might have been.
  
  The bass voice presents the last recitative with its self-confident profession of gratitude before the closing chorale on the pre-Reformation melody Nun lob, mein Seel, den Herren leads back to the A major of the opening movement. Roughly twelve years after its composition, this opening movement found its way into Bach’s Mass in G Major BWV 236, where, transposed down a step and slightly revised, it serves as the Cum Sancto Spiritu.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. Blankenburg (1977); Schulze (2002b).↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:18+00:00 Es ist dir gesagt, Mensch, was gut ist BWV 45 / BC A 113 7 Eighth Sunday After Trinity. First performed 08/11/1726 in Leipzig (Cycle III). plain 2024-04-24T16:14:21+00:00 1726-08-11 BWV 45 Leipzig 50.979493, 11.323544 05Trinity08 Eighth Sunday After Trinity BC A 113 Johann Sebastian Bach Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Es ist dir gesagt, Mensch, was gut ist, BWV 45 / BC A 113" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 352 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig III

  Eighth Sunday after Trinity, August 11, 1726

  This cantata, Es ist dir gesagt, Mensch, was gut ist BWV 45 (You have been told, man, what is good), originated in August 1726. It belongs to a series of twenty-five cantatas, partly by Johann Sebastian Bach and partly by his Meiningen cousin Johann Ludwig Bach, which were performed by the Thomaskantor between February and September 1726 in the main churches of Leipzig and whose texts share a common origin. All of these cantatas are drawn from an annual cycle of cantata libretti by an unknown author that was printed for the first time in 1704 and in at least two later editions, the last of which, coincidentally, appeared in 1726, although not in Leipzig but in Rudolstadt. It remains uncertain what caused Bach to fall back upon these rather old texts. It may be that his cousin Johann Ludwig delivered to him not only a series of his cantatas but also a complete copy of the associated annual cycle of libretti—probably in a reprint of 1719.¹ Bach’s decision may have been encouraged by the fact that all the texts in the Meiningen annual cycle begin with a passage from the Hebrew Bible and present another one in the middle from the New Testament. This made the composition of cantatas in two parts easier; in Leipzig one part was customarily performed before the sermon, the second afterward.
  
  At the beginning of our cantata stands the word of law from the sixth chapter of the prophet Micah: “Es ist dir gesagt, Mensch, was gut ist und was der Herr von dir fordert: nämlich Gottes Wort halten und Liebe üben und demütig sein vor deinem Gott” (8; You have been told, man, what is good and what the Lord demands of you: namely, to keep to God’s word and to practice love and to be humble before your God). This verse from a judicial speech provides the Hebrew Bible counterpart to the Gospel reading for the eighth Sunday after Trinity, found in the seventh chapter of Matthew at the end of the Sermon on the Mount:

  Beware of false prophets who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. By their fruits shall you recognize them. Can one gather grapes from among the thorns or figs from thistles? Thus any good tree brings forth good fruit, but a bad tree brings forth bad fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bring forth good fruit. Any tree that does not bring forth good fruit is cut down and thrown in the fire. Therefore, by their fruit you shall recognize them. Not all of those who say to me: Lord, Lord! enter the kingdom of heaven, rather those who do the will of my father in heaven. Many will say to me on that day: Lord, Lord! Have we not prophesied in your name, have we not in your name driven the devil out, have we not in your name done many good things? Then I will attest to them: I have not ever recognized you; go away from me all, you evildoers! (15–23)

  
  The close of this Gospel reading was adopted by the librettist for the New Testament passage that begins the second half. The freely versified text of the first recitative first takes up the Hebrew Bible passage from Micah and praises its clear, directive statement:

  Der Höchste läßt mich seinen Willen wissen
  Und was ihm wohlgefällt;
  Er hat sein Wort zur Richtschnur dargestellt,
  Wornach mein Fuß soll sein geflissen
  Allezeit einherzugehn
  Mit Furcht, mit Demut und mit Liebe
  Als Proben des Gehorsams,
  Den ich übe,
  Um als ein treuer Knecht dereinsten zu bestehn.
  
  The Most High lets me know his will
  And what pleases him;
  He has presented his word as a plumb line
  By which my foot shall be intent
  At all times to proceed
  With fear, with humility, and with love
  As proof of the obedience
  That I practice,
  That one day I may prove to be a loyal servant.

  
  The associated aria makes clear that the law’s clarity demands compliance, making possible an acquittal before the judgment seat of God:

  Weiß ich Gottes Rechte,
  Was ists, das mir helfen kann,
  Wenn er mir als seinem Knechte
  Fordert scharfe Rechnung an?
  Seele, denke dich zu retten:
  Auf Gehorsam folget Lohn;
  Qual und Hohn
  Drohet deinem Übertreten.
  
