Chapter Fourteen

The Leipzig Audiences of J. S. Bach’s Matthew Passion to 1750

Tanya Kevorkian

Musicologists and theologians have gained much insight into the compositional process, structural and other qualities, and performances of J. S. Bach’s Matthew Passion (BWV 244).1 While they have also reflected on the Passion’s eighteenth-century audiences, there has been no thorough consideration of the topic. In reconstructing these first audiences, this chapter briefly discusses liturgical context. It then explores the makeup of the audiences, the listeners’ horizon of expectations, and their behavior during the service. Finally, it examines the Passion itself, especially the chorales, for clues as to how congregants related to it.

The performance context of Good Friday Vespers, which has been reconstructed by Günther Stiller, Robin A. Leaver, and others, is essential to understanding the Passion’s audiences and their reception of the work.2 There were important structural similarities between the main Sunday and feast day morning services (that is, Hauptgottesdienst, the other liturgy for which Bach regularly directed concerted music) and Vespers services.3 While differences outweighed these similarities, the latter are important for understanding congregants’ habits and expectations. In particular, both types of services were divided into three main blocks. The first included hymn singing and the performance of the cantata or part 1 of the Passion. Next, the sermon was about one hour long at both Hauptgottesdienst and Good Friday Vespers. Third came a celebration of the Eucharist at Hauptgottesdienst or part 2 of the Passion in Good Friday Vespers.

Beyond the different times of day (7:00 a.m. for Hauptgottesdienst, 1:45 p.m. for Vespers), there were many other differences between the services. Roughly forty minutes of hymns, collects, and Bible readings preceded the Sunday morning cantata, which was often around twenty minutes in length. By contrast, Good Friday Vespers was liturgically much simpler, though figural music played a larger role. Just one hymn preceded part 1 of a figural Passion, and the Passion included the actual scriptural content of the service (though it still framed an hour-long sermon).4 The Good Friday Vespers liturgy in Leipzig during Bach’s time was as follows:

Hymn: Da Jesus an dem Kreuze stund

Passion (part 1)

Sermon (on a harmony of the Passion story by Johann Bugenhagen)

Passion (part 2)

Motet: Ecce, quomodo moritur Justus (by Jacob Handl)

Prayer of the day

Bible verse: Isaiah 53:5.

Hymn: Nun danket alle Gott5

The post-sermon portion of Hauptgottesdienst included hymns, prayers, announcements, the benediction, and sometimes part 2 of the cantata, but its primary focus was on celebration of the Eucharist. It could run for one to one and a half hours, depending on the number of communicants and the length of the prayers. The post-sermon portion of Good Friday Vespers could actually be longer than this, if Bach’s own Passions are any indication: most recent performances of the second part of the Matthew Passion take a bit over ninety minutes; those of the John Passion a bit over seventy minutes. After the Passion concluded, a Latin motet was sung by the choir, followed by a verse and collect, the benediction, and a final congregational hymn.

Congregations and Passions

Many of those present at regular Sunday Vespers services were the servants and children of pew holders, although some pew holders themselves also attended. Since Good Friday was an important holiday, though, regular pew holders likely claimed their pews. Almost all of them belonged to the wealthier strata of Leipzig society: burghers (that is, people who owned property in the city) and their family members.6 Members of the elites, who represented less than 10 percent of the city’s population, held more than 40 percent of the pews. Members of intermediate groups, including shopkeepers, scribes, and notaries, made up no more than 5 percent of the population, but held about 15 percent of the pews. Artisans held about 40 percent of the pews, which was roughly in proportion to their percentage of the population. Although one person’s name was on a pew certificate, family and household members of the same sex could also use the pew.

There were separate blocks of pews for men and women. Women slightly outnumbered men in each of the main churches, and they occupied most of the ground floor. Men sat around the rear and edges of the ground floor and in the balconies. Members of the high elites sat in enclosed groups of pews known as Capellen, which were built in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries and ranged around the perimeter of the churches, two and three on top of each other. The Capellen were spatially and socially equivalent to opera boxes. Given the popularity of Good Friday Vespers, it is likely that even more than the five hundred people who usually stood toward the rear and in the aisles of the church were present. This made for a total audience of over three thousand persons in each of the main churches.

Virtually everyone in the audience was literate. Historians long underestimated the literacy rates for early modern Europeans, but recent studies have shown that most urbanites in northern and central Europe could read by the early eighteenth century. This was especially true for Saxon towns, where there was almost universal literacy among men and women alike.7 Many elite men and some notaries and scribes, who together made up about a quarter of the audience, had some university education; a good number had a doctorate. Ownership and use of hymnals was a given.

