Bach wrote two cantatas for the 25th Sunday after Trinity, and I chose the later one - BWV 116, Du Friedefürst, Herr Jesu Christ (Thou Prince of Peace, Lord Jesus Christ, Leipzig 1724). This is a chorale cantata about the Second Coming. Musically, it's magnificent; the opening chorale, the trio in the fourth movement, and following alto recitative are absolutely brilliant, and the rest of the cantata matches up. Theologically, it's schizophrenic, but then that's 18th Century Lutheran theology when it comes to the second coming - the event itself will be glorious, but Augustinian guilt makes Bach and his contemporaries wail that they don't deserve it, and the chaos surrounding the event (wars, persecution, etc., see Revelation!) is the result of that lack in humanity. Heh, heh! I give you the late Craig Smith's essay as a perfect example of the 20th Century mind's perplexity at 18th Century theology:
Cantata BWV 116 Du Friedefürst, Herr Jesu Christ was
composed in Leipzig in 1724. The section from Paul’s letter to the
Thessalonians is one of the most radiant passages from all of the
Epistles, a vision of paradise that comes to the blessed. Bach chooses
the perfect chorale to illustrate these two points of view, for the text
of “Du Friedefürst, Herr Jesu Christ” is remarkably of two
minds about the Last Judgment. In the very first verse the joyful and
positive picture of the Prince of Peace degenerates into a cry for help.
Is there something disappointing about this chorus? It is a musically
euphonious and wonderfully energetic piece. There is great profile and
an interesting shape to it, with simple block statements of the chorale
phrases alternating with fugal settings of the bottom three voices
underpinning the long notes of the sopranos in the 3rd and 4th phrases.
All of this would seem fine if the rest of the cantata didn’t live up to
a much higher standard. In fact with the trio at the end we have one of
the loftiest peaks of Bach’s inspiration, a major theological statement
that separates him from virtually all other artists. Why does this
opening chorus not measure up? One possible answer that the character of
the opening chorus is not what it seems. If one sees those block
chorale phrases and the general energy as militaristic – Christ as the
soldier, not always the comforter – then the progression of isolation in
the alto aria to supplication in the trio becomes more understandable.
The alto aria, with oboe d’amore obbligato, begins with a
tortured, jagged melody all the more painful because it is circular and
seemingly in a never-ending series of sequences. The continuo seems to
ratchet up the thumbscrews. When the voice enters with “Ach” it
is unable to finish its sentence. Gradually the horror is spoken and
the first 2 lines of text are declaimed. It is interesting that Bach
keeps the same kind of declamation for the next lines of text, as if the
“Ach” was always in the back of his mind.
Bach reminds us that the chorale described the “Prince of
Peace” by using the first phrase as a bass in the tenor recitative. It
has the inadvertent effect of reminding us of the “traveling” music that
Mozart often introduces into his Italian recitatives to denote a
passage of time. This has the same effect here, for there is an enormous
spiritual gulf between the stuttering, horrified alto aria and the
unearthly calm of the trio.
All three of the trios written for the cantatas in the 2nd
Jahrgang have a special quality. They are obviously ensembles, but they
have no sense of dialogue or love duets that we find in the duets. At
the same time they are more personal than the choruses. Our trio here
begins calmly, six rhythmically identical phrases each without a
downbeat, each like a soft breath of air, followed by a cadence. The
three voices enter one by one. One notices that the tenor part is
actually identical to the continuo introduction except that it provides
downbeats. It actually makes phrases out of a neutral pattern of notes.
The imitation of the three voices is very sophisticated. The text
underlay is interesting. Bach seizes upon the word “Geduld” ‘patience’
and repeats it over and over. The third line of text intensifies the
longing and the melancholy of the music and makes a modulation to the
dominant. After a relentlessly contrapuntal texture, the very personal
and heartbreaking confession that our sins broke your (Jesus) heart, and
that the pain of Adam made you come into this world, is set in blocks.
Very close and rich faux bourdon harmony personalizes this
whole middle section. The work is in a very complex da capo form. The
whole first 39 bars are repeated and a long section using the third line
of text is newly composed to end the work in the tonic. The emotional
distance traveled from the alto aria to this point is almost unequaled
in all of Bach. The renewed ferocity of the string entrance in the alto
recitative almost makes the trio seem like a circumscribed event. The
effect is very like the renewing of the action after the soprano aria “Aus Liebe will mein Heiland sterben” in the St. Matthew Passion. The final chorale has the same strange emotional neutrality of the opening chorus.
© Craig Smith, adapted by Ryan Turner
Today's performance is a magnificent one just released on YouTube by the J.S. Bach Foundation of Trogen, Switzerland, under the direction of Rudolf Lutz. Enjoy!
Photo © 2018 by A. Roy Hilbinger