Bach's Passions, two ways (3rd review)

Bach composed the St. John Passion during the first winter that he was responsible for music at the St. Thomas and the St. Nicholas churches in Leipzig. In the years that followed, he added arias and choruses, then took those sections out and used some of them in his St. Matthew Passion. The latter work is much longer and calls for a double orchestra and a six-part choir.

So, the Matthew is more imposing and is recognized as a sublime musical achievement. Yet some Bach-lovers adore the simplicity of the John. Valentin Radu of Vox Ama Deus chose to present the earlier version of the John.

I saw the complete Matthew Thursday, the John on Good Friday and the last hour of the Matthew again on Friday after the conclusion of the John. (Both started at 8 p.m. but the Philadelphia Orchestra's Matthew didn't conclude until 11:15.)

The Vox Ama Deus presentation took place in the Kimmel Center's intimate Perelman Theater, where no one in the audience is very far from the performers. This was a family-style realization, in that Radu took time between sections to readjust music stands and microphones.

Intentionally rough

Radu's orchestra and singers have long experience with the instruments and style from Bach's time, and this rendition was thoroughly professional and quite moving. His flutes were wooden, giving off a haunted tone. His strings were gut, not steel, and used bows of unique shape and length, sounding intentionally rougher.

A soprano aria was beautifully accompanied by two six-stringed violi d'amore. All of the Vox Ama Deus participants played and sang in a lower key, half-a-tone below what's common in our day.

The Philadelphia Orchestra production used a platform in the shape of a cross, which extended from the conductor's podium to the rear of the stage. Flanking it on either side were two orchestras, the one on the left containing strings and woodwinds, the one on the right more strings. In the balcony stood the 80-member Westminster Choir and, above them in two tiers, almost up to the Verizon Hall ceiling, were four dozen children of the American Boychoir. This arrangement produced both a heavenly appearance and an ethereal sound.

Yannick without baton

Yannick Nézet-Séguin, conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra without a baton, had the musicians play with light and transparent tones. They used modern instruments with the addition of a theorbo (a very long version of lute) and viola da gamba (a smallish similarity of a cello.) The result was ravishingly beautiful.

Nézet-Séguin used the internationally acclaimed bass-baritone Luca Pisaroni as his Jesus, and the less-known but marvelous tenor Andrew Staples as narrator/evangelist. Staples was soft and conversational yet also was able to project ringing high notes. He and the other singers moved around the stage, interacting with each other and turning to listen to musicians and to the chorus at key moments. When Jesus refused to speak in his defense, choristers covered their mouths with their hands.

Radu's narrator and Jesus were not of that caliber, though they sang with fine musicianship. The most outstanding of Radu's solo singers were Richard Shapp as an imposing Pilate and Kevin Deas, who sang the gorgeous bass arias, "Come ye souls" and "Thou my savior give me answer."

Pretext for Auschwitz?

Vox Ama Deus used an English-language translation in an attempt to make the St. John Passion communicative. In contrast, the Philadelphia Orchestra singers used German for St. Matthew while English words were projected overhead. Until a few decades ago, audiences who were not German were not cognizant of the words in the Passions. Now, with projected translations, audience members notice, and some of them are disturbed.

Devout Christians accept everything in the Gospels as, well, gospel. But how can anyone reconcile the differences between the German text and the better-researched translations? And how about the differences in the narrations of Matthew versus John?

Matthew and John (in their books and in these cantatas) gave many Christians a pretext for the persecution of Jews, especially Matthew, with the sentence put into the mouths of Jews: "Let his blood be on us and on our children." Many commentators have pointed out how that drew a trail of blood that led to Auschwitz.

The Jewish "'mob'

Only in the Gospel According to Luke does Jesus say from the cross, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." To John's credit, in his book Jesus accepts his execution as the wish of God, saying, "Shall I not drink the cup which my Father has given me?" After all, didn't Jesus come to earth for the express purpose of dying for mankind's sins?

Yet these sentiments were overwhelmed by passages blaming the Jewish people and their religious leaders for the murder of God.

The evangelists had an agenda of turning the people of Judea away from their traditional religion and toward Christianity. So Matthew and John wrote about the guilt of "the priests and elders" and described "the mob" or "the Jews" demanding that Jesus be killed. They presented Pontius Pilate as sympathetic and fair-minded, in an obvious effort to ingratiate themselves with the Roman authorities.

One passage worth cutting

I'm comfortable with the main thrust of most of the texts, as in the opening chorus of John: "Lord our master, whose name in every land is ever honored everywhere, show us in this, thy passion's hour, how thou, the very son of God for endless time, art now ever glorified." And the final chorus is touching: "Rest well, sacred bones, rest well, and bring me also to my rest." But I'm uncomfortable with lyrics that portray the Jewish people as unanimously intent on killing Jesus.

Because these were the first complete St. Matthew Passions in the Philadelphia Orchestra's history, and since parts of the text have been omitted for 113 years, we have to wonder why that particular passage is sacrosanct. Since Nézet-Séguin presented an uncut version, I can accept its inclusion this one time. But at all redacted performances, that passage should be the first thing that's excised.♦


To read another review by Victor L. Schermer, click here.
To read another review by Tom Purdom, click here.