by Michael Marissen. London: Oxford University Press, 2016. 288 pp. $31.66.
Bach and God, a book with an intriguingly striking title, is written by Michael Marissen, scholar, professor, and now freelance writer. With a Ph.D. from Brandeis University, Marissen regularly lectures about his books, which focus primarily on music and religion. A recurring theme in his writing is how Christianity (according to his view) has negatively affected great musical works, as is evidenced by the title of another one of his books, Tainted Glory in Handel’s Messiah: The Unsettling History of the World’s Most Beloved Choral Work (2014).
In Bach and God, Marissen argues that Bach’s music has a “dark” underlying Lutheran message apart from the text. He states that the music goes “beyond setting the words in an aesthetically satisfying manner”—it places a “Lutheran spin” on the text itself (xii). This “spin,” he asserts, includes Luther’s strong anti-Jewish sentiments. For those who are “devotionally minded,” Marissen warns that he sets out to prove Bach’s music as being far from “ecumenical,” as he maintains it alienates both Jew and Catholic alike. He claims that most Christians “sweep under the rug” the “darker content and contexts” of Bach’s music (xvi).
The six chapters of the book are a collection of previously published articles that comprised his research on how Bach’s religion influenced his music. Marissen, a self-proclaimed agnostic, is at once drawn by Bach’s music and seemingly offended by its message. He sees its Christian perspective of rejecting Judaism as an ethical and moral “problem,” that is found not only in Bach’s music, but in the religious texts from which it is ultimately drawn, namely, Scripture itself. Marissen states that his only purpose in studying the religion behind the man is to understand the music—music that he acknowledges was written to honor God, yet nevertheless contains what he considers “negative” aspects in both Bach “and his Lutheranism” (xv).
Marissen’s research is thorough and methodical, citing Bach’s personal library, including notes in his German Bible and commentaries. Marissen keenly recognizes patterns that emerge in Bach’s music, such as his choice of tonality, choral settings, and his finesse in composing fugal instrumental works. For example, Bach’s scoring of the duet aria Wer nur den lieben Gott läßt walten in Cantata 93 displays an unexpected reversal of parts—the voices take on the instrument-like counterpoint, while the strings “sing” the haunting chorale melody below. This reversal is utilized to project the mundis inversus—an inverted world that is fallen and whose only hope for setting it aright is salvation through Christ.
Another example of how Marissen is acutely aware of Bach’s religious sentiments in his music is understanding how Bach uses what are typically considered “secular art” works as a means of Christian testimony. A case in point is Bach’s Musical Offering, an instrumental work dedicated to Frederick the Great of Prussia. Marissen writes that “far from elevating” Frederick, or giving him honor, “the Musical Offering promotes a biblical-Lutheran understanding of glory,” which he adds, “one that Frederick cannot have found sympathetic.” Especially, as Marissen notes, since Frederick had a strong dislike for any music that “smells of the church.” After weighing the musical evidence, Marissen matter-of-factly concludes: “This music is an homage to God” (194).
In Part Two of his book, Marissen highlights what he considers to be anti-Judaism in several of Bach’s cantatas. He cites a “sharp value judgement” in Reformation art in general and a juxtaposition not only of “law and grace,” but also of the “historical failings of an old Israel under the law” and the “triumphs” for a “new Israel grounded in faith through God’s grace” (66). The “new” Israel is depicted as the Church, which has replaced the old. In other words, he maintains that according to this position any Jew who chooses to stay unconverted to Christianity is viewed as spiritually inferior.
From the outset, Marissen unabashedly makes the following statement: “I claim that Bach’s musical setting of Cantata 46 projects a theological anti-Judaism” (67). He also discloses that chapter three of his book is a response to a “highly emotional” and in his view, “alarmingly ill-informed 1998 academic conference,” at which some claimed that Bach’s Cantata 46 did not contain anti-Jewish sentiment (67). Marissen explicitly states: “I do not agree with those col- leagues of mine from the 1998 conference who claim that so long as one does not exclude Luther’s possibility of Jewish persons’ converting to Christ as late as at the Second Coming of Jesus, there can be no real problem or even instance of anti-Judaism” (69).
Accordingly, Marissen moves from disagreeing with the conference colleagues to disagreeing with the Gospel of John. He cites that Bach’s Cantata 68 “closes with a grim setting” of John 3:18: “Whoever believes in him [in Jesus], he will not be condemned; but whoever does not believe, he is already condemned; for he does not believe in the name of the only begotten Son of God” (126). The “anti-Jewish sentiment,” Marissen states, “is right there in the biblical text” (127). Marissen’s real argument then is not just with Bach and Luther, but with Christ himself.
What Marissen fails to see is that any true love for God will inherently produce a hate for sin. This is not to be confused with a hate for the sinner. Yet Marissen equates the rejection of Judaism with a rejection of the Jewish people. This is a common error today in which culture is confused with ethnicity. He disagreed with his colleagues because he insists Jews should be able to come to God on their own terms without Christ. As for some of Luther’s admittedly harsh writings denouncing Jews (that may or may not have directly influenced Bach), one cannot simply point to one man’s blindsightedness or even a nation’s error as a reason to reject the Chris- tian message.
While controversial, Bach and God offers the discerning Christian insight into probing questions. Serious musicians can also glean from the meticulous scholarly research of both musical and biblical sources. However, the conclusions drawn from it are thwarted by the author’s own bias against music that “smells of the church.” Marissen loves the music but rejects the message. Though Marissen remains an agnostic, “thanks to Bach,” he poignantly admits, “I will probably never be a comfortable agnostic” (emphasis original, xv).