But were these people even present for the entire service? In the case of Hauptgottesdienst in St. Thomas and St. Nicholas, people’s goal was to arrive by the beginning of the sermon, which followed the performance of the cantata.8 Many people then left after the sermon, when the second part of a two-part cantata was performed and the Eucharist was celebrated.

While there are numerous references to congregant behavior during the Sunday morning service, there are few that specifically address ordinary Vespers or that on Good Friday. Therefore, a variety of indirect evidence must be consulted in order to build a probable picture of audience behavior. Good Friday was among the highest of all church holidays. As we will see, several contemporaries indicated that people arrived in a more timely fashion than for other services and were more attentive than usual. Since it was an official holiday, people were actually not allowed to work (as was the case for Sundays, as well), and were therefore free to attend.

Contemporaries commented extensively on the introduction of Passion performances in the major north and central German trading centers, especially Frankfurt, Hamburg, and Leipzig. These were unusual performances for people of the time in several ways, and they made a strong impression. Good Friday, of course, came at the end of Lent, a time when—in many cities—organs were shuttered and cantatas not performed; most secular music was forbidden, as well. Audiences were thus at the end of a long musical dry spell. The Passions were much longer than cantatas, and often featured an instrumental ensemble larger than that of a typical cantata. Contemporaries offered vivid descriptions. In his 1740 autobiography, Telemann described the context of the first performance of his Brockes Passion in Frankfurt in more detail than all but two other performances of his works.9 The Pietist Christian Gerber claimed in an often-quoted passage in his Historie der Kirchen-Ceremonien in Sachsen that when “in a prominent city, this [recently introduced style of] Passion music was performed for the first time with twelve violins, many oboes, bassoons and other instruments, many people were astounded, and did not know what to make of it.” In particular, “in one noble Capelle there were many high officials and noblewomen, who sang the first Passion hymn with great devotion from their books,” only to be dismayed by an onslaught of “theatrical music” by large numbers of instruments immediately afterward.

Gerber continued, “These people all fell into the greatest astonishment, looked at each other and said, ‘What will become of this?’ An old noble widow said, ‘May God protect you children! It is as if one were in an opera or comedy.’ All were heartily displeased by it, and rightfully complained.”10 Gerber’s strong Pietist bias should be taken into account here. While the congregants in the Capelle, whom he knew, were dismayed by the operatic music, he himself stated in this passage that other people “take pleasure” (“einen Wohlgefallen haben”) in this type of Passion music. Most interesting here, in any event, is that Gerber documented the deep impression that the occasion made, as well as the promptness and attentiveness of the congregants in their Capelle.

Another reference is by Gottfried Ephraim Scheibel, who had studied theology in Leipzig and heard Telemann’s compositions at the Leipzig Opera. In 1721—incidentally, the year Bach’s predecessor Johann Kuhnau introduced Passion performances into Leipzig’s main churches—Scheibel wrote of a modern, figural Passion performance for a town he does not identify. Opposite in perspective from Gerber regarding the value of the music, Scheibel wrote:

The people surely did not arrive so promptly or in such large numbers because of the pastor, but rather because of the music. . . . I was amazed at how attentively people listened and how devoutly they sang along. The moving music contributed the most to this. Although the service lasted over four hours, everyone stayed until it was finished.11

Scheibel’s text predates Bach’s Leipzig Passion performances by a few years. It does not necessarily discuss the performance of an oratorio Passion, since it could be describing another type of Passion performance. It also carries the bias of an author whose tract was devoted to supporting church music. But it does indicate that congregants were capable of sitting through a very long service and listening to the music carefully.

Other evidence also points to the popularity of figural Passion performances. In Leipzig, these were expanded from the New Church to the main churches, St. Thomas in 1721 and St. Nicholas in 1724, because of the large audiences at the New Church. None other than city councilor and consistory assessor Gottfried Lange, soon to become Bach’s most important supporter on the council, penned the request to expand, which was subsequently approved by the Upper Consistory in Dresden. Lange wrote, “The cantor of St. Thomas here, Johann Kuhnau, would like to direct a figural performance of the Passion history in St. Thomas this coming Good Friday, because this has been done for several years in the New Church, which however cannot handle the large numbers of people and listeners.”12 The New Church seated roughly 1,600 people by the 1720s, including places in the Capellen, and had further standing room.

