“Wenn ich einmal soll scheiden…”, St Matthew Passion, Bach Chor Munich, Karl Richter, 1971, with English subtitles
62. Chorale
Be near me, Lord, when dying,
O part not Thou from me!
And to my succour flying,
Come, Lord, and set me free!
And when my heart must languish
In death’s last awful throe,
Release me from mine anguish,
By Thine own pain and woe.
62. Choral
Wenn ich einmal soll scheiden,
so scheide nicht von mir,
wenn ich den Tod soll leiden,
so tritt du denn herfür!
Wenn mir am allerbängsten
wird um das Herze sein,
so reiss mich aus den Ängsten
kraft deiner Angst und Pein!
Fellow travelers,
The music I have chosen today is the hymn: “Wenn ich einmal soll scheiden…,” which JS Bach places right after Jesus’s last desolate cry: “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani” when he dies and the world becomes silent. It is a simple, well known tune, sung as a response to Jesus’ death. The lyrics lead us to contemplate our own death with the plea that God “be near us .. set us free … release us from our anguish.” This is the movement I follow in this consolation, a movement towards recognizing God with us, even in dying.
If you would like to follow the Good Friday movement as Bach tells it walking through the Matthew gospel you can find a suggestion at the end of this blog post. The selection (which spans ca. 10 min) is taken from the Netherlands Bach Association and starts with the heart wrenching Alto Aria (59) "Ach Golgatha", lamenting the hapless dying of the innocent, and walks from there through Jesus last words at the cross to the consoling choral "Wenn ich einmal soll scheiden..." (62). In order to listen to it, scroll all the way to the bottom where you find the video and texts in the Addendum.
So let us walk together now through the choral Be near me, Lord, when dying (or closer to the German: When I shall depart one day depart you not from me), which Bach places after Jesus exhales one last time. Begin by listening to the short piece (click the video above). If you can, hum or sing along in our choir of mourners. The English translation fits the tune.
“When I must depart one day…”
When it comes to Good Friday, I know that I know not much. We open the door and gaze on a mysterium which cannot be explained. Still, we do know this: we all must die one day. But usually we have our life well enough organized to avoid that fact. We do not want to be reminded too often of it. Remember you are mortal (memento mori) might be a good monastic practice, but it does not feel very practical for the rest of us. Would we not all fall into the terror of death, develop anxieties and stress? But the hymn starts nonetheless: “Be near me, Lord, when dying…”
“Release me from my anguish…“
And now, this passion season, in a time of plague, the whole world is thrown into memento mori. Every day a new death count. We are forced into isolation, some into loneliness, waiting for death to take his toll, surrounded by the stories of tragedy and lonely dying in solitary emergency rooms. We are frightened for ourselves and for our loved ones. Our neighbors. The people who provide our food. The mail and package deliverers, the nurses, doctors, caretakers, first responders, police. The list goes on and on.
The media is full of coping strategies of how to avoid death, but more how to avoid our fear of death; clean your groceries, use sanitizer, always, do not touch. Do not mingle, stay six feet away, no, better twelve, …
And so we clean our hands, keep our distance, and still, life is in suspension. We are holding our breath, trying to calm our fears. We feel our vulnerability creeping in on us, stalking us. I have not known some fears until I became a mother. Practicing momentum morem with my baby daughter is hard. To look at her and to be aware of her mortality would not be considered a healthy attitude by some. Still, wise women and men before us keep reminding us that in order to cherish life we must contemplate its vulnerability.
“Come, Lord, and set me free! “
Where is our hope? Our hope is in a God who died publicly humiliated outside the walls of a minor city in a great empire. This God is not a God for winners, not a God who makes us great again. We believe in a God who throws the rich from their thrones and lifts up the lowly. Our God dies daily, alongside the poor, the outcast, the immigrant child, the fearful and victimized, the one who dies alone. Our hope is in a God who chooses humility, a God who bows deeply, who suffers with us, even unto death. A God who dies daily alongside those in this plague, who knows the fear of those who serve others in this pandemic, who knows the avoidance of those who would rather go back to sleep.
“God did not die for us, but with us. ”
God did not die for us, but with us, says Karen Armstrong. God bends down deep, into our deepest fears and sorrows, into death anxiety, doubts, despair, even into god-forsakenness.
Eli Eli, lamai sabachtani, my God, why have you forsaken me?
“And to my succor flying…“
JS Bach is a master teacher when it comes to helping us contemplate our human condition, our despairs and our hopes. Bach’s gift to us is that he did not just tell a historic story. He constantly translates it into the inner movement of our own soul. He tells the historical story in recitatives while using hymns and arias to deepen the existential aspect of the story, the “for-me-ness” of it. And by doing this, he creates a safe space, which helps us facing our fears and giving words to our sorrows.
