O Haupt voll Blut

"THE" Passion hymn, with music arranged by Bach. Lyrics in English and German below. Have a Good Friday.



O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown;
O sacred Head, what glory, what bliss till now was Thine!
Yet, though despised and gory, I joy to call Thee mine.

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners’ gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior! ’Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

Men mock and taunt and jeer Thee, Thou noble countenance,
Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee and flee before Thy glance.
How art thou pale with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish that once was bright as morn!

Now from Thy cheeks has vanished their color once so fair;
From Thy red lips is banished the splendor that was there.
Grim death, with cruel rigor, hath robbed Thee of Thy life;
Thus Thou hast lost Thy vigor, Thy strength in this sad strife.

My burden in Thy Passion, Lord, Thou hast borne for me,
For it was my transgression which brought this woe on Thee.
I cast me down before Thee, wrath were my rightful lot;
Have mercy, I implore Thee; Redeemer, spurn me not!

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.

My Shepherd, now receive me; my Guardian, own me Thine.
Great blessings Thou didst give me, O source of gifts divine.
Thy lips have often fed me with words of truth and love;
Thy Spirit oft hath led me to heavenly joys above.

Here I will stand beside Thee, from Thee I will not part;
O Savior, do not chide me! When breaks Thy loving heart,
When soul and body languish in death’s cold, cruel grasp,
Then, in Thy deepest anguish, Thee in mine arms I’ll clasp.

The joy can never be spoken, above all joys beside,
When in Thy body broken I thus with safety hide.
O Lord of Life, desiring Thy glory now to see,
Beside Thy cross expiring, I’d breathe my soul to Thee.

My Savior, be Thou near me when death is at my door;
Then let Thy presence cheer me, forsake me nevermore!
When soul and body languish, oh, leave me not alone,
But take away mine anguish by virtue of Thine own!

Be Thou my consolation, my shield when I must die;
Remind me of Thy passion when my last hour draws nigh.
Mine eyes shall then behold Thee, upon Thy cross shall dwell,
My heart by faith enfolds Thee. Who dieth thus dies well.

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O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden,Voll Schmerz und voller Hohn,
O Haupt, zum Spott gebunden Mit einer Dornenkron’,
O Haupt, sonst schön gezieret Mit höchster Ehr’ und Zier,
Jetzt aber höchst schimpfieret; Gegrüßet sei’st du mir!

Du edles Angesichte, Davor sonst schrickt und scheut
Das große Weltgewichte, Wie bist du so bespeit!
Wie bist du so erbleichet! Wer hat dein Augenlicht,
Dem sonst kein Licht nicht gleichet, So schändlich zugericht’t?

Die Farbe deiner Wangen, Der roten Lippen Pracht
Ist hin und ganz vergangen; Des blaßen Todes Macht
Hat alles hingenommen, Hat alles hingerafft,
Und daher bist du kommen Von deines Leibes Kraft.

Nun, was du, Herr, erduldet, Ist alles meine Last;
Ich hab’ es selbst verschuldet, Was du getragen hast.
Schau her, hier steh’ ich Armer, Der Zorn verdienet hat;
Gib mir, o mein Erbarmer, Den Anblick deiner Gnad’!

Erkenne mich, mein Hüter, Mein Hirte, nimm mich an!
Von dir, Quell’ aller Güter, Ist mir viel Gut’s getan.
Dein Mund hat mich gelabet Mit Mich und süßer Kost;
Dein Geist hat mich begabet Mit mancher Himmelslust.

Ich will hier bei dir stehen, Verachte mich doch nicht!
Von dir will ich nicht gehen, Wenn dir dein Herze bricht;
Wenn dein haupt wird erblaßen Im letzten Todesstoß,
Alsdann will ich dich faßen In meinem Arm und Schoß.

