Portraying Christ in Music : Fully Human and Fully Divine

Gauguin as Christ in the Garden, 1889

A script of a joint talk given by Henry Lamprecht (my better half!) and me as part of a series on Music and Spirituality at Holy Sepulchre London (The National Musicians Church) on Wednesday 26th March 2025. We veered off script at several points. We were grateful to our friend Ben Schoeman for playing excerpts from Beethoven’s works on the piano.

PHILLIP : In this season of Lent we are called to grow in relationship with God – through the person of Jesus Christ. But who is Jesus?

In the first few centuries after his crucifixion, fierce debates about who Jesus was were commonplace – especially amongst his most loyal followers. This was a time when many conceived of the universe in a dualistic way – a heavenly sphere existing above the created order below. There were those who felt God would not demean himself by taking on human flesh – so if Jesus was divine, he must have only ‘appeared’ human. Others felt that the one true God could not be both Father and Son – and certainly could not have suffered and died on the cross. So Jesus must have been fully human but somehow appeared divine – a sort of model or example for how to live a righteous life – but could not be God himself.

The matter was settled 1700 years ago at the Council of Nicea, from which emerged the Nicene Creed – an important statement of Christian belief which affirms that Jesus was both fully human and fully divine.

But, I think it’s fair to say, musical depictions of Christ seemed to focus on Christ’s fullness in terms of his divinity rather than his humanity. Until Beethoven composed his only oratorio – Christ on the Mount of Olives.

HENRY : To illustrate our point, we need examine what came before and what personal crisis Beethoven faced to truly understand Beethoven’s manifestation of Jesus on the Mount of Olives. 

First I need to transport you back to 1742, to Brook Street in Mayfair. Handel had arrived in the early 1700s and built a very successful career in Italian opera. Our ancestors just couldn’t get enough of Italian opera and throughout the 1710s, 20s and 30s London sustained a number of opera houses. These houses had a competitive edge and the greatest castrati were imported from Italy.

The operas were based on classical tales such as Julius Caesar and every imaginable relationship between Roman, Greek and even Persian gods. Singers, musicians and composers became very wealthy and none more so than Handel. 

If you want to know more about this, do go visit the Handel museum at the Foundling Hospital in Bloomsbury. When Handel died in 1759 at the ripe old age of 74 he left behind and estate that today would run to hundreds of millions of pounds. His handwritten will with very interesting codicils is on display there as is a manuscript of the Messiah. 

But back to 1742… audiences are fickle and the fashion changed. The English had enough of incomprehensible Italian operas and the prima donna castrati. Opera seasons flopped and Handel had to reinvent himself. This he did by turning to a reinvention of an older form, the oratorio - a setting of a biblical text that follows roughly the same pattern as an opera but in English and with more use of a chorus commenting on the action. This proved to be a very popular form and some of those works, like the Messiah and Israel in Egypt became a staple of standard repertoire. It is astonishing to think that the Messiah has never been out of repertoire and Handel, 266 years after his death still plays the rent for many a musician at Easter and Christmas with performances of this great work. 

PHILLIP : The Messiah is obviously all about Jesus – but this work describes his words and actions using the choir singing as narrators. Jesus himself does not speak. In Bach’s Passions (of Matthew and John) which predate the Messiah Jesus is represented by a bass soloist – but the emotional (or human) effects of the passion are described through the impact on those around Jesus rather than by himself. This ‘distance’ emphasises Jesus’ divinity – but does it recognise the fullness of his humanity?

HENRY : Our next stop is 1791 when Haydn arrived in London. Haydn heard the Handel oratorios that were part of standard repertoire and it inspired him to write oratorios. First came The Creation; partly based on Milton’s Paradise Lost in 1798 and then in 1801 The Seasons, based on Scottish Poet James Thompson’s poems by the same name. Thompson coincidentally also wrote the words for Rule Britannia.  

The texts Haydn set were in German but they were immediately translated into English. The Creation in particular transformed Haydn into a bit of a super star and made him a very rich man. Vienna saw countless performances of The Creation and Beethoven is recorded to have been present at the first performance of the work in 1799. 

It is therefore not surprising that Beethoven turned his attention to an oratorio of his own. In 1802 Beethoven commissioned a libretto from the poet Fran’s Xavier Huber who would have been completely forgotten if it wasn’t for this work. Beethoven wrote Christ on the Mount of Olives in the summer of 1802 in the space of about two weeks which is very quick for him as he was generally a slow worker. 

But in to the work itself. Beethoven opens the oratorio with rather dramatic and very dark overture that leads into the first recitative. Here we find Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, not at his passion but in the emotional hours immediately preceding it and as we will see later, there is a very personal link for Beethoven here. 

PHILLIP : Christ on the Mount of Olives (Christus am Ölberge), as Henry said, 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 Heldentenor role (heroic tenor voice more closely associated with the works of Wagner these days.)

Since the Council of Nicea Christians have affirmed that Jesus is fully human and fully divine. Part of the controversy over "Christ on the Mount of Olives" was the way Beethoven portrayed Jesus with many criticising the work for emphasising his humanity.

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.

It is in the Garden of Gethsemane that Jesus accepts His fate: the inevitability of His own death, in order to fulfil His mission on earth. It was presented to Him in the form of a cup, from which He must drink. If He were only a God, there would have been no need to fear, but as a Man, it was terrifying.

