K. 42/35a, Grabmusik

Early apologies. For as refined as I may have pretended to be, I am still a troglodyte clinging to an ancient hope. I am not enlightened enough to adhere to the solely material. And, I ain't no hippy out to say every belief is equally valid. I get some may not like that. Sure, I'm out to explore Mozart's music, not preach. But, I'm tackling a religious work, so I will not be able to intellectually and honestly avoid a religious talk. Yet, for the sensibilities of those who may not care to hear the barbaric, I will comment on the music first.

Mozart grew up Catholic. It permeated his familial life. Leopold made major family decisions to ensure they lived in a Catholic region. (They could have had some good prospects had they taken employment in London. It worked for Handel and Haydn. But, alas...) So, of course, a young Mozart would have had composed music for mass. And, we come to another of many. 

K. 42, Grabmusik is his longest mass work at this place in the Köchel, I think. (Unless you count K. 35.) This work is a Passion. Or, it focuses on the suffering Christ went through when he bore the cross. Heavy themes to find the right music. I'm not sure young Mozart carried the emotional-evoking burden well. It is a work of four movements. The first is the most emotionally tone-deaf. (Ha. Ha. Look I'm calling Mozart tone-deaf.) I'm not saying, the music is no good. In fact, it is very nice. It has the same sound of many of his later operas. But, for a song speaking of the soul crushing guilt that Christ had to bear such torture for our sins, it is too jovial. The first movement is redeemed, however, around the 3.5 minute mark. This is actually the best bit of brooding, dark music that reflects real anguish from guilt. Unfortunately, it returns back to a rumpus frolic, with laughing included. 

The second movement holds sorrow. And yes, what fitting emotion to carry when singing of remembering Christ's death. But, the lyrics seem to call for more rumble. I mean... Boulders split... Sun, moon and stars take flight... Thunder! Flames and Lightning...? The third does well enough to reflect guilty sorrow. Sorrow that leads to repentance. And the last bit declares victory. Victory in the death of Christ. "Feed us with thy broken body, now in death's agony."

And, this is the faith that pressed itself upon Mozart. It stayed with him. He would have unlikely ever given it up. Mozart saw his faith as his identity. (Even though, this religion was not what he believed. When I dabble in his Freemason ventures, I'll elaborate more.) He grew up seeing Christ as the suffering servant--which he was. But, this suffering focused unduly on the physical. The triumphant stamp was Christ's death. His physical death. As a protestant, I stress the stamp of victory was his resurrection. There are plenty of Catholics who would say this is a valid point, but even then there is a theology (prevalent for Mozart) that emphasizes an idea of the physical suffering. 

Thus the physical, the material, dominated the Mozarts' fears. And, Mozart's fears, even those fears we might believe were spiritual. 

But I must say, Christ's physical torture was not the pinnacle of the Passion.

The night He was betrayed, Christ wept, trembling with fear for what was about to take place. To the point of sweating blood. I can hardly imagine not having the same fear. Yet, later, when many of the disciples were martyred, history speaks of the peace they had. Stephen celebrated he was going home. Peter picked a more gruesome death.  What? Did they have more courage than Christ? Some may say, 'They had the Holy Spirit.' But, in one sense, isn't Christ the living embodiment of the Holy Spirit. Equal in nature and in strength?

So, am I calling Christ a coward? Be no means! The physical suffering was nothing compared to what he was going to take upon himself. The wrath of God. (A hint of this comes from a sermon I heard. And I do not know all his references, so I apologies for lack of citation) Every forgiven sin, ever committed, Jesus absorbed that wrath. And, even though some believe they have bore guilt and fear, no one can truly know what that kind of wrath is like, but God alone. Christ, God in the flesh, knew what was coming. He fully and completely understood.

We can never know what it was like for Christ. In fact, we have an aversion to the idea that God would take our sins that seriously. In my own sinful flesh, I have a hard time accepting it. So, I'm sure someone who has gotten this far is gnashing his or her teeth because of how 'barbaric' I sound. I'm not trying to offend. But... Everyone can agree that there are, and have been, horrible individuals that were flippantly callous about their actions. Do you think Hitler felt sorry about what he had done? And, in the small odds that he had, would the hint of guilt he could conjure ever be enough?

I know. I know. This is difficult stuff to wrestle with. But, our physical fears are the only fears we can somewhat understand. Thus, they dominate our lives. As with Mozart. And, even the times we wrestle with the spiritual, how do we determine legitimate fears when we have primarily physical experiences? 

Ultimately, there are two types of people: Those who do not fear the wrath of God. And, those who do not need to fear the wrath of God. The former do not believe their actions render such consequences. (They may be right.) And, those who do not need to fear the wrath of God. This could be because He doesn't exist. OR... Or, because one has let Christ bear the punishment for the sins we have committed. Let Christ bear a wrath we cannot fully comprehend. And, let Christ bear a wrath we will never have to.