Es dient zu meinen Freuden Und kommt mir herzlich wohl,
Wenn ich in deinem Leiden, Mein Heil, mich finden soll.
Ach, möcht’ ich, o mein Leben, An deinem Kreuze hier
Mein Leben von mir geben, Wie wohl geschähe mir!

Ich danke dir von Herzen, O Jesu, liebster Freund,
Für deines Todes Schmerzen, Da du’s so gut gemeint.
Ach gib, daß ich mich halte Zu dir und deiner Treu’
Und, wenn ich nun erkalte, In dir mein Ende sei!

Wann ich einmal soll scheiden, So scheide nicht von mir,
Wenn ich den Tod soll leiden, So tritt du dann herfür;
Wenn mir am allerbängsten Wird um das Herze sein,
So reiß mich aus den Ängsten Kraft deiner Angst und Pein!

Erscheine mir zum Schilde, Zum Trost in meinem Tod,
Und laß mich sehn dein Bilde In deiner Kreuzesnot!
Da will ich nacht dir blicken, Da will ich glaubensvoll
Dich fest an mein Herz drücken. Wer so stirbt, der stirbt wohl.

It is Finished

21 months ago, I purchased the complete works of Bach. 155 CDs. Yesterday I finished Disk #155.

I'm a little depressed.

Listening through Bach was like reading the entire Bible for the first time, with new discoveries on every page (or track, as the case may be). Bach repeatedly astounded me with his mastery, his variety, his profundity, his energy, his joy. The world was not worthy of him, but we are the richer because he lived.

Toward the end of this collection, I became acutely aware that the joy of discovery was soon to be over. Often, I found myself hitting the "Replay" button, wanting to get every last bit out of the last few disks.As Dingeman van Wijnen put it in the liner notes for one of the CDs, speaking of one cantata's amazing closing chorale:

It is one of those moments in Bach where the first hearing brings us the sad certainty that we will never again be able to hear it for the first time.

Never again for the first time. But a lifetime's worth of depths to plumb.

So what's next? Start over? Move on to the complete works of Mozart (whom I mostly hate, 170 CDs) or Beethoven (85 CDs)? While I mull this over, I think I'll revisit some of my older CDs that got neglected during the Bachfest. Perhaps I'll start with Jacques Loussier, who does cool jazz versions of, ahem, Bach compositions. . .

Can Beauty Exist Without the Transcendent? Sebastian and Fred Duke it Out on the Pianoforte

I recently read a book by James R. Gaines entitled Evening in the Palace of Reason: Bach Meets Frederick the Great in the Age of Enlightenment. This lively book is a fascinating dual biography of two men who lived contemporaneously, met exactly once, and had radically different world views. If you are interested in Bach, Enlightenment history, or philosophy, it's worth checking out.

Bach was what we now would call "old school." He believed there was a God in heaven who governed the affairs of man and was worthy of our worship. He preached sin and redemption in his music, and saw Jesus as the only hope of mankind. As a master composer and performer, the saw the purpose of music as something to glorify God and build up the soul. Even his "secular" works were dedicated to God.

Frederick, on the other hand, was a man of the Enlightenment. He believed that man was the master of his destiny and that science, government, warfare, and art would bring about the best of all possible worlds. As King of Prussia, the forerunner of today's Germany, he captured much territory, began to unite the disparate nation-states of that area, and was arguably the most powerful man of his time. (And you say, "Who?")

Bach and Frederick the Great met each other exactly once, when Bach came to visit his son Carl Philipp Emanuel, who was in the king's employ as a musician. Frederick, himself a musician of modest ability, presented Bach with a theme that he (or Carl?) had written, and he challenged Bach to play a three-part fugue on this convoluted, rather unmusical theme. Apparently this was a taunt and a mean challenge, but Bach rose to the occasion, and according to a newspaper report of the time, astounded his hearers with the fugue he improvised.

