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Performing the Bach Passions as a Jew

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By Ayana Haviv

Tomorrow I begin rehearsals on Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, as I have done with countless Passions over the years, and as always I am steeling myself for the isolation and alienation I feel as a Jew singing this intrinsically and unquestionably anti-Semitic text of an equally unquestionable masterpiece.

In the great classic Passions, there are always several anti-Semitic scenes, most obvious of which is the one where we, the chorus of Jews, sing of our blood lust and of how much we want Jesus killed. The sound of a noisy obstinate lynch mob, sometimes with caricatured witchy voices, are added by the composers and their interpreters, but the text is from the Gospels. Those were written in Greek, not Hebrew, for a reason: to try to persuade the Romans and other pagans, not fellow Jews, of the tenets of Christianity. It would never do to blame the Romans for Jesus’ death if they were trying to convert them; instead, the authors of the Gospels made the Jews the central villains of their story. It is the Gospels, not only Bach, who quote the murderous Jewish mob as cursing themselves: “his blood be upon us and on our children.” (See figure below.)

Note to figure: The contradiction at the crux, the most sublime & the ugliest: the congregation joins with the disciples in a gorgeous, heartfelt chorale taking collective responsibility for Christ’s death with “I am the one, I should pay for this;” a few pages later, the mob of Jews willfully curse themselves and their descendants with “His blood be upon us and on our children.” Johann Sebastian Bach, Matthäuspassion, BWV 244, images from Complete Score #569101, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, IMSLP

What many today do not know is what used to happen when these Passions were sung during Holy Week in Europe in the Middle Ages, Renaissance, and well beyond – they were sung in church, accompanied by fiery sermons also blaming the Jews for the murder of Jesus, and then the riled-up congregation would go out and murder a bunch of Jews. This was not at all rare – these Holy Week massacres happened so often that surviving records are often cursory and formulaic. Good Friday was especially notorious, and often priests/pastors themselves would lead their congregations in stoning Jewish houses, burning ghettos, and far worse. Christians of the era received the message on Good Friday that the Jews in their midst were their enemies, having killed their savior; only by converting to Christianity could they escape divine punishment. This did not go away with the Protestant Reformation – Martin Luther’s 1543 treatise “On the Jews and Their Lies” calls for the synagogues and Jewish homes to be burnt down by faithful Christians, even lamenting “We are even at fault for not striking them dead.” Catholics were just as bad. Even in Bach’s time, there were also those who argued for a more universal interpretation and less blaming of the Jews – yet the liturgy mainly stayed this way until after World War II, when some churches realized their own teachings’ contribution to the Nazi genocide. That was a welcome development, though not universal, and obviously not entirely successful in eradicating the myth that the Jews killed Jesus or its use as an excuse for violence.

To return to my experience singing these pieces – it is incredibly isolating knowing this bloody history in which many of my ancestors were murdered, and also knowing that my colleagues as well as the audience remain mainly blissfully ignorant of this context. In all my years of reading program notes, I have never once read anything of how Bach’s Passions affected the Jews who were his neighbors. I have seen passing mention of the anti-Semitism in the “kill Him” often with some boilerplate explanation/excuse  – Bach was a product of his time, and so on. And indeed he was. But shouldn’t audiences and performers know a bit more about exactly how murderous these times actually were toward the Jews who are a central part of the story? Shouldn’t they know some of the consequences of the text and music that they are appreciating as art in the safe, elegant concert hall – let alone as part of a religious service?

Instead, both audiences and my colleagues shrug the words away. As singers as well as appreciators of Western art music, we are painfully accustomed to Christian liturgy and to compartmentalizing, after all, especially if we as individuals are not believers in the text.

Of course, I am not arguing that we stop performing these masterpieces. The Bach Passions are hardly the only canonical works whose artistic merits earn them a place in contemporary programs despite these issues. I also am extremely familiar with problematic source texts – the Hebrew Bible is certainly one, not just the Gospels – which require creative interpretation to clear away the centuries of bigotry and close-mindedness in order to get to the valuable nuggets underneath. This is a worthy endeavor in all religious traditions.

But some context can go a long way, and also make the Jews around you feel less alone. It’s not only that people don’t know; what hurts is that they don’t care.