Passion performances were well attended in other towns, as well. In a striking combination of music, venue, and purpose, Frankfurt councilors and Hamburg senators organized performances of these tales of sin and suffering—often in small churches linked to care of the poor—to raise money for the poor. The first performance of Telemann’s Brockes Passion in Frankfurt in 1716 was actually a benefit for the Frankfurt combined poorhouse, orphanage, and workhouse. Councilors required congregants to carry the textbook for the Passion into the church; proceeds from textbook sales went to the house.13 No similar performances are known for Leipzig. Also, in contrast to Leipzig, the performances in Frankfurt were not in a liturgical context.

The Congregations for Bach’s Matthew Passion

Bach arrived in Leipzig in 1723 and performed his first Passion—version 1 of the John Passion—in 1724. He was responsible for the performance of a Passion each year, up until his death in 1750. Leipzig congregants’ reception of Bach’s Matthew Passion likely shifted over the years, between Bach’s first performance of it in 1727 and the last in the 1740s.14 In 1727, Leipzig inhabitants had known Bach for four years. Bach was nearing the end of his initial burst of activity in the city, when he composed the bulk of his Leipzig church pieces. Congregants were thus familiar with his compositional style. Many congregants would also have heard the John Passion when it was performed in 1724 and 1725.

In the 1720s, various features of Bach’s Passions would have resonated with some audience members who had memories of the Leipzig Opera, which, from 1693 to 1720, staged performances three times a year during the trade fairs. Some elite pew holders would have been in attendance at the Opera, making for an overlap in the audiences. The story of the Passion was highly dramatic by nature, and its musical setting by high Baroque composers, including Bach, was operatic in a number of ways. Beyond the use of recitative and aria, which were drawn from opera, Bach employed specific dramatic devices, as well. For example, Daniel R. Melamed has noted that the bass aria from the Matthew Passion, no. 42, “Gebt mir meinen Jesum wieder” (Give me back my Jesus), was typical of “a rage aria of a kind often given to bass singers in operas whose characters were particularly upset.”15 Gerber’s lady in the Capelle specifically compared the modern Passion to opera, as Pietists often compared high-Baroque church music in general to opera.

There were further connections among Bach, Passions, and operatic music. Bach was associated with the “New Church” Collegium Musicum, which had long-standing connections to the Leipzig Opera and to modern Passion performances. In 1729, the likely year of the second performance of the Matthew Passion, Bach became the leader of this group, whose makeup overlapped considerably with that of the ensemble that performed in the New Church. Bach had also known and worked with New Church musicians previously. The first figural Passion in Leipzig had been performed in the New Church in 1717. Further, New Church instrumentalists had been prominent in the Opera’s ensemble. The leaders at the New Church, beginning with its first music director, Telemann (1704–1705), actually doubled as the Opera’s music directors until the Opera closed in 1720.16

By 1727, some congregants, especially wealthy pacesetters, could have heard figural Passions for ten years. This is because many people, especially members of the elites, held pews in more than one church, often in all three where the Passions were performed: the New Church, St. Thomas, and St. Nicholas. They could thus have attended the first figural Passion performances in the New Church from 1717 to 1720, and then chosen between performances in the New Church and one of the main churches from 1721 onward. That fact, combined with people’s general familiarity with the Gospel narrative (see below), might have meant they expected something new.

Congregants’ attitude can tentatively be compared to that of listeners of the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s hearing a jazz standard such as George Gershwin’s “Summertime” being covered by a new arranger, vocalist, instrumentalist, or band. There were obvious differences, such as the fact that Bach composed all of the music of the Passion except the chorale melodies. A basic similarity, however, is that in both cases the composer or arranger, performers, and audiences shared a knowledge of the text and the musical language underlying the composition and had previously heard the text performed in different musical settings. The challenge for musicians was to address listeners’ expectations within the conventions of the genre, while also placing their own stamp on the material.

By the time of the Matthew Passion performances of 1736 and the 1740s, the reception context of the Passion had shifted. Connections to the Opera were more distant, and rather than being newly instituted, performances had been running for years. People seem to have grown accustomed to the style, and some, notably Bach’s former student, Johann Adolph Scheibe, even began to criticize Bach’s style as out-of-date.17 The lively debate of the 1720s and earlier 1730s between Pietist critics of modern church music such as Gerber and Orthodox defenders such as Scheibel had also subsided by the later 1730s. While Pietists were just a small minority of the congregation, and it is possible that many avoided Passion performances, they had been vocal. In addition to criticizing operatic style, they had advocated for accessibility and for active congregant participation in the service. Supposedly hard-to-understand texts of arias and choruses, and the replacement of congregational singing of multi-verse hymns with figural music, were new phenomena in the 1720s, but not by the 1740s.18