Not to be shown up, Frederick challenged Bach further by asking him to improvise a six-part theme. Bach couldn't do it, and Frederick sent him home with his tail between his legs. The tail came out a couple months later, however, when Bach mailed off to Frederick what we now know as "The Musical Offering," which includes not only a six-part fugure on the king's theme, but several other pieces which use the theme as a starting point. Even the title "Musical Offering" is an interesting invention, as it can also be translated "Musical Sacrifice." Every indication is that Frederick's theme was designed to show that Bach wasn't such a wonderful musician, after all...to cut him down to size by presenting a royal theme beyond Bach's compositional or improvisatorial abilities. Bach was "sacrificed" on the altar of Frederick's malevolence (Frederick at this point in his life being a lover of only himself - he came from one messed-up family, that's for sure), but Bach came back to life and wrote something that is still played and listened to today. Few people, on the other hand, bother to read the books Frederick wrote.

All of this is simply excessive set-up to a quote from Gaines's book that draws an interesting distinction between beauty and prettiness. Without religion, can beauty exist?

Bach's Musical Offering leaves us, among other things, a compelling case for the following proposition: that a world without a sense of the transcendent and mysterious, a universe ultimately discoverable through reason alone, can only be a barren place; and that the music sounding forth from such a world might be very pretty, but it can never be beautiful.

Cranach Groupies

A friendly reminder: If you haven't yet read my Cranach post from last week, please do. I labored on it for months, just for you.

It turns out that someone beat me to the punch on my post, though. Paul McCain has an entire website dedicated to this painting. So if you haven't had enough yet, please check out what he's put together. More good stuff.

By the way, have you ever wondered what Ein Feste Burg ("A Mighty Fortress") might have sounded like in Luther's own time (1483-1546)? Check out the following YouTube clip - boring video but good audio:



And Bach (1685-1750)? He did several versions of this hymn. Here's one that his son, Wilhelm Friedemann (1710-1784), later augmented with timpani and trumpets. The first photo is a Luther painting by Cranach, the second is believed to be the last painting of Papa Bach only a month or so before his death, and the third is Friedemann:

Ein Feste Burg, And All That Stuff. A Favorite Painting - Cranach in Weimar

I've posted so many things sympathetic to the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox church that some of my Presbyterian friends may be questioning my bona fides. But as John Paul II would say, "Do not be afraid!" Perhaps this post will help to reestablish "(w)here I stand."
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This post is an attempt at art appreciation. I freely admit that I am a marketer, not an artist, so if you happen to notice flagrant ignorance, please feel free to correct me (gently).
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I've been working on this blog post off and on for many months, and it is very long, so you may not want to try to read it all at one sitting. The pictures are nice, though, so I hope that will be enough to entice you to come back a few times and read the whole thing.
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I suppose there's a handful of paintings I'd call my "favorite," but if I had the opportunity to take one, and only one, with me into exile, it would be Cranach's magnificent altarpiece triptych which can be found in the Herderkirche in Weimar, Germany.
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I have a special relationship with this painting. In my missionary days, when working in communist East Germany, we would have discipling meetings with the youth pastor and his wife in Weimar. His window faced the Herderkirche across the square, and I attended services there a few times (plus once afterwards, on a return visit years later). I also was able to hear some organ concerts there during the summers. Bach himself attended this church for a time, and a couple of his kids were baptized here. By then, the painting was about 150 years old, but the organ is a much newer affair, so it's not one he played.
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So during these services and concerts, I got to spend a lot of time looking at the painting. Maybe that's part of why I like it so much - that, plus the winsome way it portrays the salvation of the donors, the viewer, and the artist himself. I've even been up on the altar for a closer look, and have walked behind this work to see the other side (I think there's something painted on the back, too, but that's where memory fails me - probably it's just decoration for when the triptych is "closed").