Jesus did not want to die, and prayed three times: "O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." He looks around at his Apostles, and they have all fallen asleep. He realises that no-one else is going to do it, and says to God the Father: "nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt." (Matthew 26:39).

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. Some felt that portraying the human side of Jesus undermined his identity as "the Son of God." For Beethoven, Jesus was also the "Son of Man' as he called himself, and the human side of Him was often missed. In emphasising Jesus' identity as fully human, Beethoven is not in any way seeking to undermine His divinity. But in coming to know Jesus through his humanity we come closer to knowing his divine nature. We may know him in all his fullness.

To really understand what was going on in Beethoven’s mind while he was setting the text, we need to go to a very specific date and place. Heiligenstad, a settlement north of Vienna on 6 October 1802. Beethoven had been losing his hearing since about 1796 (the earliest reference to him complaining about a whistling noise in his ears).

As you can imagine, there is nothing worse than a musician losing their hearing and Beethoven wrote this testament to his brothers Johann and Carl and gives us an insight into his mindset at the time he wrote this work.

I quote for you from the testament:

I was compelled early to isolate myself, to live in loneliness, when I at times tried to forget all this, O how harshly was I repulsed by the doubly sad experience of my bad hearing, and yet it was impossible for me to say to men speak louder, shout, for I am deaf. Ah how could I possibly admit such an infirmity in the one sense which should have been more perfect in me than in others, a sense which I once possessed in highest perfection, a perfection such as few surely in my profession enjoy or have enjoyed… what a humiliation when one stood beside me and heard a flute in the distance and I heard nothing, or someone heard the shepherd singing and again I heard nothing, such incidents brought me to the verge of despair, but little more and I would have put an end to my life — only Art it was that withheld me, ah it seemed impossible to leave the world until I had produced all that I felt called upon me to produce, and so I endured this wretched existence — truly wretched, an excitable body which a sudden change can throw from the best into the worst state… Divine One thou lookest into my inmost soul, thou knowest it, thou knowest that love of man and desire to do good live therein… how glad will I be if I can still be helpful to you in my grave — with joy I hasten towards death — if it comes before I shall have had an opportunity to show all my artistic capacities it will still come too early for me despite my hard fate and I shall probably wish it had come later —

but even then I am satisfied, will it not free me from my state of endless suffering? Come when thou will I shall meet thee bravely. — Farewell and do not wholly forget me when I am dead

We now need to examine how Beethoven treats the text and how he depicts Jesus. The first thing to note is the key. Beethoven uses the key of c-minor. A key he used for some of his post dramatic works:

Ben played the opening of the Pathetique and Symphony 5, opening of Op111)

Jehovah, Thou my Father, as Thou hast power, give me strength to bear!

It is vital to observe that this theme that appears in the recitative appears 16 years later as the main theme in Op111. Is this Beethoven’s Heiligenstad prophecy? only Art it was that withheld me, ah it seemed impossible to leave the world until I had produced all that I felt called upon me to produce?

The rest of the recitative text is as follows. I suggest we listen to it now and pay attention to the word painting and dramatic setting of the deeply meaningful text that is identical in content to the Heiligenstad testament.

Now in this hour sorrowful is my grief.  I have glorified Thee.  Even before Thy command, from chaos the world was formed. The voices of Thy seraphs now thunder commanding him who dies for men alone to stand before Thy judgment seat.  O Father!  I will appear at his call, to intercede with Thee, to atone, I alone, for guilty man.  How can this feeble race, from dusted created, ever know the feeling that I, Thy only Son, must now endure?  Ah, see the pangs that throb my heart!  My soul is faint, my Father!  See how my heart does throb.  O pity me!

We now move on to the aria.

I read the text for you:

My soul is afflicted with torments which threaten me;
terror seizes me, and my whole frame trembles.
I shudder convulsively with fear of imminent death,
not sweat but blood drips from my brow. Father, your Son implores you, deeply bowed and wretched.
All things are possible to your omnipotence;
take this cup of sorrow from me! take this cup of sorrow from me! take this cup of sorrow from me! take this cup of sorrow from me!

Note that Beethoven repeats the text “take this cup of sorrow from me!” Four times, one more than the bible.

(Play music)

As you can hear, this is a terrified Jesus in mortal fear. He begs God his father almost hysterically to “take this cup of sorrow from me!”

This depiction is so vivid, so human that it led to the work being banned in 1825 from where it sank into relative obscurity. It’s only been over the past few years that conductors such as Kent Ngano, Nicholas Harnoncourt and Simon Rattle have been reviving it in the concert hall.

Unfortunately, there is no time to explore the rest if the work but if you are minded to explore it, do compare the aria of the Seraph’s aria with Mit Staunen sieht das Wunderwerk from The Creation with both arias containing frightening upward runs for the soprano and The "Welten singen..." finale chorus that has enjoyed some popularity on its own, usually being rendered as Beethoven’s Hallelujah and frequently performed by church, high school, and college choirs.

PHILLIP : Christ on the Mount of Olives is the product of Beethoven’s relationship with the person Christ through the lens of his own suffering. How many people have come to Christ in the same way? Through a period of sickness or illness either in their own lives or those of someone close to them? While the legacy of Beethoven’s approach can be detected in later works – Mendelssohn’s Christus, Stainer’s Crucifixion – none come as close (in our view) to depicting Christ as fully human and fully divine. This Lent as we continue on our journey to come to know Jesus, let us listen more attentively to the settings of the Passion and the other oratorios we hear and allow Christ to speak to us through the music, in all his fullness.