Hearing the Matthew Passion

Within this context, one might wonder how well people were able to follow the related textual and musical meanings of a Passion. The Passion story itself in its various Gospel versions was intimately familiar to everyone in the audience. The story of Jesus’s arrival in Jerusalem, his anointing by the woman in Bethany, the Last Supper, his betrayal by Judas and abandonment by Peter and the other disciples, his trial by Pilate, his treatment by the crowd, and his crucifixion were central to Lutheran and other Christian theologies. During main services on Palm Sunday, five days before Good Friday Vespers performances, clerics and students chanted sixteenth-century settings of the Passion narratives from the Gospel of John in St. Nicholas and the Gospel of Matthew in St. Thomas. While most of these Passions were chanted in unison, the characters of Christ, Peter, the maid, etc., were assigned to specific participants, who had some solo passages. In some sections, the text was arranged for four parts.19 Interestingly, in 1766 this setting was replaced because it was “too theatrical.”20

The libretto itself was also accessible. Text booklets, which were purchased by many listeners before the performance, helped people follow the libretto. No original text booklets of the Matthew Passion performances survive, but the Passion’s librettist, Christian Friedrich Henrici (Picander), published a version of the libretto in 1729.21 It is likely that this was identical or very close to the original printing. As Don O. Franklin has shown, Picander and Bach organized the libretto into six “acts” following the clear structure of theologian Johannes Olearius.22 Furthermore, Picander interspersed fourteen shorthand phrases in his 1729 version of the libretto to note places in the Passion narrative, such as: “After the woman had anointed Jesus,” “As Peter cried,” and “After the words of Pilate: What evil has he done?” This suggests that people were able to understand what point the narrative was at without much context.

Interpretations of the Passion narrative were not static, and people likely heard the theology of the Passion differently depending on their age, the year of performance, and individual church background. Elke Axmacher has shown that between the 1670s and the early eighteenth century, theologians’ emphasis shifted from a vengeful God to Jesus’s agency and the individual’s close relationship with Jesus.23 She also argues persuasively that the libretto was a complex amalgam of traditional structure and more modern, much simpler theological thinking. In addition, of course, Matthew’s account itself differs in important ways from the accounts of the other evangelists.

And what of the musical setting? Many nuances and structural details would not have been obvious to ordinary listeners. These include the progression of key signatures in the five chorales on the melody “O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden,”24 and the symmetrical structure of movements 36b to 58d, which frame the key soprano aria no. 49, “Aus Liebe will mein Heiland sterben.”25 However, countless features of Bach’s setting were accessible to listeners. The audience would have had no trouble understanding some striking word-painting, such as the evocation of the rooster’s crow in the Evangelist/Peter recitative no. 38c, when Peter mournfully recalls Christ’s prophecy that Peter will deny him three times before the cock’s crow (m. 29). Listeners would also have responded to the evocation of thunder on the simultaneously sung words “Wolken” and “Donner” (“clouds” and “thunder”) in the double chorus no. 26b, “Sind Blitze, sind Donner” (m. 101).

Chorale movements further helped congregants connect to the Passion. In addition to the chorale “O Lamm Gottes unschuldig” that appears in the opening double chorus, there are fourteen chorale settings in the Matthew Passion, based on seven different chorales. These fourteen settings are distributed evenly between the two parts of the work, seven in each. As he generally did in his cantatas, Bach—on the basis of librettist’s indication—set well-known hymns in the Passion. Two date from the sixteenth century, and the other five from the time between 1630 and 1658.26 Congregants would likely have known many of these older hymn texts and tunes by heart, three of which are Passion hymns. These are the first three to appear, and they are each set more than once, each time to a different verse. “Herzliebster Jesus, was hast Du verbrochen?” is set three times (mvts. 3, 19, and 46), Paul Gerhardt’s “O Welt, sieh hier dein Leben” twice (mvts. 10 and 37), and Gerhardt’s “O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden” is set five times (mvts. 15, 17, 44, 54, and 62).27

In addition, four non-Passion hymns are set once each. These chorales underline the general applicability of the Passion story throughout the year. Congregants were familiar with these chorales from various thematic sections of their hymnals. For example, “Werde munter mein Gemüte” appears in the “Evening hymns” section of several hymnals that were in common usage in Leipzig during Bach’s time (mvt. 40).28 Most of the stanzas of this hymn focus on a person preparing for night and sleep. The one included in the Matthew Passion focuses on the power of Jesus’s death to redeem individuals who have sinned but repented, by implication at the end of the day. This chorale follows an alto aria requesting Christ’s mercy.