A troglodyte, as I, strives not to let either physical or spiritual fears dominate my life. I do what I can to cling to a confidence in Christ and his actions. Yet, like just as Mozart's music sings, I fail...

Zaide K. 344, O selige wonne

I am not trying to be necessarily religious with this post (I am not trying to avoid it either). But, O selige wonne lends itself to such. So, I must start out by saying that our faith determines our actions. It goads our efforts. It ignites our moods.

What is faith? What do I mean by that? The Bible in the book of Hebrews defines it as such: “Being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” (11:1)  Even if you are not religious this definition is perfect.

No one knows what the future holds, but we have certain hopes for it. And, these hopes guide our life. The more certainty we have in our hopes, the more influence they have over our decision making. In turn those hopes turn into faith. I do not know for sure tomorrow will come, but I’m pretty confident it will. I have faith I will see tomorrow. Consequently, I know it would not be wise for me to blow all my money tonight (or my wife’s money, that is). Vice versa, little confidence in certain hopes can not be considered faith.  I may ‘hope’ to win the lottery, so in turn I might buy ticket. However, if losing the lottery meant I was to lose my life, I will not by one.

So, faith is stronger. And in spite of what people proclaim, faith is based on something. It is not blind. (One can argue the credibility of the source material.) And, we humans are constantly interpreting experiences, signs and feelings, to the point where we grow angry, bitter and/or violent toward anyone who tells us we are wrong.

Whatever we believe, our faith determines our actions. Faith in sacred texts and traditions. Faith in the material. Faith in our experiences. Faith in ourselves. Or Faith in love. These are the sources by which we gain any hint of certainty in the chaotic world. Yet, at times don’t even our strongest beliefs waiver between an invisible spectrum of hope and faith. When it shifts toward the less certain, it loses it affect.

And thus, I come to the trio O selige wonne. Zaide and Gomatz took a giant step of faith. With Allazim at their side, they make their escape from the tyranny of the sultan. In the midst of fleeing, the three are interpreting the signs of their escape. The tone starts out hopeful (notice I did not say faithful). They all know what they want. What they hope for. And at first the signs confirm their actions were right. The rising sun, the rainbow, the fluffy hippy feelings.

Then, as if the horse you have been walking beside drops its ears back, takes off a kicks you in the thigh (personal experience), the music shifts. Zaide’s voice cries out filled with terror. “Look, a bloody comet.” “Listen, thunder!”

Allazim and Gomatz respond, “God will protect us.” Their voices do nothing to reassure Zaide. She is filled with fear for the remainder of the trio. Even in the more hopeful place, fear still shakes her voice. Did she ‘lose’ faith? We can quibble over all kinds of terms, but I would say that she didn’t. Her faith shifted. At that point, no one knew what was going to happen. (No one knows the future.) She was now certain doom loomed.

Was she right? Did she interpret the signs in a credible way? That’s is the hard question. And not knowing how the opera ends, we ourselves can never know. In the short run, yes, she was right. The three are captured. But, is there a bigger picture?  And, if so how big?

So often we base our faith on consequences, but is there a point where our faith can guide us regardless of the consequences? Even the most religious, make decisions with some set of eternal consequence in mind. I don’t know if it is really possible to not have some sort of outcome expectations.. The purely material humanist might sacrifice his or her life in order that the world may one day be a better place, but the action is still outcome based.

Zaide’s immediate rightness in her fears ultimately did nothing to change her outcome. Maybe, that is why so many try not to think about what’s to come. They have the mentality of the slaves in the cantor. “You can’t do anything about it, so we may as well be happy.” That isn’t good enough for Zaide. That is good enough for many. Hence her key revelation in Trostlos schluchet philomele, “Who can punish her when she finds what she is looking for.”

Ultimately, isn’t that the pinnacle of faith, the point when we have found that ‘thing’ (horrible word, but nothing is as all-encompassing) that no one can take away from us. I think Mozart desperately wanted that. Some say it is a passion. Others think it is a principle. Other say it’s a legacy. And still others believe it is the supernatural.

I believe Mozart thought love was that ‘thing.’ I can’t say he was wrong, but that’s a term with a myriad definitions. I mean  ‘what is love?’ (Stop bobbing your head.) Is love sacrificing whatever it takes to offer a beloved that one ‘thing’ that can never be taken away? Offering it, even though he or she may reject it?

???

Personally, (I am not trying to be preachy, just honest) I have only witnessed/experience/heard about such a love via Jesus Christ’s death on the cross. But, I’m troglodyte, so of course I would cling to such a hope.