The church goes by several names. In addition to Herderkirche (named after a German poet and philosopher of the Romantic period, whose statue now stands before the church), it is sometimes referred to as the Stadtkirche (city church), though its "official" name is the (Lutheran) Church of St. Peter and Paul. It was built between 1498-1500 and largely rebuilt after heavy damage sustained in WWII bombings.
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Though the church was originally Catholic, it became Lutheran during the Reformation, and barely twenty years after the Reformation reached Weimar, Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472-1553) was commissioned to paint this altarpiece. By that time, he and Luther had become friends, even godfathers to each other's children, and he had printed "Luther Bibles" on presses he owned. Cranach painted numerous portraits of Luther (and Luther's wife, Katie) over the years, becoming a sort of "painter of record" for Lutheran reformers. However, Cranach was multi-vocational: in addition to his painting and printing businesses, he owned a pharmacy in his town of Wittenberg (where Luther posted his 95 Theses) and served as mayor for a time.

Although the Calvinistic Reformers made a point of eliminating anything in a church that could be taken to be a "graven image" - statues, paintings, stained glass - not so Luther. He realized that every time someone hears a Bible story, he forms a picture in his mind of what that might have looked like. And if every hearer of the gospel has an image in his mind, "Why then should it be sinful to have it before my eyes?" As long as images were only reminders or teaching tools and not thought to be of intrinsic value, they were welcome.




So Cranach got to work at producing what's been called a work of "evangelical iconography." But he wasn't able to finish the painting before an exile from Weimar of about 5 years following the capture of his prince in a mini-war with the Catholics; he did return in 1552 after the Protestants returned to power, but died only a year later. His son, conveniently named Lucas Cranach the Younger (1515-1586), completed the work his father had begun. The portrait of "The Elder" which you see here was painted by "The Younger" in 1550.

The major donors for the painting were the leader of the Protestant Union, elector Johann Friedrich der Grossmutige, and his wife. Johann Friedrich is the aforementioned prince who was held captive from 1547-1552. Husband and wife are in the left wing of the triptych and their three sons are in the right wing, all of them praying toward the center painting.











The focal point, of course, is the remarkable center painting. Perhaps not remarkable for its artistry or technical sophistication (one commentator refers to its "dispiriting didacticism"), but for the theology and piety and immediacy that preach the Gospel in paint.

You can get a nice close-up of the painting on this site, but turn your volume down first to avoid the loud MIDI file. Click on the various figures you see there, or the directional hands below the painting, and you'll see even more detailed views. Alternatively, just keep reading, because I've reproduced those detailed views below (click on each figure to see a larger version) . . .



Expulsion from Paradise

Adam is driven from the Garden of Eden by fantastical creatures. The skeletal figure doing the prodding I take to be "death," but I'm not sure what to make of the club-wielding figure, which looks like a chicken with breasts.

Adam is moving along at a pretty good clip. Eve, however is nowhere to be seen. It was Adam's sin that made Christ's sacrifice necessary.





















The Ten Commandments

This is presumably Moses presenting the Decalogue to the Israelites. As we'll see later in the depiction of Luther, one foot is pointing into the painting and the other is pointing outward to the viewer - us - as if to remind us that the Law was given not just to the Jews, but to all humankind. The Law, as an expression of God's perfection, shows us our imperfection, indeed, our total inability to live up to God's standard.





















The Snake in the Desert

Numbers 21.4-9 tells of the wandering Israelites who complained about their desert experience and were bitten by poisonous snakes. God instructed Moses to hang a bronze snake in the camp. Anyone who looked at it would be saved. This is a prefigure of Jesus, who will save all who look to His saving work on the cross.

The snake will be mentioned again, in the "Trio in the Triptych" section below.

Notice that the flow of blood from Jesus' side courses through the middle of the camp.















Shepherds

The shepherds receiving news of the birth of Jesus.

Here, Jesus' blood flows above the shepherds, but below the angel, reminding us, perhaps, that humans need salvation, but angels do not.