While some hymns occurred in the same section of most hymnals, the names of sections varied from one hymnal to the next, and so did the placement of hymns in a particular section. The thematic context of a hymn was thus not static. The hymn from which mvt. 25 is drawn, “Was mein Gott will,” appears in different sections in four hymnals. The first stanza of the hymn, which is used in the Passion, is almost always associated with Jesus’s prayer in Gethsemane in eighteenth-century Passion settings.29 In the 1730 edition of the Neu eingerichtetes geistreiches Gesang-Buch, it appears in the section “On the relinquishing of the heart to God, and Christian contentment (Gelassenheit).” In George Christian Schemelli’s 1736 hymnal, to which Bach contributed, it is under “On patience and contentment”; in Vopelius’s 1682 hymnal, it is under “On death and dying,” and in the Dresden hymnal it is under “On Christian life and conduct.” Another hymn, “In dich hab ich gehoffet, Herr,” from which mvt. 32 is drawn, is included in the section “In common need” in the Neu eingerichtes geistreiches Gesang-Buch; under “On temporal affliction and suffering” in Schemelli’s hymnal; under “Psalm hymns” in Vopelius’s hymnal (the text is based on Psalm 31); and under “In affliction and attack” in the Dresden hymnal. The text of the hymn addresses all of these themes.

The chorales not only helped congregants connect to the Passion, but also played other roles. One is structural: as Don O. Franklin has noted, a chorale or chorus concludes each of the six “acts” of the Passion libretto that Bach and his librettist Picander compiled.30 Another is to introduce the action of the Passion narrative into the listener’s frame of reference. Most of the chorales reflect on the Gospel events of the previous movements, often bringing a train of thought to culmination. Specifically, Axmacher shows that the chorales function as an exegesis on preceding scriptural narrative, much as exegetical sections of sermons did.31 Most chorales also emphasize listeners’ spiritual obligations. For example, mvt. 10, “Ich bins, ich sollte büssen,” immediately follows the brief chorus no. 9e, “Herr, bin ichs?,” in which the disciples ask Jesus who among them will betray him. This linking of the Gospel account of Jesus’s suffering to the individual believer’s spiritual journey to Christ might seem confusing to the modern listener, but it made sense to eighteenth-century congregants. Thus, preachers always drew a connection between Bible readings for a particular day and their parishioners. Hymns drew such a connection, as well.

The transition from the chorus mvt. 9e to the chorale mvt. 10 is one example of the textual seamlessness and word repetition noted by various scholars that appears several times in the Passion, connecting one movement to another.32 This seamlessness underlines the applicability of the narrative and its messages to the individual. At the same time, the chorales, either as cantional settings or more elaborate arrangements, always leap out in strong contrast to the movements that precede them. This contrast serves to emphasize the “dramatic tension” between God and man, good and evil, life and death that many scholars have identified for other musical aspects of the Passion.33

There are further subtleties. In part 1, recitatives precede six of the chorales; a chorus precedes mvt. 10, as noted. In part 2, by contrast, choruses and arias precede five of the chorales, while recitatives precede the other two. This probably results from the difference in theological role which Petzoldt has noted for the chorales: in part 1, they respond to Christ’s predictions or prophecies, while in part 2, they follow denials and ridicule “and have the function of bringing the lost commonality with Jesus back into view.”34 This placement in turn, Petzoldt argues, emphasizes the theological message of part 1 that Jesus is the agent of God’s word, and of part 2 that people capable of creating a new community are the agents. It is hard to tell whether this shift from part 1 to part 2 would have been apparent to ordinary congregants.

This brings us to one more question: did congregants sing the chorales of the Passion? While it is possible that they sang perhaps the chorales of regular Sunday and feast day cantatas,35 it is unlikely they sang those of the Matthew Passion. First, while the vast majority of cantata chorales appear in a predictable place at the very end of the cantata, or at the end of part 1 of a two-part cantata, they are scattered throughout parts one and two of the Passion. It is of interest in this connection to note Bach’s replacement of the simple harmonization of the chorale no. 29a, “Jesum lass ich nicht von mir,” at the end of part 1 in the 1727 version with the chorus no. 29, “O Mensch, bewein dein Sünde gross.” Scholars have generally attributed this change to Bach’s goal of composing a more elaborate “pillar” to conclude part 1, but it is possible that at least one consideration was to avoid congregational singing.

Second, almost all of J. S. Bach’s regular Sunday and feast day cantata chorales are simple four-part harmonizations. While eleven of the fourteen chorales in the Passion are set to straightforward four-part harmony, three are set more elaborately. Each of these three is a concerted or dialogue movement in which Bach assigns the chorale to one or both choirs. Mvt. 19 intersperses individual lines of the verse within a recitative, mvt. 29 is a chorus, and mvt. 62, the final chorale and the fifth and final appearance of the “O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden” melody, is harmonically striking. Third, the version of the libretto printed by Picander in 1729 includes only the poet’s verse, and neither chorales nor the biblical text. In contrast, most surviving cantata textbooks include at least the incipit of chorales.36

More than on regular Sunday mornings, congregants seem to have arrived on time for Good Friday Vespers, sat attentively, and debated the value of the figural setting of Bach’s Passions. Especially in the 1720s, Passion performances were institutionally new and musically controversial. Bach’s audiences were familiar with the different types of movements in the Matthew Passion from various contexts. The arias and recitatives resonated for them with opera and, more broadly, the latest fashions in music. By contrast, the chorales were based on a highly traditional musical genre, and congregants knew them by heart. Listeners were also familiar with the style of the Passion from hearing cantatas and earlier figural Passion performances. They could follow many of the musical and theological features of the setting, complex as it was, because these were made accessible to them by librettist and composer alike.

Notes

1. Thanks to Don O. Franklin and Daniel R. Melamed for their many helpful comments on this chapter.

2. Günther Stiller, Johann Sebastian Bach and Liturgical Life in Leipzig (St. Louis: Concordia, 1984); Robin A. Leaver, “The Mature Vocal Works and Their Theological and Liturgical Context,” in The Cambridge Companion to Bach, ed. John Butt (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 86–122. On Vespers and the Passions, see esp. 99–108.

3. Good Friday Vespers was just one of about 100 Vespers services each year in Leipzig. While Good Friday Vespers had its own distinctive liturgy, centered around the figural Passion, the other Vespers services of the year shared similar liturgical structure and content with each other. See Mark A. Peters, “J. S. Bach’s Meine Seel’ erhebt den Herren (BWV 10) as Chorale Cantata and Magnificat Paraphrase,” Bach 43/1 (2012): 31–36.

4. See Leaver, “The Mature Vocal Works,” 99.

5. Daniel R. Melamed, Hearing Bach’s Passions, updated edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 135.

6. See Tanya Kevorkian, Baroque Piety: Religion, Society, and Music in Leipzig, 1650–1750 (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 53–74, esp. 59.

7. Kevorkian, Baroque Piety, esp. 172–77.

8. See Kevorkian, Baroque Piety, 1–34.

9. Carsten Lange, “Zur Aufführung von Telemanns Brockes-Passionsoratorium in Frankfurt am Main,” in Telemann in Frankfurt. Bericht über das Symposium Frankfurt am Main, 26./27. April 1996, ed. Peter Cahn, 142–62 (New York: Schott, 2000), 146ff.

10. “Als in einer vornehmen Stadt diese Passions-Music mit 12. violinen, vielen Hautbois, Fagots und andern Instrumenten mehr, zum ersten mal gemacht ward, erstaunten viele Leute darüber, und wussten nicht was sie daraus machen sollten. Auf einer Adelichen Kirch-Stube waren viele hohe Ministri und Adeliche Damen beysmammen, die das 1. Passions-Lied aus ihren Büchern mit grosser Devotion sungen: Als nun diese theatralische Music angieng, so geriethen alle diese Personen in die grösste Verwunderung, sahen einander an und sagten: Was soll daraus werden? Eine alte adeliche Wittwe sagte: Behüte Gott ihr Kinder! Ist es doch, als ob man in einer Oper oder Comödie wäre: Alle aber hatten ein herzliches Missfallen daran, und führeten gerechte Klagen darüber.” Christian Gerber, Historie der Kirchen-Ceremonien in Sachsen (Dresden & Jena: Saueressig, 1732), 283–84. All translations are by the author unless otherwise noted.

11. Gottfried Ephraim Scheibel, Zufällige Gedancken von der Kirchen-Music, Wie Sie heutiges Tages beschaffen ist (Frankfurt & Leipzig: self-published, 1721), 30.