  If I know God’s justice,
  What is there that can help me
  When he demands of me, as his servant,
  A strict account?
  Soul, think to save yourself:
  Upon obedience follows reward;
  Torment and scorn
  Threaten you in your transgression.

  
  The passage from the Sunday Gospel reading follows directly, warning against false confession.
  
  The aria that follows repeats this warning with other words:

  Wer Gott bekennt
  Aus wahrem Herzensgrund,
  Den will er auch bekennen;
  Denn der muß ewig brennen,
  Der einzig mit dem Mund
  Ihn Herren nennt.
  
  Whoever bears witness to God
  Out of the true foundation of the heart,
  He will also be acknowledged by him;
  For he must burn eternally
  Who merely with his mouth
  Calls him Lord.

  
  The last recitative summarizes:

  So wird denn Herz und Mund selbst von mir Richter sein,
  Und Gott will mir den Lohn nach meinem Sinn erteilen;
  Trifft nun mein Wandel nicht nach seinen Worten ein,
  Wer will hernach der Seelen Schaden heilen? 
  
  Then heart and mouth will themselves be judge of me,
  And God will allot to me the reward according to my mind;
  Were my action not to accord with his words,
  Who would hereafter heal the loss of my soul?

  
  The words of Jesus from the eighth chapter of Mark stand in the background here: “How would it help a person if he were to gain the entire world and suffer damage to his soul?” (36).
  
  The second strophe of Johannes Heermann’s hymn O Gott du frommer Gott (O God, you pious God) concludes the cantata libretto in catechetical fashion:

  Gib, daß ich tu mit Fleiß,
  Was mir zu tun gebühret,
  Wozu mich dein Befehl
  In meinem Stande führet.
  Gib, daß ichs tue bald,
  Zu der Zeit, da ich soll,
  Und wenn ichs tu, so gib, 
  Daß es gerate wohl.
   
  Grant that I do with diligence
  What is proper for me to do,
  To which your command
  Leads me in my station.
  Grant that I do it soon
  At the time when I should,
  And when I do it, then grant
  That it may turn out well.

  
  Bach’s composition is dominated by the brilliant opening movement, which, with its clear construction, seems intended to reflect the clarity of the legal text delivered by Micah. The lively alla breve and the multilayered structure with the inclusion of concertante parts not only do not inhibit the prevailing tendency toward canonic work and fugal development but also help it to achieve greater clarity and a stronger profile. Obviously, for Bach the commitment and freedom regarding the immutability of the law could scarcely be represented any other way than with those most challenging and perfect of compositional forms in which commitment and freedom are inherent: canon and fugue.
  
  With its rhythmic impetus and dance-like mien, the tenor aria “Weiß ich Gottes Rechte” (If I know God’s justice), accompanied by strings, seems to reflect the threatening undertone of the text inadequately. Obviously, the confidence of withstanding future judgment prevails here, so that even the “scharfe Rechnung” (severe judgment) in the text, treated with musical modulations, appears only as an episode. The closing, “Qual und Hohn / Drohet deinem Übertreten” (Torment and scorn / Threaten you in your transgression), indicates real danger, with sharp chromaticism followed by cessation of the violins, signaling abandonment.
  
  The New Testament passage at the beginning of the second half is given to the bass, the vox Christi. The movement designation Arioso betrays no hint of the veritable aria filled with drama that follows, with rushing passages for violin and, near the end, building to a scornful “Weichet alle von mir, ihr Übeltäter!” (Away from me all, you evildoers!).
  
  By contrast, the consoling alto aria is quite withdrawn: the voice is joined only by the transverse flute as an obbligato instrument. The last recitative also avoids distinctive features, and only the closing chorale on the melody O Gott du frommer Gott in the key of E major recalls the brilliance of the opening movement.
   

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. Schulze (2002b).↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:18+00:00 Es wartet alles auf dich BWV 187 / BC A 110 7 Seventh Sunday After Trinity. First performed 08/04/1726 in Leipzig (Cycle III). plain 2024-04-24T17:28:10+00:00 1726-08-04 BWV 187 Leipzig 50.979493, 11.323544 05Trinity07 Seventh Sunday After Trinity BC A 110 Johann Sebastian Bach Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Es wartet alles auf dich, BWV 187 / BC A 110" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 342 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig III

