Before we continue with Part Two of the St. John Passion of J.S. Bach, we must confront the specter of anti-Semitism, which has always hovered over this work.  First of all, the Gospel of John is singled out as the only Gospel that is anti-Semitic.  It uses the term "the Jews" 72 times, and nearly all of them are negative connotations.  John's Gospel has been used to validate and justify persecution of the Jewish people.  This had never occurred to me until I sang with the Detroit Symphony Chorus, and we were rehearsing the St. John Passion.  The then-conductor of the DSO, Gunther Herbig, came to visit us one evening, and pointed out that John was a man of ambition, and, in order to ingratiate himself with the Romans, he made the Jews the villains.  The Romans were merely the means to an end.  Thus, Pontius Pilate comes across as a thoughtful, even philosophical, man.  He, numerous times, attempts to set Jesus free, and has some insightful conversations with Christ.  We almost want to applaud when he says:  "What I have written, I have written!"  (John 19:22)  He does not come across as a villain.  Herbig's comments are not shared by many theologians, however.  The reason John seems anti-Semitic could be due to the fact that his Gospel was written maybe three or more decades after the Synoptic Gospels were, and, by then, there had occurred a split among the Jews:  there were the rabbinical Jews, and those Jews who followed Jesus (as yet, the term "Christian" had not been coined).  John referred to the former as the villains.  But, the latter were Jews, too. After all, Jesus himself was a Jew, as were all the disciples and most of the early believers in Christ's teachings.  It was only after the Roman Empire was Christianized that "the Jews" became the enemy, and Jesus and the Apostles were considered non-Jewish. 

Still, it is odd that Pilate seems so sympathetic.  What kind of man was he?  Palestine, at the time of the Passion, was known as the "armpit" of the Roman Empire.  No one was given its governorship as a reward.  It was poor, remote, and populated by an ornery group of people with a peculiar monotheistic religion, whose capital punishment was stoning, not crucifixion (which was Roman).  Pilate was, quite likely, a repressive sort of ruler, not given to philosophical and theological rumination. 

Throughout the centuries following the reign of Constantine, the first Christian emperor, hatred of the Jews was a way of life.  And, once the Roman Catholic Church began virtually ruling Europe, following the collapse of the Empire, efforts were made to eradicate the Jews.  The famous Crusades were an excuse to destroy the Jews as well as to drive the Muslims out of the Holy Land, and, while the Inquisition was begun as a court to persecute lapsed Catholics, it quickly became an instrument against Jews, too.

Enter Martin Luther.  A devout monk, Luther became more and more dismayed at the cavalier attitudes of the Church, most famously, the sales of indulgences, but 94 other evils as well, which he posted on a very large placard on the church door in Wittenberg, on All-Saints' Eve in 1517.  This was an extraordinarily brave thing to do, as he would surely be marked for capture, trial and death.  He was "kidnapped" and spirited away by a prince, and hidden in the safety of a castle (the Wartburg), where he translated the Bible into German, another grave act against the Church.  Luther, who never considered himself to be anything else than Catholic, nevertheless split the Christian Church forever.  He assumed that the Jews, the main victims of Catholic oppression, would applaud this rebellion (or Reformation, as Protestants call it).  They did, but when Luther further assumed that the Jews would want to be converted to Christianity in gratitude, they refused to do so.  Luther became petulantly outraged, and, for the rest of his life, he vented his spleen against them.  He called for their extermination, confiscation of their properties and destruction of their temples.  He was not the last German to do so ... the Gospel of John gave this hatred validation.

Enter J. S. Bach.  Because he was a life-long, devout, Lutheran (he was born 140 years after Luther's death), and the composer of the St. John Passion, which, time and again, quotes John's villainous characterizations of the Jews, it can easily be assumed that Bach was anti-Semitic. It is for just that reason that some choirs, directors, and musicians in general shy away from this otherwise great musical masterpiece.

But, do these people really understand what Bach did?  Yes, John is quoted, verbatim, though many sensitive musical directors soften the score by making a few changes in the libretto, excising the word "Jew" and inserting "crowd," or "mob," or "people.”  (After all, the crowds that called for Christ's death could hardly consist of Jews only.  There were Romans, of course, and street people. Would all those people who waved palms a few days earlier, all turn on Jesus?  Please!)  But while Bach quotes John, he does something that makes his Passion special, something that the Oberammergau Passion Play cannot do.  (Yes, Oberammergau is not guiltless when it comes to portraying Jews as Christ-killers).  As I said earlier, it is the Chorales that are the unique feature of his Passions, and that's why Bach had the entire congregation, or audience, participating in them.  Chorales are the Christian community's responses to the Passion story.  They do not blame anyone for Christ's death except us.  WE crucified Him because of our sins and love of pleasure.  WE, like Peter, have denied Him.  How can WE thank Him for His sacrifice?  WE should take care of one another.  WE should love our neighbors.  In the Chorales, Bach deflects the guilt of Christ's agony from the Jews to ourselves, and asks us to pray to God to help us become better people. 

Index

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10