12. “Wasmassen der Cantor zu St. Thomas alhier, Joh. Kuhnau, auf künftigen Charfreytag die Passions-Historie gerne figuraliter in der Thomas Kirche alhier musiciren möchte, weil doch solches etliche Jahre her in der Neu-Kirche geschehen, diese Kirche aber die grosse Frequentz derer Leute und Zuhörer nicht gestatte.” Qtd. in Arnold Schering, Musikgeschichte Leipzigs, Vol. II, 1650–1723 (Leipzig: Kisner & Siegel, 1926), 24. Ulrich Siegele established Lange’s support of modern music through his patronage of Bach. See “Bach and the Domestic Politics of Electoral Saxony,” in Butt, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Bach, 17–34; and “Bachs Stellung in der Leipziger Kulturpolitik seiner Zeit,” Bach Jahrbuch 69 (1983): 7–50; 70 (1984): 7–43; and 72 (1986): 33–67.

13. Lange, “Zur Aufführung von Telemanns Brockes-Passionsoratorium,” 147.

14. See Melamed, Hearing Bach’s Passions, 136, for a list of Bach’s known passion performances in Leipzig.

15. Melamed, Hearing Bach’s Passions, 13–14. The movement numbers are from Alfred Dürr, ed., St. Matthew Passion; J. S. Bach, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, Series 2, Vol. 5 (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1972).

16. See Andreas Glöckner, Die Musikpflege an der Leipziger Neukirche zur Zeit Johann Sebastian Bachs, Beiträge zur Bachforschung 8 (Leipzig: Nationale Forschungs- und Gedenkstätten Johann Sebastian Bach, 1990), 18ff.

17. Hans T. David, Arthur Mendel, and Christoph Wolff, eds., The New Bach Reader: A Life of Johann Sebastian Bach in Letters and Documents, rev. ed. (New York: W. W. Norton, 1998), 338.

18. See Kevorkian, Baroque Piety, esp. 40 and 136–42.

19. Gottfried Vopelius, Neu Leipziger Gesangbuch, von den schönsten und besten Liedern verfasset . . . mit 4.5. bis 6. Stimmen (Leipzig: Klinger, 1682), 179–227; Stiller, Liturgical Life in Leipzig, 60.

20. Stiller, Liturgical Life in Leipzig, 157–58.

21. Facsimile published in Werner Neumann, ed., Sämtliche von Johann Sebastian Bach vertonte Texte (Leipzig: VEB Deutscher Verlag für Musik, 1974), 321–24.

22. Don O. Franklin, “The Role of the ‘Actus Structure’ in the Libretto of J. S. Bach’s Matthew Passion,” in Music and Theology: Essays in Honor of Robin A. Leaver, ed. Daniel Zager (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow, 2007), 121–39.

23. Elke Axmacher, “Aus Liebe will mein Heyland sterbe”: Untersuchungen zum Wandel des Passionsverständnisses im frühen 18. Jahrhundert (Neuhausen/Stuttgart: Hänssler, 1984), esp. 166–203.

24. Christoph Wolff, Johann Sebastian Bach: The Learned Musician (New York: W. W. Norton, 2000), 301.

25. Leaver, “The Mature Vocal Works,” 108.

26. Hans-Joachim Schulze and Christoph Wolff, eds., Bach Compendium, vol. 3, Vocal Works, Part III (Leipzig: C. F. Peters, 1988), 1025.

27. The text of mvt. 44 comes from a verse of a non-Passion hymn by Gerhardt with the same metric structure, “Befiehl du Deine Wege.”

28. Neu eingerichtetes geistreiches Gesang-Buch, worinnen 860. auserlesene alte und neue erbauliche Kern-Lieder . . . enthalten (Leipzig: Hospital St. Georgen & Zucht- und Waysenhaus, 1730); Georg Christian Schemelli, ed., Musicalisches Gesang-Buch (Leipzig: Breitkopf, 1736); Vopelius, Neu Leipziger Gesangbuch (1682); Priviligirtes Ordentliches und Vermehrtes Dresdenische Gesang-Buch (Dresden & Leipzig: Hekel, 1734).

29. Thank you to Don O. Franklin for this reference.

30. Franklin, “The Role of the ‘Actus Structure,’” 125–29.

31. Axmacher, “Aus Liebe will mein Heyland sterben,” esp. 197–203.

32. See Martin Petzoldt, “Die theologische Bedeutung der Choräle in Bachs Matthäus-Passion,” Musik und Kirche, 53 (1983): 59, note 38; and Ulrich Leisinger, “Forms and Functions of the Choral Movements in J. S. Bach’s St. Matthew Passion,” in Bach Studies 2, ed. Daniel R. Melamed, 70–84 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 74, note 16.