  Seventh Sunday after Trinity, August 4, 1726

  
  This cantata, Es wartet alles auf dich BWV 187 (All are waiting upon you), originated in 1726 and was first performed on August 4, the seventh Sunday after Trinity. The time of its composition and its structure show that it belongs to a sequence of cantatas spanning the period from early February to late September 1726 that contains compositions by Johann Sebastian Bach as well as his Meiningen cousin Johann Ludwig Bach. A striking commonality among these works, roughly twenty-five in total, is the structure of their texts. They begin with a passage from the Old Testament, followed by a recitative and aria in free poetry. Another biblical passage follows, this time from the New Testament, which is followed by another aria, a recitative, and a closing chorale strophe. Only relatively recently has Bach research identified the reason for this remarkable coincidence. All the compositions—seven by Johann Sebastian Bach, eighteen by Johann Ludwig Bach—go back to a uniform cantata text cycle. At first, only a reprint of this text cycle was known, remarkably also from 1726, with the title Sonn- und Fest-Tags-Andachten über die ordentlichen Evangelia (Sunday and feast day devotions on the regular Gospels). Shortly before the turn of the twenty-first century, what is presumably the oldest print of this cycle was discovered. It was published in 1704 under nearly the same title, stipulating that the poems were to be set to music “In der Hochfürstl. Sachs. Meining. Hof-Capell” (In the royal Sachs. Meining. court chapel). In addition, another edition dated 1719 came to light, this one mentioned briefly in 1856 by the author and historian Ludwig Bechstein. It showed that the Meiningen cycle in this new edition of 1719 must have been available to Bach in 1726.¹
  
  Nothing is known about the author of this annual cycle of texts. Presumably, he is to be sought near Meiningen, where the first edition of 1704 was likely published. Indeed, many individual texts were set to music by Johann Ludwig Bach’s predecessor Georg Caspar Schürmann.² Johann Ludwig Bach began his tenure as Hofkapellmeister in 1711 and is likely to have composed the cantatas in question no later than the second decade of the eighteenth century. One possibility worth mentioning is that the unnamed author may have been none other than the duke of Meiningen, Ernst Ludwig. Ten years after the death of the duke, a lexicon of the period stated that among the holdings in the Royal Library at Meiningen were to be found “in his hand . . . two complete annual cycles of church music, which were performed in the castle church at Meiningen.”³ What is meant here, at least according to our present knowledge, is not musical compositions but more likely libretti for church music. Moreover, it can be assumed that many of these texts were composed several times, even if proof of multiple compositions is found only here and there. Georg Caspar Schürmann could have been the first, in 1705; after him—probably soon after 1711—Johann Ludwig Bach; and in 1726, Johann Sebastian Bach. The Rudolstadt print of 1726 has evidence of another composer, who may have been Johann Graf, Kapellmeister at the Schwarzburg royal seat. 
  
  All the text editions named above contain the express notice that the poems relate to the ordentlich (regular or usual) Gospel texts. Actually, this confirmation was unnecessary, since the relation to the Gospel reading of the Sunday cannot be overlooked, even if the cantata text does not include literal quotations. This is the case for the text of the cantata Es wartet alles auf dich; it is nevertheless closely bound to the Gospel reading for the seventh Sunday after Trinity, as expected. This reading is found in Mark 8 and deals with 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 librettist of our cantata places two appropriate verses from Psalm 104 at the beginning: “Es wartet alles auf dich, daß du ihnen Speise gebet zu seiner Zeit. Wenn du ihnen gibest, so sammeln sie, wenn du deine Hand antust, so werden sie mit Güte gesättigt” (27–28; All are waiting upon you, that you give them food in due time. When you give it to them, they gather it; when you offer your hand, then they are filled with goodness). The poet chooses Alexandrine meter for the recitative that follows. The motto of this movement could be “The Goodness of God in Nature”:

  Was Kreaturen hegt das große Runde der Welt!
  Schau doch die Berge an, da sie bei tausend gehen;
  Was zeuget nicht die Flut? Es wimmeln Ström und Seen.
  Der Vögel großes Heer zieht durch die Luft zu Feld.
  Wer nähret solche Zahl?
  Und wer vermag ihr wohl die Notdurft abzugeben?
  Kann irgendein Monarch nach solcher Ehre streben?
  Zahlt aller Erden Gold ihr wohl ein einig Mahl?
  
  What creatures are nourished by the great orb of the world!
  Just look at the mountains as they roll out to thousands;
  What does the torrent not bring forth? Streams and lakes are teeming.
  The great flock of birds moves through the air to the field.
  Who nurtures such multitudes?
  And who might be able to fulfill their needs?
  Can any monarch strive after such honor?
  Could all the earth’s gold buy them a single meal?