Notes

  1. Daniel Joslyn-Siemiatkoski, “Why Good Friday Was Dangerous for Jews in the Middle Ages and How That Changed,”The Conversation (April 15, 2019), accessed March 3, 2022, https://theconversation.com/why-good-friday-was-dangerous-for-jews-in-the-middle-ages-and-how-that-changed-114896
  2. For more on the tension in Bach’s world on the theological question of the Jews see Alex Ross, “Holy Dread,” New Yorker, January 2, 2017.

Author’s note: A version of this article was originally published on social media on February 18, where the author’s chorusmaster at LA Opera, Grant Gershon, saw it, sent it to the author’s fellow choristers, and incorporated it into music preparatory rehearsals. Maestro James Conlon incorporated portions into the pre-performance lecture and program notes. The author is extremely gratified that in this case, her employers certainly did care.

Ayana Haviv is a chorister at LA Opera and Los Angeles Master Chorale, and sings on numerous film and television scores. 

Songs of (Re)imagining: The Border CrosSing series

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Dr. Ahmed Anzaldúa founded Border CrosSing in 2017, a Minnesota-based organization that “envisions fundamental change in classical music culture, so that every concert, every audience, and the artists on stage truly reflect the cultural reality in which we live.” For more about Dr. Anzaldúa and the beginnings of Border CrosSing, read this 2019 interview with Dr. Anzaldúa by the Minneapolis Interview Project. I chatted with Dr. Anzaldúa in early Fall 2021 about ADEIB, and you can find that post here. Also, if you have 40 minutes, take a listen to Dr. Anzaldúa on The Choral Commons podcast. I wanted to provide a few resources of his incredible work; he’s been sharing his voice and knowledge, and every bit of it is worth your time.

 

The Border CrosSing series is distributed by Graphite Publishing, and is relatively new (publishing started in October 2020). The Graphite website lists 10 pieces (as of 1/21/22), with some options for different voicings. The music spans from the 1500s to current composers, in Spanish or one of Latin America’s indigenous languages, and preliminary contextual information is provided on each octavo (enough context to ground and begin the conductor’s own research). The earlier music is provided in performing editions, not urtext, including score markings that will aid in performance today, so that the music will be accessible to those who aren’t early-music specialists. “Xicochi” (link is SATB, but SSA and SA is also available) might be a piece for a developing vocal ensemble (or, of course, a developed ensemble that has not yet sung a villancico) with flexible instrumentation.

Listen to “Amo” here:

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“Amo” was composed by Nico Gutierrez, a composer based in Chicago, IL, with text by the composer’s grandfather, Mariano Melendro Serna (1984–1989). For full text and translation, as well as access to a perusal copy, click on this link here (“Amo”). SATB (with divisi) and unaccompanied, “Amo” presents plenty of opportunities for emotional exploration through dynamic and tempo nuance in conjunction with text analysis. While the text is short, it leaves a lot to discuss and apply, including the three potential meanings of the final line (I love them/I love you/I love everyone). 

 

Harmony shifts, both subtle and not, pull the listener into an emotional musical experience (or “real feels,” as I would likely say to my singers). The piece requires jumping in head first; between the first two measures, the music already moves from a more controlled emotion of the static first measure to something that feels a little less stable. It’s a beautiful moment, and it fits the application of the text. In measures 21 and 22, the Tenor 1 line cries in descending chromatics, and together with the Tenor 2 line, they do their best to express the pain or the joy of the memories referenced in the poetry (again, important text analysis work here). In measure 54, the brief respite on a D major chord on the word “sonreir” actually feels like a smile. The most obvious shift in harmony is from measures 29 to 30, and provides a clean but not overly pedantic delineation between poetic lines, as well as a shift between the past (memories) and present (crying and smiling in response).

 

My favorite moment, at least at the moment I am writing this, is measure 44 into 45. All voices are at the higher end of the written registers. The rising bass line adds movement to the already in-progress ascension of all voices. This, in addition to the fortissimo, is very striking and a bit emotionally uncomfortable. I love it.