33. Wolff, Johann Sebastian Bach, 302.

34. Petzoldt, “Die theologische Bedeutung,” 60.

35. See Kevorkian, Baroque Piety, 43–46.

36. See Neumann, ed., Sämtliche von Johann Sebastian Bach vertonte Texte.

Bibliography

Axmacher, Elke. “Aus Liebe will mein Heyland sterbe”: Untersuchungen zum Wandel des Passionsverständnisses im frühen 18. Jahrhundert. Neuhausen/Stuttgart: Hänssler, 1984.

David, Hans T., Arthur Mendel, and Christoph Wolff, eds. The New Bach Reader: A Life of Johann Sebastian Bach in Letters and Documents. Revised edition. New York: W. W. Norton, 1998.

Franklin, Don O. “The Role of the ‘Actus Structure’ in the Libretto of J. S. Bach’s Matthew Passion.” In Music and Theology: Essays in Honor of Robin A. Leaver. Edited by Daniel Zager, 121–39. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow, 2007.

Gerber, Christian. Historie der Kirchen-Ceremonien in Sachsen. Dresden & Jena: Saueressig, 1732.

Glöckner, Andreas. Die Musikpflege an der Leipziger Neukirche zur Zeit Johann Sebastian Bachs. Beiträge zur Bachforschung 8. Leipzig: Nationale Forschungs- und Gedenkstätten Johann Sebastian Bach, 1990.

Kevorkian, Tanya. Baroque Piety: Religion, Society, and Music in Leipzig, 1650–1750. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007.

Lange, Carsten. “Zur Aufführung von Telemanns Brockes-Passionsoratorium in Frankfurt am Main.” In Telemann in Frankfurt. Bericht über das Symposium Frankfurt am Main, 26./27. April 1996. Edited by Peter Cahn, 142–62. New York: Schott, 2000.

Leaver, Robin A. “The Mature Vocal Works and Their Theological and Liturgical Context.” In The Cambridge Companion to Bach. Edited by John Butt, 86–122. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Leisinger, Ulrich. “Forms and Functions of the Choral Movements in J. S. Bach’s St. Matthew Passion.” In Bach Studies 2. Edited by Daniel R. Melamed, 70–84. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995.

Melamed, Daniel R. Hearing Bach’s Passions. Updated edition. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016.

Neu eingerichtetes geistreiches Gesang-Buch, worinnen 860. auserlesene alte und neue erbauliche Kern-Lieder . . . enthalten. Leipzig: Hospital St. Georgen & Zucht- und Waysenhaus, 1730.

Neumann, Werner, ed. Sämtliche von Johann Sebastian Bach vertonte Texte. Leipzig: VEB Deutscher Verlag für Musik, 1974.

Peters, Mark A. “J. S. Bach’s Meine Seel’ erhebt den Herren (BWV 10) as Chorale Cantata and Magnificat Paraphrase.” Bach 43/1 (2012): 29–64.

Petzoldt, Martin. “Die theologische Bedeutung der Choräle in Bachs Matthäus-Passion.” Musik und Kirche, 53 (1983): 53–63.

Priviligirtes Ordentliches und Vermehrtes Dresdenische Gesang-Buch. Dresden & Leipzig: Hekel, 1734.

Scheibel, Gottfried Ephraim. Zufällige Gedancken von der Kirchen-Music, Wie Sie heutiges Tages beschaffen ist. Frankfurt & Leipzig: self-published, 1721.

Schemelli, Georg Christian, ed. Musicalisches Gesang-Buch. Leipzig: Breitkopf, 1736.

Schering, Arnold. Musikgeschichte Leipzigs, Vol. II, 1650–1723. Leipzig: Kisner & Siegel, 1926.

Schulze, Hans-Joachim, and Christoph Wolff, eds. Bach Compendium, vol. 3. Vocal Works, Part III. Leipzig: C. F. Peters, 1988.

Siegele, Ulrich. “Bachs Stellung in der Leipziger Kulturpolitik seiner Zeit.” Bach Jahrbuch 69 (1983): 7–50; 70 (1984): 7–43; and 72 (1986): 33–67.

———. “Bach and the Domestic Politics of Electoral Saxony.” In The Cambridge Companion to Bach. Edited by John Butt, 17–34. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Stiller, Günther. Johann Sebastian Bach and Liturgical Life in Leipzig. St. Louis: Concordia, 1984.

Vopelius, Gottfried. Neu Leipziger Gesangbuch, von den schönsten und besten Liedern verfasset . . . mit 4.5. bis 6. Stimmen. Leipzig: Klinger, 1682.

Wolff, Christoph. Johann Sebastian Bach: The Learned Musician. New York: W. W. Norton, 2000.