The Light of Faith in Sound, Part II: Bach's Vision of Sacred Time

Welcome back to this short series on J.S. Bach and his unparalleled Lutheran intellect and imagination. In Part I, we introduced the significance of Bach's music, his debt to Luther, and his predecessors in the Lutheran tradition. This essay will focus on some specifics of Bach's life and work for the Lutheran Church. What was he intending to do when he poured his prodigious musical gifts into rearranging and interpreting the established canon of hymns for his congregations and listeners?

The centerpiece of Bach's body of work is his collection of approximately 200 sacred cantatas composed for performance in Lutheran Divine Services. It is my contention that this canon ought to be considered the pinnacle and consummation of the great Lutheran church music tradition, and that all Lutherans should have familiarity with it. Though not nearly as popular among lay listeners and even classical enthusiasts as his instrumental music and even his large-scale sacred works like the Passions and the Mass in B Minor, there is no better way to understand the soul of this great artist than by paying close attention to them. But we ought not to listen to them just because they are "important". Rather, we should delight in them because the beauty of this music matches the crystalline purity of the theology behind it. But how might the average Lutheran begin to approach the undeniably daunting task of entering into this immense oeuvre with words in a different language, musical idioms foreign to the contemporary ear, and no clear starting point for what to listen to?

A cantata is, very broadly speaking, any composition that features singing (Latin, cantare = "to sing") in service of a theme or narrative on either sacred or secular themes. But in Bach's time in mid-18th-century Germany, it meant a multi-movement musical gloss on the content of a Sunday service, introducing and expounding the Scripture readings, hymn of the day, and sermon themes necessitated by the corresponding occasion in the Church Year. A brief overview of Bach's life will be helpful for situating his music within its proper context.

His first full-time job was as organist at the church of the small town of Arnstadt in his late teens. Only one cantata survives from this time, but we have a few more from his second position in Mühlhausen in 1707-08. He was only 22 years old then, but this is where his first masterpieces were composed, including the stunning Easter work Christ Lag in Todes Banden, BWV 4, and the poignant funeral cantata "Actus Tragicus", BWV 106. Shortly thereafter, he accepted a job in Weimar, where he would stay for nine years. Although mainly in charge of the choir and organ, he contributed a handful of cantatas per year. These are distinguished by their colorful, expressive use of instruments and an emotive style that was to be slightly matured and reigned-in later on. The use of hymns was rather sparing; the infinite possibilities of what could be done with them had not yet crossed his mind. There then followed a six-year interlude in Köthen, whose Calvinist leadership had no place for music in the church. Though he wrote many of his instrumental masterpieces here for harpsichord, organ, violin, cello, and orchestra, his desire to write church music again was undoubtedly at the front of his mind when he accepted an offer from Leipzig's St. Thomas Church to be the Thomaskantor in 1723. Here he received the opportunity to exercise his chops to the fullest, and where he fully fleshed out the concept of the chorale-based cantata—a work that takes us through a familiar hymn with explications and asides, much like a commentary on the Bible.

For his first year in Leipzig, he wrote cantatas for about half of the Church Year. But in 1724-25, he decided to undergo one of the most audacious artistic projects ever undertaken: the composition of one cantata for every Sunday of the year, plus feast and festival days! (sans the penitential seasons of Advent and Lent, wherein no music was allowed in this particular parish). This challenge was set entirely by himself, and he not only met it, but exceeded it wildly. Each week, Bach would realistically have had only three days to assemble his texts and write this dazzlingly complex and insightful music, followed by the rest of the week to teach it to his singers and players. Let us admit that a sheer drive for excellence and for praising God was not sufficient to complete this project—natural talent was also needed in droves. In the following years, his cantata output slowed, though he also produced several later masterpieces. Most of his time was spent instead revising and recycling cantatas from Weimar and the first two Leipzig years, working endlessly to sculpt and polish his previous compositions.

