Text No. 1
Jeremiah 17:9

Text No. 2–5
Christiane Mariana von Ziegler, 1728

Text No. 6
Paul Gerhardt, 1653

First performance
Trinity,
27 May 1725

In terms of its libretto, cantata BWV 176 initially seems an odd setting for Trinity Sunday. Yet the passages from the Gospel of John selected by librettist Christiane Mariane von Ziegler, Bach’s “poet of spring 1725”, indicate a considerable gap between the scene of Nicodemus’s secretive night visit to Jesus and the Saviour’s universal assurances, a disparity that echoes the strict division, typical for the Gospel of John, between followers of nascent Christianity and believers ascribing to the old Jewish faith. In this cantata, the contrast between the redeeming message of the Messiah and the fears of the Pharisee Nicodemus is, to an extent, removed from its biblical context and raised to a more general reflection on the human condition.

The gestural introductory chorus revels in the tension between “daring” uprising and “deceptive” retreat in a highly compact setting. In this choral fugue, strictly structured with successive entries from the lowest to highest voice, the woodwinds and continuo double the vocal parts, while the strings embellish the setting with a shimmering curtain of sound. The rigorously repeated dictum is characterised by constant motion, thus underscoring that the setting deals not only with an age-old story, but also the never-ending struggle in the human heart between spiritual strength and fearfulness – and thus ultimately between virtue and vice.

The ensuing alto recitative opens by explaining this troublesome “Verzagtheit” (deception) in context. Here, the fact that the noble Nicodemus only dares to visit Jesus at night is depicted as a departure from his Jewish faith – in contrast to Joshua from the Old Testament, who commanded the sun to keep shining to attain victory over the Amorites, Nicodemus longs for the cover of night. Here, it is interesting to note that it was none other than the librettist’s father, mayor Franz Conrad Romanus, who gave the citizens of Leipzig their first street lighting – 700 rapeseed oil lamps for Christmas in 1701 –and thus extended the day into the night, a fact that lends the lightdark metaphor of this cantata a charming biographical parallel.

The soprano aria “Dein sonst hell beliebter Schein” (Thy dear light, before so bright) comes across as a cheerful gavotte whose serpentine phrases presage the darkening words “Soll vor mich umnebelt sein” (must for me the clouds obscure). This line, addressed to the sun, captures the perspective of Nicodemus, whose admission of “Denn ich scheue mich bei Tage” (For by day I am too fearful) is marked by an odd gallantry that is perhaps suggestive of his high standing. In the middle section, by contrast, this timid follower is able to sing so convincingly of Jesus’ omnipotence and holy mission that the music, in a golden B major, is decidedly cheerful in character. The soloist is then notably silent in the da-capo, signifying that this development is irreversible – Nicodemus, at least in his heart, remains with Jesus.

In the next recitative, however, the figure who speaks might represent the fickle disciple: “So wundre dich, o Meister, nicht, warum ich dich bei Nacht ausfrage” (So marvel then, O Master, not, That I should thee at night be seeking!). And yet, the statement, sung in the sonorous bass register, is interpreted in the spirit of Bach’s time and, rather than expressing fear of discovery, emphasises the fear of being unworthy to stand in the light of day before Jesus. There is something of Nicodemus in all of us, and it is to the entire human race that the ensuing promise, drawn out in an extended andante arioso, is dedicated: “Weil alle, die nur an dich glauben, nicht verloren werden” (For all who have faith in thee only shall not be forsaken). With this paraphrase of John 3:16, this final cantata of the 1725 Ziegler mini-cycle emphasises the work’s ongoing relationship to John. Here, the good Lutheran promise of redemption through faith is celebrated in a calmly flowing tripletime setting that speaks of a life beset by trials and toil, but nonetheless borne by the word of Jesus.

Accordingly, the second aria, assigned to the alto, basks in this warm solace; the unison accompaniment of two oboes and an oboe da caccia is typical of the exquisite instrumentation the Thomascantor used in all nine of his Ziegler cantatas. The flowing dance style of this quasi minuet-sermon reflects the relaxed tone of the verse, while the Trinitarian E-flat major tonality and use of three accompanying instruments is symbolic of the praise of the Holy Trinity expressed in the text: “Werd ich dort oben mit Danken und Loben Vater, Sohn und heilgen Geist preisen, der dreieinig heisst” (Shall I in heaven with thanks and with praises, Father, Son and Holy Ghost honour the Three-in-One named). It is only now, towards the end of the cantata, that the cantata becomes a true celebration of Trinity Sunday!

The closing chorale employs the eighth verse of the powerful hymn “Was alle Weisheit in der Welt” (Paul Gerhardt, 1653) set to the melody of the well-known song “Christ, unser Herr, zum Jordan kam”. As such, the additional reference to the Trinity in the closing line of the text – “Ein Wesen, drei Personen” (One being, but three persons) – benefits from the high register and brilliant C major chord of the final line of Luther’s old christening hymn.