The Lamb

Jesus is the sacrificial Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world (John 1.29); the almost invisible banner at the top of the staff he carries bears this message in Latin . This Lamb is also a warrior, however (see Revelation 17.14, for example), meaning we can take the banner to be a battle flag.

The area where the Lamb stands isn't the only place in the painting with vegetation, but it appears to be the only spot where things are blooming. The Lamb of God brings new life.





Crucifixion

This is where I wish I knew more about art. I suspect Cranach had something in mind when he painted Jesus' head listing to the right, put bark on the wooden crossbeam, and showed only the very bottom of the placard that proclaimed Jesus "King of the Jews." The flowing white loincloth suggests something to me about Christ's divinity and the breadth of the salvation He was purchasing by His death.

John 19 tells us that a Roman soldier stabbed Jesus' side with a spear in order to make sure He was dead. Water and blood flowed out. The next section talks about where that blood goes.


Justification - The Trio in the Tryptich

This is my favorite part of my favorite painting.

John the Baptist points with his right hand to Christ on the Cross, and with his left hand to the Lamb. John and Jesus have remarkably similar faces, perhaps because they were cousins?

Martin Luther holds the Bible, which he had recently translated into German. On the page are three verses, the first of which he points to:

• 1 John 1.7 - If we walk in the light as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.


• Hebrews 4.16 - Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.


• John 3.14 - Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, [v. 15 - that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life].

Luther's left foot points outside the painting, perhaps signifying that his is a missionary message, not one to be limited to personal piety.

Between John and Luther stands the painter, himself, Lucas Cranach the Elder. This is an unusual touch, made all the more unusual - and remarkable - by the flow of blood that springs from Jesus' side and lands right on Cranach's head. Through this, Cranach declares his own devotion and need for atonement, and bluntly asserts that this atonement is not mediated through priest or church. The religious message about salvation is not just abstract theology, but practical necessity, and that's why Cranach needs a "straight shot" of the blood. As the only character who looks beyond the painting to the "audience," he seems to be inviting us into the painting to share with him in the benefit of Christ's blood.

So Cranach draws us in, John points us to the living Word, and Luther points us to the written Word (which itself is living and active).


























Resurrection

We see Christ again, this time trampling Death. His translucent spear (staff?) looks a lot like the translucent staff that the lamb is carrying, and it's held at about the same angle. The skeletal Death looks a lot like the figure that chased Adam from Paradise. I take the lion-like creature to be sin (Genesis 4.7) or Satan (1 Peter 5.8). Notice the snake near Jesus's right knee, just in case we miss the allusion. Notice also that Jesus's red cloak flows under the Lamb's banner which proclaimed him the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world - just in case we missed the connection.

Jesus has a fairly nonchalant look on His face as he gazes out of the picture, as if to show that this battle over sin, death, and Satan wasn't much of a contest. It was a lifesaver for us, but there was never any question as to the outcome. As Luther wrote in his most famous hymn:

The prince of darkness grim --
We tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure,
For lo! his doom is sure --
One little word shall fell him.

Conclusion

And so we see, in this one painting, a view of Creation, Fall, and Redemption. Cranach invites us to view this as participants in the timeless story, however, and not mere onlookers.

"God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Corinthians 5.21).


Bibliography

The following sources were helpful as I prepared this analysis:

• Abstract: From Vision to Testimony: Cranach's Weimar Altarpiece
• Circulatio as Tonal Morpheme in the Liturgical Music of J. S. Bach
• Cyberbrethren: A Lutheran Blog: "Christian Art and the Proclamation of Christ"
• Das Onlineprojekt zu Lucas Cranach
• Ford Madox Brown's Protestant medievalism: Chaucer and Wycliffe
• "Life of Lucas Cranach" PowerPoint Slide Show
• London Review of Books: Eamon Duffy, "Brush for Hire"
• Wikipedia: Lucas Cranach the Elder

Good. Friday.

I got back from my vacation 10 days ago, but a three-day business trip and other stuff going on have made the catching-up process a bit slow. I'm almost there.

