Fürchte dich nicht

Dear Ladies and Gentlemen

dear musicians, technicians and those involved in the organisation, dear Bach community,

This is not the first time I have heard this motet, the motet “Fürchte dich nicht”.

That is not surprising. After all, I had to prepare my reflection for tonight. Nevertheless, it almost seems to me right now as if I am hearing the “Fürchte dich nicht” again for the first time today. Probably because the music simply touches me. Because it triggers something in me. And for me it also shows the universality, the timelessness, yes, the power that is in this motet.

Allowing oneself to be touched again and again. To perceive this spark of “as if for the first time”. I believe it is worthwhile to let this spark of “as if for the first time” arise, to look for it – in music, in people, in communities.

I have therefore decided not to provide you, dear audience, with an abstractly polished reflection today. Instead, I want to take you with me: To the “Zum ersten Mal” motet “Füchte dich nicht” for me. And I want to take you with me on the paths of thought that followed.

First of all, I would like to say that I love listening to classical music. I regularly go to the opera in Stuttgart. Reflections on various topics also occur very regularly in my everyday life as a politician, especially as President of the State Parliament. Politics always concerns the entire coexistence in a society. Of course, the topics are diverse. But both together, reflection of a piece of classical music – that is a first for me. So it is also a “first time” in that respect.

So a few weeks ago, in the evening after a plenary session, I sat down in my office and called up YouTube. I admit I was a bit tired that day. The debates in Parliament had been intense, sometimes heated, even the odd verbal border-crossing had unfortunately taken place. On my secretary’s desk was a tasteless hate letter for me. (I’ll spare you the wording).

In a nutshell: I was happy to retire to my office and have a few minutes to myself. So I called up Youtube, typed in: “Bach Motette BWV 228”. I already had the documents in my hand, which I wanted to look through in the meantime. But I didn’t get around to it at all.

The music, the voices, captivated me from the first moment.

Do not be afraid.

Don’t move.

What energy!

What power!

In these two sentence fragments alone!

I continued to listen and then wrote down the first thing that came to my mind.

These were the four adjectives: urgent, demanding, stirring, convincing.

I was wide awake again. I picked up the lyrics and played the piece again from the beginning. Again, that energy.

The second time, I didn’t just listen with my heart. My head joined in.

Do not be afraid!

Do not retreat!

It sounded like a mandate to me.

I thought of liberal democracy and the threats it faces. In Germany. In Europe. Threats like growing anti-Semitism. Right-wing extremist violence. Political murders. Just think of the recent, fortunately failed attack on the synagogue in eastern Germany. In which, unfortunately, two people nevertheless lost their lives. Or the right-wing extremist murder of the CDU politician Walter Lübke in south-west Germany this summer.

And there are also the somewhat more subtle threats to democracy, such as hatred and incitement on the streets and in digital networks. And the most worrying thing from my point of view: the shift in consensus. Or to put it another way: What can be said, what can be thought, is moving to the right, towards misanthropy, away from the principle of inviolable human dignity. Racism and discrimination are seeping into the language games of public opinion.

Do not be afraid!

Do not retreat!

I heard a mandate to democrats.

I heard an order very personally to myself.

Musically, I find it very interesting that Bach, in my opinion, also depicted this commission with the two choirs: The higher soprano, alto and tenor voices seem like fear itself – anxious, frightened, fearful. The lower bass voices, on the other hand, form a foundation, radiate confidence in their stability, trust, serenity.

Both levels together create for me, right at the beginning of the motet, this urgent, demanding mission. And then – what a relief! – into these wonderful lines “I strengthen you”, “I also help you”. After the commission comes the offer:

I strengthen you.

I help you.

Similar to Greek mythology. You may be familiar with the archetypal hero’s journey, which forms the basic pattern of many myths and also of many stories today. In it, the hero – and today, fortunately, also the heroine – first receives the call of adventure. Those who follow the call receive support from mentors, gods or magic. After the mission comes the offer.

Musically, I noticed that out of the 8-voice choir, a single voice initially leads the way. A first, single “Ich stärke dich” before the other voices join in. Perhaps this first, clear voice means one’s own inner voice, which needs to be heard in the face of fear. One’s own inner voice. Perhaps also the voice of God. Or the voice of a good friend who says, “Hey, you can do it!” “I support you!” “Keep going!”

As if, in the face of a threat, we must first gain our own sovereignty and then receive support and help from the chorus of voices around us.

I am thinking of the countless people who, especially in these times, are committed to our liberal democracy, to an open society, to living together in tolerance and diversity. Who take a stand at the workplace, in the neighbourhood, in the club or in the community centre: against exclusion, against racism, against discrimination.

From the urgent, demanding mission: Defend our free democracy!

 Do not deviate!

To the rousing, convincing offer: We join in! We support you!

I strengthen you!

What I particularly like about this motet is that the musical structure is very complex. Nevertheless, the individual voices complement each other. There would definitely be something missing if there were one voice less. At the same time, no voice is too dominant. No voice drowns out the other voices. For me, this is the ideal of our parliamentary democracy: every voice is heard. And our task is to find a consensus.

In this way, we compose a policy that expresses what a society wants and that bundles the voices of society: to live together freely and fairly for all.

Bach Hören is thus a wonderful reminder for us, of the ideal of democracy, of the interplay in a society, of the musical in a community.

At the same time, the text of the motto “Fürchte dich nicht” puts the individual, the single person in the centre. And thus creates an expression of the dialectic between the individual and society. The line “Ich habe dich bei deinem namen gerufen” makes this very clear.

Being called by one’s own name is something very personal. I, human being, am recognised, I am named, I am called, I am allowed to be with my very own, unique identity. I, the human being, am the relevant reference point in democracy as well.

The state protects my basic rights. It grants me rights of freedom such as freedom of religion and freedom of opinion. It guarantees me equality rights such as equal treatment before the law. It grants me rights to benefits, such as the right to petition.

And in a democracy, we are entitled to these basic rights simply because we are human beings. We should decide for ourselves how we live and what we think. We are not a “uniform mass”, we are not a “body of people”, we are not a “dehumanised system” as right-wing populist views suggest.

We are unique, very different and diverse. And both are reflected in the protection of fundamental rights: the individual with his/her inviolable dignity. And human coexistence in the basic rules to which we adhere.

Incidentally, this is also where politics and religion meet: the motive is the human being. This motive must always resonate. We must listen to this motive, even when slogans become loud, when images of the enemy frighten us, when the “us against them” swells in us and around us.

“Ich habe dich bei deinem Namen gerufen.”

Bach’s motif is also the individual human being.

Ladies and gentlemen,

This evening, when I heard the “Fürchte dich nicht” for the first time, will certainly remain in my memory. The music gave me courage, gave me confidence.

We, you and I, are about to hear the motet for the second time. And I want to make a suggestion to you about it:

Let us look for the spark of “like the first time”. Now while listening to the motet. And fundamentally as individuals in our social interaction, as citizens of our liberal democracy.

Let us break open the certainties, the self-evident things, the entrenched things.

And let us look with new eyes – as if for the first time – at democracy

– at our rights and at our freedom.