Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Program Notes for Bach's Mass in B Minor




I prepared these program notes for a performance of Bach's Mass in B Minor by the Combined Choruses and Orchestra of Furman University under the direction of Professor Bingham Vick, April 23, 2010. My sincere thanks to Dr. Vick for entrusting me with this privilege.

Program Notes for Bach's Mass in B Minor 

Bach's massive achievement in sacred music culminates in his Mass in B Minor, completed in 1749, the year before his death. A correspondingly massive body of literature discusses every facet of the Mass: its composition and compilation, its resulting coherence or incoherence, its Catholic or Protestant character, its wealth of symmetries and symbols secreted in the score. Tonight, however, the rare gift of a live performance of the complete Mass—for which Bach’s original had to wait a century—affords us direct, sensory experience of Bach's crowning expression of faith through music.

KYRIE (3 movements)

Kyrie eleison. Bach opens his Mass by invoking the Trinity with three imposing choral statements of Kyrie, “Lord.” The orchestra then introduces the theme of a monumental five-part choral fugue emphasizing eleison, “have mercy.” The music's chromaticism, minor tonality, concentrated texture, and sheer duration (this is by far the Mass’s longest movement) express the urgency of human need.

Christe eleison. In contrast to the Kyrie eleison, Bach’s appeal to the mercy of Christ is warmly welcoming in a major key, though, following a violin interlude, a second section returns to minor and conveys its own urgency. The two sopranos suggest Christ’s uniting of divinity and humanity as Bach alternates parallel and interweaving melodic lines.

Kyrie eleison. In Bach's theology God’s provision for mercy through Christ is by way of suffering and sacrifice, and the four opening notes of this choral fugue, first heard from the basses, seem to sketch the Cross: a beginning note, up to a half step above, down to a half step below, and back again to the original note. The four-part fugue on this cruciform theme accumulates power and ends in a major chord.

GLORIA (9 movements)

Gloria in excelsis. Trumpets, tympani, and virtuosic orchestral writing express the shift from human need to divine glory. Triple meter praises the triune God. On the repeated in excelsis, “in the highest,” the sopranos eventually climb to a high B.

Et in terra pax. Without a musical break, a sudden modification of mood and meter introduces “and on earth peace.” Bach expresses this prayer for humanity in music both imploring and hopeful. Fugal lines gather spirit and, upon the words hominibus bonae voluntatis, "all of good will," end in triumph.

Laudamus te. Solo violin and mezzo soprano declare “we praise thee” with ornamented, interlacing melody. Above the soprano’s final glorificamus te, “we glorify thee,” the violin climbs up and up to a stratospheric A, three octaves above middle C.

Gratias agimus tibi. An expansive and lyrical double fugue expresses “we give thanks to thee.” Gradually trumpets and tympani add their voices in proclaiming propter magnam gloriam tuam, “for thy great glory.”

Domine Deus. In the company of a winsome flute, soprano and tenor echo one another, singing complementary texts in a duet that express the duality of “Father almighty” and “only begotten Son.” Yet this duality is also unity, and following an extended central interlude for flute, the two voices sing together on Domine Deus, agnus Dei, “Lord God, lamb of God.”

Qui tollis peccata mundi. Without pause we hear the somber words “who takes away the sins of the world” in descending triads, minor tonality, solemn tempo, and a darkening of the chorus’s range, as Bach leaves the highest sopranos silent. Above the chorus two flutes wing their hovering flight.

Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris. Bach first assigns the theme of miserere nobis, “have mercy upon us,” to a plaintive oboe d'amore, evoking occasional soft sighs from the strings. The solo voice then pours forth supplication for the mercy of Christ, “seated at the right hand of the Father.”

Quoniam tu solus sanctus. What a surprise! Bach sets “thou alone art most holy...most high” to music quite low: hunting horn, bassoons and solo bass voice. The hunting horn is traditionally associated with royalty. Might the low register of this musical ensemble, unique in Bach’s music, suggest the paradoxical humility of Christ’s royal holiness?

Cum Sancto Spiritu. To celebrate the Holy Spirit—God's divine energy, the third person of the Trinity—Bach charges his music with energetic triple meter in a surging dance of praise. An exuberant five-part fugue leads to brilliant repetitions of in gloria Dei Patris, Amen, "in the glory of God the Father, Amen," a glorious climax to the entire GLORIA.