Today is Good Friday. I have nothing brilliant to say about it, but there are plenty of others who do. I plan to "celebrate" tonight by attending a (verbatim) presentation of the Gospel of John.

Today is also J.S. Bach's birthday. If you didn't get a chance to read my December post about how Bach masterfully fuses Christmas and Good Friday in one grand choral movement, you can do so here.

Finally for today, a book recommendation.

I had always thought of Anne Rice as the odd lady who wrote vampire stories and lived in a haunted-looking house in New Orleans. I listened to one of her vampire books on tape several years ago, after which I had no desire to listen to (or read) anything more by her.

In 1998, Anne Rice returned to the Catholic Church, in which she was raised but left at age 18, and she subsequently dedicated her life to the Lord and to writing only for Him. Out of that have come, so far, two novels about Jesus, one in 2005 and the other this year. After I encounted a positive review or two of this year's release, I decided to pick up the "series." And I'm glad I did.

Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt is written as if Jesus, Himself, is telling the story of His childhood from age 7 to 8. I doubt that any human could ever write an "autobiography" of Jesus that gets everything right, but Rice has crafted a compelling treatment. She has done her research, and better than anything else I've read, she conveys a feel for what normal, daily life was like in those times. I found the book worshipful but not pretentious, and consistently emotionally moving. I can't tell you how many times I teared up or even had to stop reading so I could ponder the wonderful insights.

This book reminds me of C.S. Lewis's Narnia series. Both are "supposals," asking what things might have been like. Lewis puts it this way: "What might Christ become like if there really were a world like Narnia, and He chose to be incarnate and die and rise again in that world as He actually has done in ours?" Rice explains what she's doing as follows:

This book seeks to present a realistic fictional portrait of Our Lord in Time. It is rooted in the faith that the Creator of the Universe became human in the person of Jesus Christ and "dwelt among us." The magnificent mystery of the Incarnation is accepted and affirmed as fact. Scripture is the inspiration for the emotions and powers of the Child Jesus as they were envisioned here. History as well as the gospels is the source for this picture of a world in which Our Lord might have lived, as a little boy, in war and in peace, from day to day.

Another way in which Christ the Lord and Narnia are similar is that (for me at least) both present engaging stories that sneak up on you and whack you upside the head - emotionally, that is. Often in Narnia, for example, I'm overwhelmed by the insight into God's character as revealed in the Aslan character. In Out of Egypt, I was often struck by the immediacy of Scripture in the lives of the characters - the beauty or urgency of the Psalms, the humor of Jonah, the declarations of God's presence with His people. I saw with new eyes the challenges Joseph and Mary would have faced raising the child Jesus. And more.

A roommate I had a long time ago used to ask often, "When did Jesus know He was God?" In this book, Rice begins to posit a plausible answer.

Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt may not be great literature, as literature professors define it. Some of the sentences are clunky or needlessly cryptic. It's not Shakespeare or Dostoevsky. But for me, it is the best kind of literature: something that teaches me, that leads me to God, and makes me want to know Him better and worship Him more purely.

Foray for a Fortnight

I'm off to Budapest and Vienna for two weeks. I lived in Vienna and worked in Eastern Europe from '79-'82, but I haven't been back to these two cities since I left 25 years ago.

When you live somewhere, it seems there's never time to see the sights and take in all the cultural offerings. In preparing for this trip, I've been amazed at the incredible museums in Vienna that I didn't even know existed. And there are a half dozen high-quality concerts each evening to choose from. I think I'm going to enjoy being a tourist.

What am I looking forward most to? That'd probably have to be Bach's "St. Matthew Passion" on March 3 and Bach's "St. John Passion" on March 8, both in the fabled Musikverein. My seat's in the 3rd row for the first one, and the 1st row for the second. I can hardly wait.

