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Wednesday, 14 October 2020

Christ on the Mount of Olives - Beethoven's only oratorio

Christ on the Mount of Olives by Giovanni

In this, his 250th Anniversary year, please listen to Beethoven’s only oratorio – Christ on the Mount of Olives. Criticised by some for emphasizing Jesus’s humanity, for others it is precisely the vivid portrayal of Christ’s agony in the garden that connects the listener to the divine.

Christ on the Mount of Olives (Christus am Ölberge) was the only oratorio composed by Beethoven. Unlike other Passion Oratorios, it is set entirely in the Garden of Gethsemane and, also unusually, rather than using the voice of an evangelist to narrate the story, places Christ himself in the main (tenor) role. 

 

The piece was criticized, even by Beethoven himself (is any artist ever satisfied with their work?) Some commentators find fault in what they perceive as a rushed composition (apparently completed in two weeks in time for Holy Week in 1803), but most decry what they see as too great a focus on the “humanity” (rather than the divinity) of Christ. The oratorio offers an extended reflection stretching a few short but intense passages from scripture into a performance that completely envelops the listener in the agony and anguish of Jesus on the night before his trial and brutal death. This is a Maundy Thursday Vigil in music; but not a genteel vigil in a silent candle-lit church with beautiful arrangements by the flower-guild. Beethoven makes us spend our ‘watch hour’ with a man on the verge of a mental breakdown.

 

“Jehovah Thou my Father, as Thou hast power, give me strength to bear!” Jesus cries in the opening line of the libretto by Franz Xaver Huber. 

 

Luke’s account of the scene describes a seraph (the highest of the ranks of angels) attending Jesus in the garden. In the oratorio the seraph fulfils their role as a messenger of God; explaining the path Jesus must take and why. The seraph has a fantastic, almost impossible, vocal part (well seraphs are other-worldly aren’t they?!) 

 

The oratorio places Jesus’s decision to accept the cup of his passion right at the centre of the work, within a beautiful duet between God the Father (through the voice of the seraph) and God the Son, before Jesus sings “Then welcome, death”. The soldiers arrive soon after and lead him away - the work ending with what has become known colloquially as Beethoven’s “Hallelujah Chorus”. Agony replaced by hope. Jesus leaves not as victim, but victor. 

 

Jesus’s decision to accept the cup is presented here as the climax of his Passion - Beethoven omits the crucifixion and resurrection; mankind’s atonement with God starts in the garden, just like our fall. Whilst our attention is purposely directed towards the vivid portrayal of Christ’s emotions (not least by placing Christ in the principal vocal role), I am not sure I agree with those who imply a heretical tendency towards the separateness of the human and the divine in the composition. This interesting article by Fred Haight explores Beethoven’s moral philosophy and finds a link to the writing of the poet and philosopher Friedrich Schiller. Both artists were, he says, influenced by the desire for the emancipation of mankind expressed in the American Revolution but horrified by the barbarity of many in revolutionary France. Freedom doesn’t mean doing whatever we want, but to do God’s will. Haight writes:

 

“For Beethoven, as for Schiller, freedom is the freedom to develop one’s own cognitive powers, in order to carry out that necessary mission, on behalf of humanity as a whole, for which the Creator put us here in the first place.”

 

For Haight, it is Beethoven’s focus on this cognitive freedom in Christus am Ölberge that connects the listener to the divine;

 

“How many Christians see the acceptance of their own, personal “cup of Gethsemane” as a central point of their religion? Do they not prefer, rather, to focus upon a covenant with God, whereby they might obtain entrance into a future heaven, and ignore their responsibility to carry out God’s work here on earth? In times of great crisis, such as war, this quality of Gethsemane may arise in the majority of people, but in other times, such as ours, it is sadly lacking”

 

In this programme note to accompany a rare performance of the piece in February by the LSO (which, sadly, we missed), Lindsay Kemp suggests that Beethoven may have found personal meaning in Huber’s treatment of the text. The previous summer, Beethoven had composed the ‘Heiligenstadt Testament’ - an unsent letter to his family composed while recouperating from mental illness brought on by the realisation of his oncoming deafness. 

 

Perhaps Huber’s depiction of Christ’s mental anguish and fear for the future - before accepting his task in life (and death) affirmed Beethoven’s own decision to continue he composing despite his increasing disability? 

 

This year, the 250th anniversary of Beethoven’s birth, please do spare fifty minutes to listen to this fascinating piece of music!

 

I am grateful to my partner Henry for introducing me to it (along with so many other pieces). His favourite recording is on the CBS Masterworks Portrait label – Eugene Ormandy conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra, but I cannot find that on YouTube but the link below includes Harnoncourt Conducting the Concertus Musicus Wien and another video showing the score. 


 



New Years Day 1945 

 

Researching the background to Beethoven's composition and reading the article by Fred Haight brought to mind this poem by Dietrich Bonhoeffer - written in one of his last surviving letters before his execution.

 

With every power for good to stay and guide me,
comforted and inspired beyond all fear,
I’ll live these days with you in thought beside me,
and pass, with you, into the coming year.

 

While all the powers of Good aid and attend us,
boldly we’ll face the future, be it what may.
At even, and at morn, God will befriend us,
and oh, most surely on each New Year’s Day

 

The old year still torments our hearts, unhastening:
the long days of our sorrow still endure.
Father, grant to the soul thou hast been chastening
that Thou hast promised—the healing and the cure.

 

Should it be ours to drain the cup of grieving
even to the dregs of pain, at thy command,
we will not falter, thankfully receiving
all that is given by thy loving hand.

 

But, should it be thy will once more to release us
to life’s enjoyment and its good sunshine,
that we’ve learned from sorrow shall increase us
and all our life be dedicate as thine.

 

To-day, let candles shed their radiant greeting:
lo, on our darkness are they not thy light,
leading us haply to our longed-for meeting?
Thou canst illumine e’en our darkest night.

 

When now the silence deepens for our harkening,
grant we may hear thy children’s voices raise
from all the unseen world around us darkening
their universal paean, in thy praise.

 

While all the powers of Good aid and attend us,
boldy we’ll face the future, be it what way.
At even, and at morn, God will befriend us,
And oh, most surely on each new year’s day!

 

 

Links 


Gethsemane, as Schiller would treat it – Fred Haight, The Schiller Institute

Programme Note by Lindsay Kemp for the LSO performance of Christ on the Mount of Olives, February 2020


Christ on the Mount of Olives – German/English Libretto

New Years Day 1945, a poem by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Image : Christ on the Mount of Olives by Giovanni

 

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