As described in a previous article, much of the introductory comments to the St. Matthew Passion found in the 2022 program have to do with context: geographical, historical, musical.
Suzuki’s Preambulum, however, comments more on the Passion’s central message of atonement. He begins his six-page article with an account of the BCJ’s tours of Israel in 1999–2000, where his first cantata recordings had been received with great fanfare. The maestro lovingly describes modern Israel as a “bountiful” land, like Scripture says, “flowing with milk and honey,” and goes on to recount the delicious abundance of olives, foie gras, fish, and wine.
There’s the tourist’s frisson at the proximity to such historically charged places. Beersheba really exists! To say nothing of Jerusalem, the Kidron Valley, or the Garden of Gethsemane. Like so many before him, Suzuki, a lifelong Christian, became a pilgrim to the Holy Land, touched that such places of legend are not mere legend, but real. At the church of the Holy Sepulchre, says Suzuki, “I touched the soil of Golgotha” (p. 4). Though among the crowds, lanterns, and chintz, it was a rather garish experience, “not exactly the proper image of a person before the cross of Christ.”
For those of us whose access to Christianity is primarily abstract, through thought, prayer, and text, the pilgrim encounter is a jolt of physical reality. But the way to understand the cross is not to “touch” the soil of Golgotha in Israel. Nor can it be limited to the various crosses seen hanging in churches in Europe or Japan. “I cannot deny that the images [of the passion] provided by the St. Matthew Passion occupy an important place in my heart” (p. 3).
The message to the reader, who is about to hear one of the great works of Christian music and artistic expression, is clear: an encounter with Bach’s St. Matthew Passion is just as authentic an encounter with Christ’s cross as is a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Compared to tourist-trap Jerusalem, Bach’s musical imagery is properly weighty: the heavy steps of Jesus dragging his own instrument of torture toward execution hill.
What follows is Suzuki’s four-page musical exegesis of the whole work, marrying the pathos of the passion with the immensely expressive music and words. The longest description attends the alto arioso of mvt. 59, “Ach Golgotha! Unseliges Golgotha!”
…it is the most striking alto arioso of the whole piece. Despite the unhurried 4/4 tempo, the base form is never resolved until the last chord. It makes a striking image of Jesus hanging on the cross. Two obbligato oboes da caccia start with with a melody in A-flat major for three bars, repeated in G-flat 7th for an additional three bars, creating an unbearable suspended state.
Meanwhile the alto voice’s “glory” [Herrlichkeit] and “shame” [shimpflich] (measure 3), “blessing and salvation” [Segen und das Heil] (measure 5) become “curse and cross” [Fluch ans Kreuz] (measure 6). “Innocence” [Unschuld] (measure 10) is sung in D, immediately followed by “the guilty one” [schuldig] (measure 11) in D-flat, highlighting the contrast and just how outrageous the crucifixion here is.
All along the key signature is sinking deeper and deeper into the flat. “The earth and the air are taken away” [Erd und Luft entzogen werden] (measure 9) suggests that in the crucifixion the earth itself is snatched away, with Christ’s last breath, our life’s breath with it. We finally arrive at A-flat minor, the same key in which Jesus sings the ultimate expression of his agony. A-flat minor is the parallel key of C-flat major, a key that requires seven flats!
As is apparent in the circle of fifths, a world of deep flats shifts into a world of sharps in just one step. In other words, at this point A-flat minor here is G-sharp minor, and C-flat major is conceals B major. And B major is the key in which the crowd has just shouted, “You who would destroy God’s temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself! If you are God’s Son, then climb down from the cross!” (mvt. 58b).
In other words, in this 59th song, the “sharp” cries of the sinful crowd flip into the world of deep flats that depict Jesus Christ’s sorrow. At this, “sin” and “forgiveness,” represented by the world of sharps and the world of flats, are shown as two sides of the same coin.
Listening repeatedly to the St. Matthew Passion, we come to realize that however garish the Golgotha of modern-day Jerusalem may be, our sins are many times worse; the love of Jesus Christ embraces us with a depth and breadth that is dozens of times greater, and perhaps even of a completely different dimension. (Bach Collegium Japan, Passion Concert 2022 Program, p. 7)
I’m not sure such bold preaching would be found in an occidental program, but here, to a crowd ready for full information, eager to feel the full depths of Bach’s music, it is completely natural.
(more on the BCJ concert program here)