But while I wait, I'll be enjoying some of Vienna's Kaffeehauskultur (that's "coffeehouse culture" for you who don't speak German). Coffee and cakes, with a heady dose of atmosphere. What could be better - except, of course, a Bach concert? And Heaven, I concede.

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Why Bach is a Genius

If you've read my 6 previous posts about Bach, you know that he's the greatest composer who ever lived. As I listen through my 155-CD set of his complete works, I'm repeatedly impressed and often amazed at his skill. I'm only about two-thirds of the way through the set, and even hearing something once (or multiple times) hardly means that I understand all the mastery that went into a piece.

Which leads to last night, and the Bach concert I was able to attend in Portland. The Bach Cantata Choir, a local group of mostly amateurs, presented Parts 4-6 of the Christmas Oratorio, and a few excerpts from Parts 1 and 2. There were 200-300 people in the audience . . . not bad at $20 a pop. We got our money's worth.

Bach wrote these 6 cantatas for the Advent and Christmas seasons. Each one lasts 20-30 minutes, covers part of the Christmas story, and includes a mix of solos, duets, trios, quartets, and choruses/chorales. It's all in German, of course, but the program we were given provided both the German text and an English translation.

OK, that's enough background. Now, why is Bach a genius? It was most clearly demonstrated at the very end, the final chorus of Part 6. The orchestral part is festive, joyous, celebratory. The text rejoices at the coming of Jesus and remarks on how He has pulverized death, devil, sin, and hell and brought man to the side of God. Delightful, but what makes it genius? The tune the choir is singing is "O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden," which we know as "O Sacred Head Now Wounded," a hymn that we sing around Good Friday. It talks about our sin and Jesus' suffering in our place (for example, "Mine, mine was the transgression, but thine the deadly pain").

So here is Bach, writing some of the most joyful orchestral music you can imagine, using a text of rejoicing, and yet introducing a tune that foreshadows the death of Christ. It is as if to say, "Yes, we're happy now because our Saviour is born, but don't forget that this baby is born to die . . . and don't forget that you're the one who will murder Him." That is genius.

You can hear a brief excerpt by going to this link, then clicking on Disc 2, Track 29.

So Merry Christmas. As we remember the birth of our Lord and Savior, may we also remember why this little baby took on human flesh . . . and how this innocent child, later to be an innocent man, will meet His death.

Bible, Bach, and . . . Well, I Guess That's All You Need

Did you hear the story on NPR's "All Things Considered" last night? It was a feature on the annual Bach festival in Bethlehem, PA. It's worth a listen to this 8-minute piece, which you can do here, or you can access it at this link, which provides additional info and sound samples.

I got tears in my eyes toward the end of the story. But then, I'm a sensitive guy, as all my friends know. Anyone who can listen to this and think that Bach is boring, stuffy, or irrelevant is either a cretin or dead. No, I take it back. Only cretins think that - the dead know how great Bach is, because he provides the music in Heaven (with Robert Shaw as assistant conductor, but that's another story).

OK, I exaggerate (slightly). Nevertheless, I hope you'll take the time to listen to the story. Maybe it'll increase your desire to hear more Bach. Take especial note of the lady who says of Bach's music, "It's there to help us when we have times in our life when we need comfort, or when you just want to burst for joy. It's all there for me, it really is." Maybe that's idolatry, but there are worse ways to sin.

Between Friday and Sunday

Tombs and Wombs

While at the concert last week of Bach’s St. John Passion, I had a new thought – new for me, that is. The text from the book of John says that Jesus was laid in “a new tomb, in which no one had ever been laid” (John 19.41). For some reason, it struck me that this is a parallel with his birth. He was born from a virgin womb, and He was buried in (and rose from) a virgin tomb. If there’s any theological significance to this, I haven’t yet figured out what it is. But it is a nice symmetry.