What are the components of a cantata? The text would often consist solely of Scripture and verses from the hymn, but Bach would also insert poetic paraphrases of Scripture and of basic theological principles. These texts (or librettos) were already in circulation and intended to be used by composers of cantatas. Within the context of the Service, the cantata is placed after the Scripture readings and before the sermon. It functions as a summation of the entire Service, a meditation on the readings, and a preview of the upcoming sermon. Having heard the Word, the congregation is offered an opportunity to contemplate it through musical commentary, and their hearts are prepared to take in the sermon. A standard cantata is written for a small orchestra of strings, woodwinds, and sometimes other instruments; a keyboard continuo of organ and/or harpsichord, along with a choir and SATB soloists. These vocal and instrumental forces are utilized differently throughout the work to communicate various ideas. A cantata consists of several individual movements (usually 4-8, but occasionally more) that can be divided into three types: choruses, recitatives, and arias. The cantata is typically bookended by pieces for full choir and orchestra, i.e. choruses—the first movement usually the longest and most involved, and the last movement a short, simple setting. Recitatives (res-uh-ta-TEEFS) are settings of longer chunks of text, delivered by a soloist in a "half-sung, half-spoken" manner with interjections from the instruments. These are short transitional movements that introduce the arias—longer pieces on shorter texts. In a standard Bach aria, the orchestra introduces a melody, then the soloist takes it up and elaborates upon it. All told, a cantata usually occupied 15-25 minutes of a service, although there are some that extend up to 40 minutes.

A stylistic feature that is crucial to note from this examination of form is the juxtaposition of the sermonic and the devotional. This reflects the basic principle that governs the Liturgy: Christ's gifts are bestowed upon us, prompting the response of the believer. The pastor speaks or chants the Word of admonishment, declaration, and compassion; and we respond with contrition, affirmation, and thanksgiving (for a microcosm of this, consider the Communion liturgy: Lift up your hearts...) In the same way, many movements of the cantatas come from a "pastoral" perspective, delivering injunctions for good works and statements of confessional dogma. But other movements represent the intimate groanings, yearnings, and ecstasies of the soul when faced with these truths. Written in the first person, they pledge faithfulness to Christ and mortification of the flesh, offer unbounded songs of praise, and, in one of the cantatas' more prevalent themes, cry out to the Lord in pangs of suffering and doubt. Of course, every cantata is resolved with the assurances of faith. But in this way, the cantatas take on a manner quite similar to the Psalter, which Luther called a complete representation of the hearts of all the saints throughout time.

It can be said, then, that Bach was a theologian of the highest order. He understood what it means to seek the face of God and to transmute these seekings into art. He also had a complete grasp of the essence of Lutheran theology; no topic of catechesis, dogmatics, or, indeed, human experience in general cannot be found in the cantatas. Yet at no point does his theological acumen become something cold, aloof, or pontificating. The pastor does not and cannot preach solely from an outsiders' perspective; he, too, is a man and a sinner, and he delivers the Law and Gospel because he knows from his experience as well as all humanity's that they are necessary for life. Bach realized, as the great devotional poet George Herbert said in a moving poem about the nature of the ministry called "Windows," that man is "but a brittle crazy glass" whom God nonetheless chooses as a medium for his glory. Thus Bach is unafraid to speak as a mere mortal responding to revelation in addition to the authoritative voice of a dogmatician. He knew, not only from personal experience (he endured the death of half of his 20 children, and once returned from a trip to find that he had not been informed of his wife's death, and that she was already buried) but from an acute knowledge of the human condition that death is frightful, that our lot on earth is rough, and that it can be extraordinarily difficult to resist the temptations of the flesh and place complete trust in Christ. These struggles and doubts bleed through his music, but the radiant light of faith in sound always beams forth in full glory. So like all good art, Bach's music can teach us how to weep and suffer in a manner becoming of our nature. But it never loses sight of the ultimate telos of our pilgrimage in this world and the great rewards which are inherent to the life of simul justus et peccator. This, ultimately, is the purpose of a cantata in Bach's mind.

Bach never would have guessed, nor would he have expected, that his cantatas would ever circulate outside of the church for which he wrote them. They were intended to be incorporated into the life of a specific community on specific days of the year. They were meant to imbue the passage of time with intense inner meaning; to bring light and life to the tapestry of the church calendar and its passage through the entirety of Scripture. They were heard by a very ordinary group of parishioners who probably did not come close to fully appreciating the magnitude of Bach's intentions and achievements. Did the sublime harmonies, polyphony, and heartrending text settings of the cantatas ring in their ears the rest of the day and week? We can only conjecture. But they can do so for us if only we listen with joy and attentiveness.