CREDO (9 movements)

Credo in unum Deum. The tenors begin Bach’s multi-movement proclamation of the church’s Nicene Creed with a Gregorian melody long used for that purpose. Out of this theme Bach constructs a five-voice fugue of imposing clarity and confidence, a fitting introduction to Christianity’s central definition of faith: “I believe in one God....”

Patrem omnipotentem. Bach praises “the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth” in fugal writing of irresistible intentionality. In the final seven measures, the orchestra runs its full range from the lowest notes of the strings to the highest notes of the trumpet, sweeping upward through omnium visibilium et invisibilium, “all things visible and invisible.”

Et in unum Dominum. For the third time Bach chooses a duet to portray Christ's dual nature, Deum verum de Deo...descendit de coelis, “true God from true God...who came down from heaven.” This time the duet is double, with intricate interplay among oboes and violins, repeated and elaborated by soprano and alto.

Et incarnatus est. A reverential, descending motif in the violins introduces and accompanies the pervasive choral theme: a descending arpeggio, expressive of divine descent to humankind in the mystery of Christ’s incarnation ex Maria virgine, “from the virgin Mary.”

Crucifixus. The fifth movement of nine, Crucifixus is at the center of Bach’s CREDO, as Christ’s crucifixion is at the center of Bach’s faith. Over a descending, chromatic bass pattern in the orchestra, reiterated twelve times, Bach writes choral music intensely charged with chromatic tension. Then, at the very last, a miraculous modulation carries et sepultus est, “and was buried,” to a hushed ending as tender as a Pietà.

Et resurrexit. Resurrected life surges in a rousing dance. For the first time since the GLORIA Bach employs full orchestra. Amid the exultation, in an extraordinary innovation, Bach sets et iterum venturus est cum gloria, “and he shall come again in glory,” in what might be called a coloratura solo for the entire bass section.

Et in Spiritum Sanctum. Bach lightens texture to confess faith in the Holy Spirit, vivificantem, “life-giver.” This tribute to the third person of the Trinity is a trio for two oboes and bass solo, in triple meter. The setting is uncomplicated and the mood pastoral.

Confiteor. A confident choral fugue strides through the confession of faith in unum baptisma in remissionem peccatorum, “one baptism for the remission of sins.” At the final occurrence of peccatorum the music slows dramatically and turns somber, leading without pause to the next movement.

Et expecto resurrectionem. “We look for the resurrection of the dead” is hushed and apprehensive. Then resurrection bursts forth in a dance of ecstatic celebration, and Bach concludes the entire CREDO with a series of florid, ascending Amens.

SANCTUS (2 movements).

Sanctus. In the biblical Sanctus of Isaiah, chapter 6, six-winged seraphs sing a threefold “holy, holy, holy.” Bach’s musical setting is a nesting of threes within sixes. A massive six-part chorus calls out in triadic groupings, proclaiming sanctus in whirling triplet rhythm.

Pleni sunt coeli et terra. With no musical break, the chorus enters upon a fugue. The full orchestra soon joins, and a lively swirl resounds until “heaven and earth” are indeed “full of God’s glory.”

OSANNA and BENEDICTUS (3 movements)

Osanna. After the Sanctus, with its full orchestra and six-part chorus, we might ask what resources remain for Bach to use in this subsequent outburst of salutation and praise: “Hosanna in the highest”? Bach’s answer: a full orchestra with eight-part chorus. The lucid architecture of Bach’s fugal writing leads to a gladsome instrumental conclusion.

Benedictus. In striking contrast to what has preceded, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord” engages only three musical lines—wistful violin, tenor voice, and continuo—as if in sudden recollection that Christ’s blessedness takes the humble form of suffering servant. The final vocal phrase is abandoned by the violin, which then resumes to conclude the movement.

Osanna. In accordance with liturgical practice, Bach repeats the “Hosanna.” After the sobering Benedictus this startling recurrence of tumult seems oblivious to Christ’s impending suffering—as indeed the crowds seemed to be who cheered Christ’s entry into Jerusalem on the foal of an ass.

AGNUS DEI (2 movements)

Agnus Dei. This aria for unison violins and alto, with its inconsolable chromaticism and minor mode, gives occasion for intent meditation on the sufferings of Christ as “the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.” At one occurrence of peccata, "sins," Bach brings the music to a complete standstill.