And only when we go close, when we let Christ’s passion move our heart, and when we humble our knowing under the mysterium , can it start to heal our hearts. Christ’s story becomes the foil, on which we can project our own sorrows, sufferings, and God forsakenness. And only then can we begin to see them in the light of the eternal.
“Release me from my anguish…“
Taking Christ’s passion to heart is memento mori. With Bach’s help, we can lean into this moment of death, with heavy hearts, facing our own. The ultimate healer is walking with us through the valley of death, carries all our anguish, and foreshadows the way to renewed life. This is the hope, this is the Good Friday journey for our weary souls.
Worried, lonely, sorrowful, hopeful,
let us now come as we are
and walk together
through our emptiness
towards the glimmering Easter light.
And may God walk among us.
AF
This post is the 5th of our Passion Week Consolations 2020. To enter our virtual gathering space click here. To share your thoughts with us, write us here. To Offer Your Gift, click here. If you are looking for personal consultation, visit our PathFinder.
Peace and Blessings, Almut & Chuck
Addendum
For those who want to walk through the whole movement you can find the selection and texts below.
The selection (which spans 10 min from 2:15:00 to 2:25:00) is taken from the Netherlands Bach Association and starts with the heart wrenching Alto Aria (59 "Ach Golgatha", lamenting the hapless dying of the innocent (If it starts elsewhere please scroll the red line all the way to 2:15:00). It walks us from there through Jesus last words at the cross to the consoling choral "Wenn ich einmal soll scheiden..." (62).
59. Arioso (Alt I)
Ach Golgatha, unselges Golgatha!
Der Herr der Herrlichkeit muss
schimpflich hier verderben,
der Segen und das Heil der Welt wird
als ein Fluch ans Kreuz gestellt.
Der Schöpfer Himmels und der Erden
soll Erd und Luft entzogen werden.
Die Unschuld muss hier schuldig
sterben,
das gehet meiner Seele nah;
Ach Golgatha, unselges Golgatha!
60. Arie (Alt I, Chor II)
Sehet, Jesus hat die Hand,
uns zu fassen, ausgespannt,
Kommt! –
Wohin? –
in Jesu Armen
sucht Erlösung, nehmt Erbarmen,
Suchet! –
Wo? –
in Jesu Armen.
Lebet, sterbet, ruhet hier,
ihr verlass’nen Küchlein ihr,
Bleibet –
Wo? –
in Jesu Armen.
61. Rezitativ, Chor, Evangelist
Und von der sechsten Stunde an war
eine Finsternis über das ganze Land
bis zu der neunten Stunde. Und um
die neunte Stunde schriee Jesus laut
und sprach:
Jesus: Eli, Eli, lama asabthani?
Evangelist
Das ist: Mein Gott, mein Gott,
warum hast du mich verlassen?
Etliche aber, die da stunden, da sie das
höreten, sprachen sie:
Chor (I)
Der rufet dem Elias!
Evangelist
Und bald lief einer unter ihnen, nahm
einen Schwamm und füllete ihn mit
Essig und steckete ihn auf ein Rohr
und tränkete ihn.
Die andern aber sprachen:
Chor (II)
Halt! lass sehen, ob Elias komme
und ihm helfe?
Evangelist
Aber Jesus schriee abermal laut
und verschied.
59. Arioso (Alt I)
Ah, Golgotha! Unhappy Gologotha!
‘Twas there the Lord of glory vilely was rejected.
The blessed Saviour of the world,
Here hangs upon th’accursed tree.
The God who heav’n and earth created,
On thee must perish from the earth,
The innocent must die,
as do the guilty.
Ah! how this grief afflicts my soul.
Ah, Golgotha! Unhappy Golgotha!
60. Aria
See ye, see the Saviour’s outstretched
Hands! He would draw us to Himself.
Come!
Where?
In Jesus’ bosom.
Seek Redemption, seek ye mercy,
Seek them!
Where?
In Jesus’ bosom.
Live ye, die ye, rest ye here,
Ye whom sin and guilt oppress,
Rest.
Where?
In Jesus’ bosom.
61. Recitative, Chorus, Evangelist
Now from the sixth hour there was
darkness over all the land until the ninth
hour. And about the ninth hour, Jesus cried with a loud voice,
saying:
Jesus: Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani.
Evangelist
That is to say, “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?”
Some of them that stood there,
when they heard that, said:
Chorus
He calleth for Elias.
Evangelist
And straightway one of them ran, and took a sponge, and filled it with vinegar,
and put it on a reed,
and gave Him to drink.
The rest said:
Chorus
Let be, let us see whether Elias
will come to save Him.
Evangelist
Jesus, when He had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost.