A Journey Through Loss and Suffering in the Life of J. S. Bach
By Terri Moon
How do we make beauty with our lives instead of getting pulled into despair by the difficulties and disappointments that threaten to overtake us? Sometimes an old friend can help show us the way when we’re struggling with these questions. One of my favorites is Johann Sebastian Bach, a musician born near the end of the 17th century. Let me invite you into a scene from his life.
As a young man of 23, Johann Sebastian had just embarked on a new post as the director of music at the court of a minor duke in Germany. He was also newly married. Very soon he would be the father of three young sons, and was already becoming known as an organist and composer. Within a few years, the young Bach was promoted to the position of kapellmeister at the court of Prince Leopold in Anhalt-Köthen and was regularly turning out compositions for the court orchestra in addition to works for organ and chamber ensembles.
In 1720, while Johann was accompanying the prince on a trip, he received word that his wife, Maria, had taken ill. He quickly began the long journey home. When he finally arrived, he learned Maria had died and was already buried in the churchyard. His three sons, aged 10, 6, and 5, were motherless. Bach knew what that felt like—he had lost his own mother at the tender age of 9.
Later that year Bach, a widower at 35, finished a set of compositions he had begun earlier, a collection of six sonatas and partitas for solo violin. Each has multiple movements and each is a masterpiece. Together the entire set represents a monumental work of art, stretching the solo violinist to new technical limits and embodying an amazing range of emotions—all with a single solo instrument.
The Ciaccona in Bach’s manuscript, circa 1721
As a violinist myself, it’s hard to describe the feeling that I have for this set of pieces. I have worked for years to learn the Sonatas and Partitas of Bach. I know that I will never plumb the depths of their beauty. They are sometimes called “the Bible for violinists.” One movement in particular, the famous Ciaccona, is a full 13 minutes long. It is the fifth and final movement of Partita No. 2, and is known as one of the most masterful and expressive works ever composed for solo violin. I am persuaded that this piece contains a cry from the depths of Bach’s heart, a prayer to the God of his life for answers and comfort.
Bach’s original, handwritten cover page
This Ciaccona, a stately dance, begins in the somber key of D minor. The mournful cry builds in complexity, requiring the single violin to become several voices engaged in a conversation. The music builds in intensity and grows more rhapsodic, an outpouring of emotional depth and virtuosity. Then, right in the middle, something happens. Quietly, comfortingly, a theme like a simple hymn begins, now in a major key. Building and growing, the hymn fills the air like a river flowing into an ocean. The river takes the listener by scenes that are playful, introspective, and powerful. It carries the soul back again to the original minor key and ends on a final single note.
The title that Bach wrote on the front page of the collection is the Italian phrase “Sei Solo,” which has a double meaning. “Sei” means “six” and “solo” designates that the music is intended for one instrument, a violin with no accompaniment. However, the word “solo” in Italian also means “you are alone.” Is this music—a timeless masterpiece—Bach’s response to the journey of his soul as he worked through the deepest questions of life?
All of this leads me to ponder how the struggles, losses, and questions of my own life might be redeemed by God to result in an offering of beauty. May it be so for every one of us.
MUSCIAN BIO
Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) was a German composer who is widely viewed as one of the most important figures in the history of classical music. His prolific output set a benchmark for nearly all musical forms and influenced every composer who came after him
TERRI’S PICK
Listen to my favorite performance of the Ciaconna from Partita No. 2, BWV 1004, played by Rachel Rodger on a baroque violin, an instrument made in 1739 and set up according to the specific custom of the time period.
Terri Moon is a classically trained violinist, performer, and teacher. She has served, with her husband, Steve, on the leadership team of the Anselm Society for over a decade. She also writes a seasonal column titled “Cultivating Songs of Faith” for Cultivating Magazine. Terri currently serves as the Minister of Music at Holy Trinity Anglican Church in Colorado Springs.
A NOTE TO READERS:
Why read about music? Why not just listen to it? While nothing can suffice but to experience a work of art (like a piece of music), we can orient ourselves to be ready to engage art. So, in this little corner of Anselm, we occasionally will be presenting to you reviews of a featured musician and his or her work. The ultimate goal, of course, is to enjoy what they bring to the renaissance of the Christian Imagination.
