The St John Passion was first performed in the Nicolaikirche in Leipzig on Good Friday in 1724. A year previously, Bach had been appointed Kantor at the Thomaskirche, a post which carried responsibilities for the provision of music at both the town’s major churches. The practice of performing the Passion at Vestpers on Good Friday had its roots in early Christian liturgical practice, the intonation of the passion story was an intrinsic part of the observation of Holy Week. By mediaeval times, the plainsong was shared amongst different voices, creating a dialogue (rather than a mere account) which paved the way for the more dramatic settings which were to follow. In turn, parts were taken by chorus, representing the crowd, or, in Latin, turbae. The motet-passion grew up across Catholic Europe and examples by such stalwarts of Renaissance choral music as Lassus, Byrd and Victoria still survive.
Settings in the vernacular first appeared in the sixteenth century, Johann Walther setting Luther’s translations of the gospels of St John and St Matthew as early as 1530. By the 17th century, passion settings had moved to a new level in which extra text (not taken from scripture) was introduced. The ‘oratorio passion’, which we see in settings by Telemann, Kuhnau and others was the direct antecedent for Bach’s settings, yet, as with his adoption of several other musical structures, Bach significantly adapts and elevates the form, effectively ‘dramatising’ the gospel story through the individual characterisation of both narrative and commentary.
The narrative is taken from chapters 18 and 19 of St John’s Gospel. Bach adds to this two very short sections from the account of St Matthew – Peter’s bitter weeping after his denial, and the earthquake in which the veil of the temple is torn from top to bottom – two moments which are portrayed with some of the most evocative writing in the work, and clearly added to the St John account for their dramatic resonance. The narrative, taken entirely from scripture, is punctuated by texts written by Bach himself (though heavily based on similar texts by Brockes, Postel and other writers of the last 17th and early 18th centuries).
The narrative is sung by the Evangelist (a tenor role) who tells the story as though he were himself the Gospel writer. He sings in recitative style, familiar to those acquainted with 18th century opera and the conventional musical means for conveying large sections of text economically. However, Bach’s recitative is often far from prosaic, the composer regularly taking the opportunity to colour certain passages of text through the shortening and lengthening of notes within a phrase, the use of jagged rhythms (to portray violence), or (as in the account of Peter weeping bitterly) lines of excruciating chromaticism. Jesus and Pilate join the Evangelist for the narrative, along with a number of individuals who are given direct speech by the Gospel writer. The chorus (divided into four conventional parts) assumes the role of the crowd, their contributions often chillingly bloodthirsty, as when Pilate asks ‘Whom seek ye?’ and they respond with the piercing cry ‘Jesus of Nazareth’. Bach’s depiction of the crowd is ingenious, with complex counterpoint weaving rapidly between voices and busy instrumental lines to emphasise the chaos of the baying mob, whilst the searing dissonance of the ‘Crucify’ choruses underlines their malice and presages the agony that is to come for Christ himself.
The commentary – that is to say the non-scriptural text – takes the form of arias and ariosos sung by the soloists, and chorales sung by the choir. In the aria texts, the individual meditates on the events of the Passion, sometimes from the point of view of an outside observer, sometimes identifying with one of the characters (as in the tenor aria ‘Ah my soul’ following Peter’s denial, in which the music suggests the disciple’s state of impassioned shame and regret). The arias are rich in word-painting and religious symbolism, but also contain some of Bach’s most beautiful writing, Obbligato instruments often created duet or trio texture with the singer, as in the soprano aria ‘I follow with gladness’ in which the semiquavers running imitatively between flutes and voice suggest one running after, or following, another. The chorales are the response of the people and often phrased in the first person – ‘Jesu, turn to look on me who persist in sinning’. Again, Bach’s re-harmonisation of what would have been well-known hymn tunes elevates a familiar form to a new level.
In addition to the narrative and commentary that make up the body of text, the whole work is framed by two monumental choruses. The first, ’Lord and master’, with its relentless rhythmic drive, repetitive bass and sense of a gathering storm, suggests the immensity of the story that is to follow; the closing chorus ‘Sleep well’ is a lullaby of extraordinary beauty, rich in motifs symbolising Christ being laid to rest in the tomb. However, unlike the St Matthew Passion the St John Passion does not close with this chorus, but rather with a concluding chorale, signalling hope and redemption.
Scholars are divided over the question of congregational participation in the chorales: some say that the inclusion of such familiar hymns inevitably suggests the involvement of the faithful, others that the complexity of Bach’s settings precludes the possibility. What is certain, however, is that Bach’s soloists would have ‘stepped out’ from the chorus when singing the St John Passion. The very same singer who condemns Christ to death as a member of the chorus could find himself uttering Christ’s own words in the also aria of heart-rending beauty ‘It is fulfilled’, and then seeking forgiveness in the words of one of the beseeching chorales. Bach’s sermon in music shows how each of us might so easily have found ourselves in the bloodthirsty crown and might so easily have denied Jesus as Peter did, but what it also seeks to show us is the transforming and redeeming power of the cross. That it conveys such a message in music of such consummate skill and beauty secures for the St John Passion its place in history as one of the greatest works of art ever conceived, and its place in the hearts of all those who hear its music and its message in the 21st century.
© Mark Williams