  
  Christian Fürchtegott Gellert’s Die Himmel rühmen des Ewigen Ehre (The heavens praise the honor of the eternal) seems to be anticipated here, even as the cantata poet hews closely to the biblical text, in particular, Psalm 104. This is true in even greater measure for the first aria, on a verse from Psalm 65: “Du krönest das Jahr mit deinem Gut, und deine Fußstapfen triefen von Fett” (12; You crown the year with your goodness, and the paths of your feet drip with fat). The aria text is derived from it:

  Du Herr, du krönst allein das Jahr mit deinem Gut.
  Es träufet Fett und Segen
  Auf allen deines Fußes Wegen,
  Und deine Gnade ists, die allen Gutes tut.
  
  You, Lord, you alone crown the year with your goodness.
  Fat and blessings drip
  Upon the paths of your feet,
  And your grace it is that does all goodness.

  
  The cantata poet begins the second part of the cantata once again with a biblical passage, this one appropriate for the feeding of the four thousand. Taken from the sixth chapter of Matthew (and actually belonging to the Gospel reading for the fifteenth Sunday after Trinity), it is the warning against the worries of those of little faith: “Darum sollt ihr nicht sorgen noch sagen: Was werden wir essen, was werden wir trinken, womit werden wir uns kleiden? Nach solchem allen trachten die Heiden, denn euer himmlischer Vater weiß, daß ihr dies alles bedürfet” (31–32; Therefore should you neither worry nor say: What will we eat, what will we drink, with what will we clothe ourselves? After all, for such things do the heathen strive, for your heavenly Father knows that you have need of all of these). The trust in God expressed here characterizes both of the last freely versified movements, the aria “Gott versorget alles Leben” (God cares for all life) and the recitative “Halt ich nur fest an ihm mit kindlichem Vertrauen” (If I only hold fast to him with child-like trust). The cantata concludes with two strophes from Hans Vogel’s chorale of 1563 Singen wir aus Herzensgrund (Let us sing from the depths of our hearts): “Gott hat die Erde zugericht, / Läßts an Nahrung mangeln nicht” (God has established the earth, / Allows no lack of nourishment) and finally “Wir danken sehr und bitten ihn, / Daß er uns geb des Geistes Sinn” (We greatly thank and pray to him / That he will grant us the Spirit’s mind).
  
  The composition of this wide-ranging, meaningful, and grateful text displays the cantor of St. Thomas School at the height of his powers of invention and creativity. As expected, Bach sets the opening psalm text as a choral movement. In accord with the gravity and intensity of the text, he implemented canon and fugue as the predominant formal principles. The length of the text permitted scarcely any other possibility than stating one phrase after the other in a motet-like fashion, but even so, the composer still took the opportunity at the end to recall the text and music from the beginning in abbreviated form, creating a satisfyingly rounded conclusion. In the third movement, an aria, Bach combines a dance gesture with a full instrumental sonority. The rich blessings described in the text are reflected in the emphatic harmonies of the entire string ensemble.
  
  The New Testament passage at the beginning of the cantata’s second part is given to the bass voice, the vox Christi. Gravity and intensity predominate here as well, this time symbolized by the spartan simplicity of the three-part alla breve texture comprising voice, basso continuo, and strings in unison and the unassuming, unadorned, and straightforward theme. On the other hand, in the soprano aria “Gott versorget alles Leben,” overflowing gratitude is reflected in the expansive melodic garlands of the obbligato oboe. The middle section of this aria, with contrasting meter and tempo, is devoted to the call “Weicht, ihr Sorgen” (Retreat, you cares) until, in closing, the heavily expressive instrumental Adagio of the beginning is recalled. The cantata closes with a simple choral setting of the sixteenth-century melody Da Christus geboren war (When Jesus was born).
  
  About a decade after its first performance the cantata was repurposed in a remarkable fashion. Bach included its arioso solo movements as well as the opening chorus in the concluding portions of his Mass in G Minor BWV 235. Although he drew upon other cantatas as the source movements for the Kyrie and Gloria, he fashioned the “Gratias agimus” from the “Darum sollt ihr nicht sorgen” in the second part of our cantata. Its magnificent alto aria “Du Herr, du krönst allein das Jahr” became the “Domini Fili unigenite”; the soprano solo “Gott versorget alles Leben” served as the source for the “Qui tollis” and “Quoniam”; finally, the main part of the opening chorus became "Cum Sancto Spiritu." There has been much argument about the apparent incongruity between the original and the arrangement. What is decisive, however, is that Bach dared to associate such fundamentally different texts because of his high estimation of the cantata movements’ qualities of invention and development and, hence, their flexibility and versatility.

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  Footnotes

  1. Blankenburg (1977); Schulze (2002b).↵
  2. Kuster (1987).↵
  3. “Von seiner Hand . . . 2 völlige Jahr-Gänge Kirchen-Music welche auch in der Schloß-Kirche zu Meiningen ist musicieret worden.”—Trans.↵