 

Lots of good choral work can be done highlighting the moving voice in moments when the other voices are more static. And, of course, the repetitive but intentionally set “amo” at the end of the piece could be a fantastic emotional exercise for the singer: Why is the word “amo” repeated so many times? Are you thinking of a new memory each “amo,” or is the feeling getting more intense as you meditate on the same memory over and over?  

 

Incredible music and rich history are available to the choral profession through the Border CrosSing series. I encourage you to spend time with all the music in the series, and check back later for other releases.

 

 

Stories of Healing and Reimagining with Derrick Fox

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In March 2020, Dr. Derrick Fox was leading students toward a performance of “Seven Last Words of the Unarmed” by Joel Thompson. This performance was a culmination of choral experiences over multiple years, where Dr. Fox and students had worked to build an awareness of the human experience. They sang octavos covering different topics, such as mental health, and discussed how the topics were experienced by different people. Students engaged in leadership activities and the choirs met with local school choirs. In Thompson’s work, students had to be able to sing the pieces and have open conversations about the lived experience of Black folks in America. It had taken three years of work to lay the groundwork for this particular concert project. The performance was on Tuesday. School shut down the following Friday. 

 

With the performance behind them, Dr. Fox faced another problem: Students didn’t get community recovery time after this emotional performance experience due to the shut down. He was determined to find space to uplift, challenge, and affirm their experience. He knew hybrid learning, masks, and shields would be barriers to connection in Fall 2020, so he created “choir families” for students to build community and process their previous spring. He would sometimes observe these interactions to listen, learn, and find a way to recognize and see these singers in rehearsal and their community.

 

It’s Fall 2021 and they’ve been singing together– masked and 3 feet apart. His choirs are strong. He was surprised, because he thought there would be a long journey rebuilding. But they spent so much time taking care of each other, creating community and building trust, students returned in the fall and were all in. “I don’t wait for something wrong before I look up to see how something is going,” he says of his philosophy with students, in and out of rehearsal. He says to his students, “All I want you to be is the best version of you today.  I’m not one of those teachers who says leave it all at the door because music will make it all better, because that’s a lie. It can, but it’s a lie to say that’s a [capital T] Truth.”

 

Dr. Fox’s Cultivating Choral Communities workshop series were created specifically for the choral world. Every workshop is different, but begins the same: defining terms. It’s hard to move forward without a shared language. He facilitates conversations about diversity, including but not limited to racial equity. For example, he led sessions with a high school choir about power and proximity to power in the form of friendships. It was transformative and empowering. With organizations, he can empower them to do the work internally– fix processes or challenge curriculum that disenfranchise those that don’t have power. Communication within groups is imperative to this work. People who attend the workshops have varying degrees of knowledge and understanding. The real difficulty is when people are so locked into their own experiences that they aren’t aware of other people’s needs in the space. The dominant narrative in our country is the white perspective. Until we can all come together to have conversations that lead to action, we’re going to be stagnant. His ability lies in consensus building and bridge building.

 

Evaluating the last 18+ months of equity work, it’s evident the choral profession has aligned with the trend to appear as if they are doing something. Part of the work is vetting professionals invited to facilitate ADEIB (Access, Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Belonging) work. One has to do the work to bear the culture, and being from a culture does not make one a bearer of it. If we aren’t intentional, we can actually exclude people from our organizations; someone observing could say “Oh, that’s who they see as representative of my community” or “It doesn’t seem that the organization has done the work.” Going viral doesn’t mean it’s viable. On the other hand, our profession doesn’t give much leeway for mistakes. As soon as someone does something problematic, they are dropped, without being given any support to grow and change. Some organizations within the choral profession are more thoughtful about this work than others.

 

“How do we support long-term work?” It requires investment of time and thoughtfulness. While a one-off workshop can be important, it’s not just about the music sung; it’s about the words said. There needs to be space/time to talk; only then can we bring in what is needed. We can’t be enticed by expediency. This work doesn’t have an end time. With that commitment, we will begin to prepare people coming into the choral profession. Then maybe in the future, we won’t have to convince people this is a pillar of our organization. We are very concerned with changing the NOW, but there is a generation who have grown up with equity in a way many of us haven’t. Our profession can capitalize on this, and bring major change to the future.