Dona nobis pacem. For his closing movement, “ Grant us peace,” Bach returns to music he has earlier used for Gratias agimus tibi, “We give thanks to thee.” Thus Bach’s conclusion seems less an urgent petition, such as we heard in the opening Kyrie eleison, than a grateful acknowledgement of the peace presented by, and provided through, the Mass.

*****








Thursday, September 12, 2013

Chartres Cathedral and the Seven Liberal Arts



The West or Royal Portal of Chartres, sculpted around 1150 AD, brings worshippers into the Cathedral's vast and sacred space.

The left or north arch of the Portal portrays the ascension of Christ, drawn upward on a cloud by two angels while the apostles look on from below. The central arch portrays Christ seated in heavenly majesty.

The right or south arch celebrates the incarnation of God's Wisdom in Christ. The infant Jesus sits in the lap of Mary, who in turn is enthroned upon what Christian tradition has called the Sedes sapientiae or Throne of Wisdom. This tradition is rooted in the dozen or so passages in the New Testament that refer to Jesus as God's Wisdom incarnate.

The astonishing multiplicity of the Royal Portal's images is overwhelming, and many images are inscrutable even to art historians. Here let's concentrate on only one group of images from this south arch, where the traditional representation of the Throne of Wisdom takes on new and specific meaning. Uniquely at Chartres, the Throne is framed by the seven liberal arts, carved into two bandlike arches or archivolts.




Each of the liberal arts is represented by a carved Personification of the art, with a historical practitioner of the art carved immediately below. One of the practitioners (Boethius) is Christian, and possibly a second (Donatus); the others are pagan. The Personifications are all female, in keeping with the feminine gender of the Latin ars, "art."

To begin at the lower left of the outer archivolt, the practitioner Aristotle bends over his writing while personified Logic stands above him with a staff in hand. Above them sits Cicero with Rhetoric above, then Euclid with Geometry above.

Progressing through the peak of the archivolt and down the other side we find Arithmetic above Boethius, Astronomy above Ptolemy, and Grammar above Priscian (6th-century author of an eighteen-volume treatise on grammar), or perhaps it is Donatus (4th-century tutor of St. Jerome).


Grammar has her work cut out for her. Switch at the ready, she is attempting to teach two boys.
 One of them, his book akimbo, is enjoying a good pull on the curly hair of his more studious classmate.
 Some things never change.

Since the figures of Grammar and her practitioner fill the final spaces available on the outer archivolt, Music has been carved on the inner archivolt, alongside Grammar. She is occupied with her instruments of research: bells and strings. Below Music, Pythagorus her practitioner sits at his work. 

Why are the seven liberal arts arrayed on this south portal? Philip Ball suggests an answer:
It was not until the start of the second millennium after the crucifixion of Christ that the western world dared to revive the ancient idea that the universe was imbued with a comprehensible order. That notion flourished in the twelfth century, fed by an influx of texts from the classical world, preserved by the Islamic scholars and now becoming available in Latin translation. (Universe of Stone, pp.5–6)
The 12th-century masters of the Chartres School were devoted to the liberal arts as God-given resources for exploring and expressing the comprehensible order of creation. Their devotion was grounded in the affirmation of Genesis 1:
God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good.
Other biblical books also testify to creation's order and regularity, this one with charming imagery:

       When the Lord created his works from the beginning,
          and, in making them, determined their boundaries,
       he arranged his works in an eternal order,
          and their elements for all generations.
       They neither hunger nor grow weary,
          and they do not abandon their tasks.
       They do not crowd one another,
          and they never disobey his word. (Sirach 16)

Another passage issues an enticing challenge for inquisitive students of arithmetic, geometry, and music:
You [God] have arranged all things by measure and number and weight. (Wisdom of Solomon 11)
The masters at Chartres treasured these scriptural passages. The measures, numbers, and weights they famously employed in the immense Cathedral's design and construction express their profound trust in universal and comprehensible order.

For the Chartres masters the liberal arts are manifestations of God's Wisdom and portals into God's presence. The liberal arts are not alone, however. Christ is central in the south portal, as in the other two portals as well. The Royal Portal unites sacred and secular, faith and reason, liberal arts and divine wisdom. All truth is of God.