This makes the position of the Lutheran approaching Bach for the first time highly advantageous as compared to the standard listener faced with a daunting body of work based on music with which they are unfamiliar. Anyone with a strong Lutheran background has already overcome the primary obstacle that forces most casual listeners to halt their exploration of Bach beyond his most popular compositions. His instrumental music certainly brings "glory to God and refreshment to the soul" (his own stated ideal of what music should do) by perfecting the arrangement of abstract sounds through formal ingenuity and unparalleled depths of expression. But we must look to his treatment of chorales if we are to understand why he wanted to write music like this in the first place. Ultimately, none of his work can be fully grasped without an understanding of his ultimate liturgical and theological mission. And we best ascertain that mission by immersing ourselves in the mundane weekly works which he expected never to be published or performed by others.

Therefore, the most helpful way for a Lutheran to approach any given cantata is to hone in on the chorale(s) in question. Find the English version in a contemporary hymnal such as the Lutheran Service Book and follow along. For the additional text and the more obscure chorales not found in hymnals (many of which ought to be restored to them), consult a translation, such as those available on the Bach Cantatas Website—cantatas should always be heard in conjunction with the text; there is no such thing as "pure music" in them. Everything paints the words. Listen for the unaltered melody which, in the opening movement, is often present in the soprano section of the choir. If the tune is unfamiliar, listen to the concluding movement—the straightforward four-part setting—to get the music and its thematic concerns into your head before embarking on the journey. Then ponder your own experience with the hymn and the perceptions from the church year it evokes. Does this hymn remind you of a chilly winter evening with warm light and Christmas trees in the sanctuary? Or the bittersweet hope of a funeral? Does it bring to mind the exultant joy of a high festival in springtime like Easter or Pentecost? Or the sober penitence of Lent? Or perhaps a certain hymn has spoken deeply into your life before with its message of repentance, forgiveness, divine love, the promises of Baptism, or the assurance of eternal life. Think about the emotions you would typically associate with it. Then listen to what Bach does with this beloved song of the Church, sometimes altering it beyond recognition, sometimes lightly enhancing it, but always elucidating it for its ultimate meaning, fortifying it with the fruits of a sanctified imagination rooted in the theology and anthropology of Scripture.

There comes a point when writing about any work of art becomes utterly futile, and can only serve its purpose when the reader has actually experienced the work in question. With that in mind, it would be easy to leave you, the reader and prospective listener, to your own devices to explore this infinitely rewarding treasure trove of Lutheran music. But let's be honest—this is a massive collection of music! Where does one even start? Like all Bach enthusiasts, I have my own ideas about which cantatas are the greatest of them all. But rather than burdening you with my opinions, I think that a much more sensible, exciting—and, for the Lutheran, natural—way of diving into this canon is to listen to a cantata that corresponds to the current week of the Church Calendar. Relate it to the readings, hymns, and sermon that you heard last Sunday. If you're listening with your family, you may find it helpful to read the week's Scripture passages from the lectionary, along with the cantata's entire text aloud before experiencing the music—that way everyone will know the message and details to listen for ahead of time. But the most important thing you can do? Enjoy! Never forget that Bach intended his cantatas as gifts to the faithful in their ever-present need for nourishment in the life of sanctification. Though he would never have imagined that these gifts would enjoy such a worldwide reception outside of the German parishes in which he worked, their joys and delights ever await to be perpetually unwrapped by the Church.

In the final installment, we will take a look at three of Bach's arrangements of a chorale by Luther, then offer some closing thoughts on Bach's centrality to classical education and Western culture.

Davis C. Smith is an MA student at Hillsdale College's Graduate School of Classical Education. His research interests include aesthetics, hymnody and liturgics, the Western literary tradition, the intersection of Athens and Jerusalem; and the theology of Augustine, Luther, and Kierkegaard. His work has been featured by the Sigma Tau Delta Review, Voegelin View, and the Consortium for Classical Lutheran Education.