News You May Have Missed: Ahmadinejad, The Press, and Easter

When the 15 British sailors were released from Iran a couple days ago, the press uniformly reported that President Ahmadinejad said he was releasing his prisoners as an Easter gift. For example, the New York Times ran this AP version: "Irans's president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, said he had pardoned the sailors as an Easter holiday gift to the British people.”

That caught my eye, because I wouldn’t expect the president of Iran to care much about a Christian holiday.

What did he really say? MSNBC ran a longer version of his remarks, and they’re informative:

“Ahmadinejad said he had pardoned the sailors as a gift to the British people and to mark the birthday of Islam's Prophet Muhammed and Easter. On the occasion of the birthday of the great prophet (Muhammad) ... and for the occasion of the passing of Christ, I say the Islamic Republic government and the Iranian people -- with all powers and legal right to put the soldiers on trial -- forgave those 15."

“The occasion of the passing of Christ.” Would somebody please tell the press that the death of Jesus isn’t the definition of Easter?

(More about this story at GetReligion.org.)

Your Jesus is Dead.

Erzähle der Welt und dem Himmel die Not:
Dein Jesus ist tot!

Tell earth and heaven the sad news:
Your Jesus is dead!

-- From Bach's St. John Passion

Easter Meditation: More From the St. John Passion

Ich, ich und meine Sünden,
die sich wie Körnlein finden
des Sandes an dem Meer,
die haben dir erregt
das Elend, das dich schläget,
und das betrübte Marterheer.

I, I and my sins,
as numberless as the grains
of sand on the seashore,
have brought down on you
this misery that you face,
and this woeful host of torments.

There Was a Concert, Too

Had my car not been towed, the most memorable part of the weekend would have been the concert I mentioned earlier: the Atlanta Symphony and Chamber Chorus performing Bach's St. John Passion. What a nice way to spend a Saturday evening - to me, performances of Bach's longer choral works have the effect of being a worship service. The combination of Biblical texts, old hymns, and marvelous singing & playing can hardly be beat. It helped that I was in the first row, in the center, close enough to tell whether the soloists had trimmed their fingernails that morning. Being that close, the concert feels more immediate and personal to me, even if I can't see everyone further back on the stage.

So, this is Easter week and the St. John Passion is, of course, about the betrayal, trial, and death of Jesus. Here's one verse from a chorus in the work that I particularly like (the whole piece was performed in German, by the way; the English translation I give here is mostly the work of Robert Shaw, with a couple alterations by yours truly):

»Durch dein Gefängnis, Gottes Sohn,
ist uns die Freiheit kommen.
Dein Kerker ist der Gnadenthron,
die Freistatt aller Frommen.
Denn gingst du nicht die Knechtschaft ein,
müßt‘ unsre Knechtschaft ewig sein.«

It’s from your bondage, Lord, alone,
That now our freedom flowers.
Your dungeon is our mercy-throne
And liberty is ours!
Had you not chosen a slave to be,
We’d all be slaves eternally.

Happy Birthday, Herr Bach !

Mustn't let the day pass without recognizing that today is J.S. Bach's 322nd birthday. Although I consider my musical tastes to be eclectic, I freely profess that no composer has given me more joy than has Bach.

If you check my "Now Listening To" link off to the right, you'll see that I'm working my way through the 155-CD collection of the complete works of Bach. Although I've been a fan of his music ever since high school, it's amazing how much of what he wrote I've never heard before. On the radio, and even in concerts, you tend to get just the "Top 40." But listening through these discs, I realize how incredibly varied Bach's music really is. This guy was no Vivaldi, recycling the same themes over and over again until everything sounded more or less the same. Rather, he seems to have employed every musical device at the disposal of a Baroque musician - instrumentation, orchestration, styles, etc.

Listening through these 155 CDs reminds me of reading the Bible for the first time. Surprises and pleasures around every turn - and yes, every now and then a boring part or two. But overall, Wow. And I just can't get through these fast enough.

(P.S. How could you not love a guy who wrote a 30-minute piece about coffee?)