One of the Chartres masters, William of Conches, was particularly devoted to uniting reason and faith. He anticipates the objection of any who would quote the Apostle Paul's assertion (First Corinthians, chapter 1) that "God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom":
The wisdom of the world is foolishness with God, not because God thinks the wisdom of this world foolish, but because it is foolish in comparison with God's wisdom. It does not follow on that account that the wisdom of this world is foolishness. (Philosophia, I, 19).
Christians today, I believe, should be inspired by the Chartres masters to place our trust in a universe imbued with comprehensible order, and to pursue truth through the liberal arts and beyond, wherever truths may be found. We should ever be asking ourselves, Is my faith reasoning faith? Is my reasoning faithful reasoning?


*****



        







Monday, August 19, 2013

Holy Wisdom and the Liberal Arts


Wisdom with her daughters
Faith, Hope, and Love

This icon's inscription, HAGIA SOPHIA, can be read as Saint Sophia or as Holy Wisdom. Saint Sophia refers to a Christian martyr of legend who died from grief after being forced to watch her three daughters tortured.

Holy Wisdom, on the other hand, is portrayed in biblical scripture as God's "master worker" (Proverbs 8), as God's "only begotten," the "active cause of all things" who "orders all things well" (The Wisdom of Solomon 7–8), and consistently, in both Hebrew and Greek, as female. Tradition has often called her Lady Wisdom.

As a teacher in a liberal arts college I prize the liberal arts for their immeasurable (and unmeasurable) worth to us as individual persons and as a society. In a posting of August 8th I quoted John Calvin to illustrate that this Christian reformer and originator of one of the great traditions of the church also prized the liberal arts. Calvin prized them because he believed that all truth, whatever its source, comes from God, and that the liberal arts bring us knowledge and insights that are "true and just":
Those persons are superstitious who do not venture to borrow anything from heathen authors. All truth is from God; and consequently, if wicked men have said anything that is true and just, we ought not to reject it; for it has come from God. (Commentary on Titus 1:12, tr. William Pringle, pp.300-301)
Long before Calvin, a passage from The Wisdom of Solomon made an even broader assertion. It declares that an entire range of disciplines involving inquiry, reasoning, and skill are manifestations from God, and that these disciplines are taught by Holy Wisdom:

          May God grant me to speak with judgment,
         and to have thoughts worthy of what I have received;
       for he is the guide even of wisdom
          and the corrector of the wise.
       For both we and our words are in his hand [rhetoric, authorship],
          as are all understanding and skill in crafts. [artisanship].
       For it is he who gave me unerring knowledge of what exists, [metaphysics]
          to know the structure of the world and the activity of the elements, [physics, chemistry]
          the beginning and end and middle of times, [cosmology, history]
          the alternations of the solstices and the changes of the seasons,
          the cycles of the year and the constellations of the stars, [astronomy]
          the natures of animals and the tempers of wild animals, [zoology]
          the powers of spirits and the thoughts of human beings, [psychology]
          the varieties of plants and the virtues of roots. [botany, pharmacology]
       I learned both what is secret and what is manifest,
          for Wisdom, the fashioner of all things, taught me.... (7:15–22)

Who more than she is fashioner of what exists?
       And if anyone loves righteousness, her labors are virtues;
          for she teaches self-control and prudence, justice and courage; [ethics]
       nothing in life is more profitable for mortals than these. (8:6–7)

Some years ago I read this biblical passage with a class. Afterwards one of my wonderful students, a chemistry major, came into my office. She told me, through tears, that though she had grown up in church, never before had she ever heard a single word of religious affirmation concerning her studies in chemistry.

I asked her, "So do these biblical verses increase your respect for your major?" "Oh no," she said. "They increase my respect for God."

I think my student got it exactly right. Some Christians reading this passage might tend to boast, "So, we see that academic studies are subordinate to the God we worship." My student upended this reasoning with a more profound insight: the God who is worthy of worship is revealed through our authorship and artisanship, our study of cosmology and physics, our observations in zoology and botany, our experiments in psychology and chemistry, our inquires in metaphysics and ethics.

Lady Wisdom (13:5) tells us so:

       For from the greatness and beauty of created things
          comes a corresponding perception of their Creator.


*****