Wherein the author offers to the reader some counterpoint to the artistic argument for religious faith and the prevailing mythology of Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750).
A common defence of religious faith is framed in terms of the great works of art that it inspires: What life without the architecture of Gothic cathedrals, the paintings of Michelangelo or the glory of sacred choral music? Without religious inspiration we would surely be condemned to a cultural vacuum – a paltry existence listening to Sigue Sigue Sputnik’s oeuvre, admiring card-playing dog triptychs, and inhabiting variously-sized cardboard boxes. Artistic inspiration is a huge topic beyond this humble post’s scope, but let’s broach the question by looking at a prime example of this argument, Baroque master Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) - a composer so great that when it was suggested that his music be included on the Voyager 1 space probe as evidence to alien life-forms of human intelligence, a colleague of Carl Sagan allegedly objected - “that would just be showing off”.
J.S. Bach was a devout Christian, and his music is often seen as inspired by his faith, as a Christian website eagerly claims:
[Bach’s] Music was given to glorify God in heaven […] It wasn't to make lots of money, or to feed the musician's ego, or to be famous. Music was about blessing the Lord.
Indeed, Bach was embedded deeply in the Lutheran school: the ethos that music is a preaching tool, every turn of phrase composed to beguile the listener back to the worship of God, so what better place to look for clear evidence of divine artistic servitude than to the work of this master?
Firstly it must be noted that this discussion says absolutely nothing of the existence or non-existence of God(s). They’re just too many possible scenarios for any conclusion to be reached. It could be, for example, that:
Belief in God (regardless of existence) inspires greater works than disbelief – or not.
God exists and grants musical inspiration irrespective of the recipient’s belief.
God grants musical inspiration but only in the style of Kenny Loggins.
And so on, ad nauseum.
So God’s(s’) existence aside, does religious faith and servitude increase the quality and quantity of compositional output? Does a comparison of Bach’s sacred and secular work support this position? Was Bach’s sole artistic motivation not financial - or for fame - but “for the Glory of God”? Our Christian website is unequivocal:
Bach's own life was in complete accord with his beliefs. Though he possessed a musical genius […] he chose to live an obscure life as a church musician. Only once […] did he actually take a job where his brilliance might bring him to the world's notice […] at the court of Prince Leopold. But such surroundings were a distraction […] He soon left to accept a lowly position as cantor at a church in Leipzig, where he would again be cloistered in his unacclaimed [sic] but beloved world of church music.
Bach produced a stupendous output that would make Tim Minchin feel like a complete slacker, but this myth of God’s humble servant escaping the temptations of career and fortune is, as we’ll see, on the completely fabricated side of simplistic. Let’s examine the evidence so we might form a more nuanced and accurate picture.
God-given talent?
A ‘God-given’ talent is a common, but unsophisticated, concept. Clearly whatever impressive musical faculties with which Bach was born (or received through faith) still needed development with a ferocious amount of impassioned study. Bach walked great distances to hear music, and spent countless nights transcribing Vivaldi scores by candlelight. This latter practice may well have exacerbated his later blindness – an affliction from which he was not spared despite his faith – and a quack doctor’s intervention led to septicaemia and his death. Incidentally his cataracts would now be routinely resolved with a 30-minute operation, no faith required.
Even if Bach had been given something above his unblessed peers, he certainly didn’t say as much to his students “Just practise diligently […] you have five fingers on each hand just as healthy as mine.” It seems Bach used his bestowed talents, and fingers, but like most great artists, worked extremely hard to hone his skill. But this diligence was all for God wasn’t it?
God is my patron (or vice versa).
So did Bach eschew - in all but one unsatisfying occasion - any fame, fortune or patronage in favour of service to God? Well, let’s look at the facts:
In 1707, the 22-year old accepted a job as organist in Mülhausen but - due to the lack of freedom or support for his developing style - he only gave a year’s service to the church, quickly accepting the job of court organist and concertmaster for the Duke of Saxe-Weimar. Again, dissatisfied with his career progress, he escaped the rule of the cantankerous Duke and, after enduring imprisonment, accepted a position of cappellmeister with Prince Leopold at Cöthen. This well-supported post was held for a hugely productive six years, creating mainly instrumental music (for music’s, rather than a church’s sake) and would alone have cemented Bach’s place in the history books. But was he miserable not writing his “beloved” church music? Not one bit. Bach would recount that this was the happiest period of his life and he “hoped to remain in his service to the end of his life” He apparently left due to the lack of musical interest of Leopold’s new wife, and unsatisfactory university facilities for his growing sons.