 

“Equity is the action we put in place to achieve equality.”

 

Stories of Healing and Reimagining with Dr. Ahmed Anzaldúa

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This was a remarkably invigorating, inspiring, and humbling conversation with Dr. Ahmed Anzaldúa, Founder and Artistic Director of Border CrosSing, and Director of Music Ministries at Unity Church in St. Paul, a congregation with a robust music program including four adult choirs, children’s choir, and an annual musical.

 

In the initial months of COVID, Dr. Anzaldúa’s main task as a church musician was to determine how worship was going to happen. The focus was on music in the entire worship experience and new structures that hadn’t been in place (such as determining the new duties for the music staff). Choirs met over Zoom. Dr. Anzaldúa thought they might keep their original programming, but soon realized that wouldn’t work. They did different projects, virtual choirs, discussion groups, Yoga, and hosted guest speakers. His main concern was getting everybody connected. As vaccines became available, some singers returned to sing with other vaccinated members, with optional Zoom rehearsals. This fall, they fully reopened with mask and vaccine requirements. Since musicians need to assess their own levels of risk, Zoom will remain an option for some things. Dr. Anzaldúa emphasized that it is important to continue to create as much access as possible. In music ministry, it is important not to forget the ministry part.  

 

In the way of “silver lining,” building community over Zoom created a closeness within the choir that would have normally taken years to achieve. Ironically, Dr. Anzaldúa has spent more time with his choirs online than in-person, having started at Unity Church in September 2019. In addition to relationship building, they explored music they may not have explored if not for COVID. His favorite piece was one they commissioned from Abbie Betinis called “what if you slept”, a piece full of experimentation written to be performed with a virtual choir. Conversely, Dr. Anzaldúa has not enjoyed making community health decisions. Many choral professionals have had to create policies and safety protocols for ensembles, and these risk mitigation strategies have often been adopted by our entire communities. He found himself in the unenviable position of having to say no to outside requests or remind guests to keep their masks on. Also, Dr. Anzaldúa adds, he would be happy if he never edits another video, although he understands it’s been meaningful.

 

The past year and a half has come with multi-layered discussions. The church is committed to social justice and equity, and with this commitment can come uncomfortable conversations; many conversations have went beyond singing and vocal warm-ups. He recognizes that church spaces lend themselves to conversations that don’t always happen in an educational setting. When there is something problematic, you have to attend to it, or the community lives with that issue until it is addressed.

 

Dr. Anzaldúa is heavily involved in ADEI work, and has had a big role in shaping important projects such as the Justice Choir. When asked about equity, he affirms its centrality, and goes further, challenging how we often think of ADEI. Equity, he points out, is not a separate thing. “What’s the alternative?” he asks. Are choirs singing without thinking about equity/access? If one is not thinking about equity or access, are they living their life and doing their work without thinking about how it affects others? When it comes to our work in the choral world, Dr. Anzaldúa hopes that equity is so central to our work that it becomes integrated, not a separate pillar. Thinking of others, being empathetic, treating others with respect are all examples of equitable practices. “Those are things we can all get behind,” he states.

 

“We all have our limitations,” Dr. Anzaldúa comments, going on to say that we are all working in systems that are structurally racist, and we can’t take what we do out of that context. One example he gives: In some school districts, teachers may lose their job or face discipline for speaking out on some topics. He understands that people can be hesitant to be vocal, often for these reasons. It varies from person-to-person. He would wish that people that have opportunity to push back use those opportunities.

 

“For any justice work,” Dr. Anzaldúa said, “there has to be relationship work. Without relationship, it’s charity.” When we discuss equity work, it comes down to relationship. What’s the relationship you have with your singers, administrators, community? More importantly, what relationships are missing? Are the systems in place, whether previously designed or created you, preventing relationships with people in your space and community? What are your relationships and what are the quality of your relationships? Even social justice-minded people can be unsure of how to respond or who to engage when confronted with a social-justice issue. He has seen that happen in organizations as well. A lot of organizations realized they didn’t have a relationship that would allow them to reach out to a community. It’s important to do authentic outreach, and whether this is in an organization or community, it requires establishing relationships.

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