Okay, but was he happy at his “beloved” Liepzig? Not at all. Bach issued repeated complaints about provision of musicians, pay, creative freedom, over-work – it was, in his words: “almost constant vexation, envy, and harassment”. He also made several bids for other jobs, and even after 24 years graft, composed a brilliant ‘Musical Offering’ to King Frederik of Prussia (an atheist, incidentally) in hope for a more favourable position. To understand part of Bach’s motivations it seems - in the words of my Internet adversaries, we should ‘follow the money’ (and artistic support).
Okay, that said- surely a genius inspired by God writing music in His service would have endless inspiration?
My cantatas are bottomless.
Bach’s workload at Leipzig was enormous: A cantata a week and a gruelling teaching and performing schedule. Bach struggled. He tackled this workload with heroic spurts of composition, and then recycling material to meet the merciless deadlines. It’s also clear that the huge energy spent on church music that Bach produced in his Leipzig years, with only a few exceptions, were written as commissions, homages to influential people and career-canny bids for better placements.
Okay, so appointments aside, perhaps it’s within the music that we’ll find the clearest evidence of Bach’s utter devotion?
Notes to God.
Bach’s supreme technical prowess was in the compositions of fugues – musical forms that involve the ingenious superimposition of multiple melodies. This expert counterpoint of musical material was also evident in his use of hidden codes - a particular pleasure of Bach. (Don’t tell Dan Brown) And what do we find? Sure we have numerological references to the ‘ten’ commandments, but also variations on the theme of an atheist, a ‘Coffee Cantata’, tributes to his wife, Escherian retrogrades and musical games, an inscription possibly hinting at a tuning system and - most notably - Bach’s own name melodicised. (B-A-C-H is B-flat, A, C and B-natural in the German notational system) The references are not exclusively dedications to God, but also to mathematics, people, and all the other stuff of humanity.
The Divine vs. the Emergent.
The view of music as a blessing - an immutable ideal - is in my opinion, weak and unconvincing. Music exists in a complex interplay of culture, musical language, mathematics, physics, and the manipulation of both the intellectual and visceral parts of our minds. The interaction of rhythms, melodies, timbres and dissonances toy with our faculties engendering a gamut of emotions from surprise, humour, sorrow, love, passion to joy.
But what’s truly fascinating is that music’s effectiveness is born from the interaction of simple, describable components: It is reducibly complex at various levels: the superimposition of multiple melodies, the layering of rhythms, a stream of 1s and 0s or the choreography of molecules in the air.
This emergent property of music is profoundly and unintentionally illustrated in Bach’s final work. The Art of the Fugue –focuses on the technical craft of the fugal form. Bach wrote fugues by extending each musical line forward and filling in the other parts underneath. These were dictated, in Bach’s blindness, to his son and the final Contrapunctus is unfinished, petering out after an embedded B-A-C-H motif in the countermelody. When performed, we hear the musical parts drop away, his personalised motif and then one final line ending abruptly in profound silence. Music unravelled.
I have been careful here to be fair to the prevailing viewpoint. Bach was very devout and credited God for his work, and this should not be ignored. However, his gratitude and diffidence must be examined: humility, contemporaneous framing of ‘art’ and patronage all can obfuscate the issue. And if someone doesn’t point out the facts then credit tends to be misappropriated, a simplistic myth is created that conveniently ignores the struggles, ambitions and humanity of a hard-working genius in service to an ideological agenda.
Would Bach have created such brilliant works without his religious faith – or indeed if his faith was devoted to a different church, denomination, branch of Christianity, monotheism or polytheism? It’s impossible to say, but what is evident is that Bach’s work was equally excellent regardless of patronage or subject matter, and it was the pursuit of the artistic excellence in his craft, irrespective of its nominal dedication, that drove his career choices and diligent work.
And, after all, it’s only fair that credit should go where it’s due - Just So Bach’s Art’s Considered Honestly.
Recommended further reading:
Bettmann, O. (1995) Johann Sebastian Bach: As His World Knew Him. Birch Lane Press: New York.
Hofstadter, D. (1979) Godël, Escher and Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid. Basic Books: USA.
Spotify Playlist: An Introduction to J.S.Bach
Son of a CERN nuclear physicist, Milton was raised with wide artistic and scientific influences, an eclecticism that remains with him today. He has a BSc from the London School of Economics, a BMus (Berklee College of Music) and a PhD in music (University of Surrey), and holds commendations for his education and charity work. Milton now lives in London (UK) where he enjoys teaching, performing, composing, producing and writing about music. To learn more please visit miltonline.wordpress.com