Being Jesus

THE LIFE OF ROGER: Wellington bass singer Roger Wilson (the top guy) has been cast as Jesus in the Gisborne Choral Society’s upcoming performance of Bach’s St John Passion. Picture by Mark Peters

“The funny thing is, Jesus doesn’t have much to do,” says Wellington bass singer Roger Wilson of his part in the Gisborne Choral Society’s upcoming production of Bach’s St John Passion.

The oratorio is lifted from John’s account of Jesus’s journey to the Cross, told by the Evangelist, a kind of narrator. Soloists sing arias (pieces for one voice) and chorales (hymn-like tunes) that fit between the dramatic action. Despite Wilson’s disclaimer, Jesus is ever-present in the story that begins with his arrest by temple guards in the garden of Gethsemane and ends with his interment. The chorus does the heavy lifting while other soloists — soprano, contralto, tenor and bass — take flight on the wings of glorious arias. Throughout the work Jesus is consistently the otherworldly good guy, but the chorus takes the part of various collective voices, sometimes worshipful, sometimes a braying rabble.

Multilayered workA startling, dissonant opening sets the tone for the composition as the chorus praises Jesus, and foreshadows his destiny (“Even in the greatest humiliation/ Have become transfigured!”). The Evangelist outlines the impending arrest in the garden.

“The story is carried by the Evangelist,” says Wilson.

“It’s recitative. Pilate has a bit to say, and Peter, and a couple of maids, and it gets very reflective in the chorale. When those two chorales pop up they’re like hymns. You’re telling the congregation the story. It’s hugely multilayered. After I’m crucified I still pop up and say nice things about myself.”

During a brief exchange between the chorus and Evangelist the chorus takes the part of torch and weapon-bearing high priests’ servants, then becomes the worshipful voice of the people again.

When Jesus outlines how he has freely talked he is struck by a servant. He is baffled — as is the collective voice in the chorale — but taken away.

Part 2 involves the trial and the chorus as a braying mob.

“If this man were not an evil-doer, we wouldn’t have turned Him over to you,” sing the chorus.

Pilate, the Roman prefect of Judaea, finds no fault in Jesus and after a brief exchange with him hands the responsibility for his fate to the chorus. The chorus brays for Barabbas, a rebel held by the Roman governor. When the soldiers set a crown of thorns upon Jesus’s head the chorus turns into even more of a rabble.

“Hail to you, dear King of the Jews!” they sneer.

“And gave him blows on the cheek”, says the Evangelist.

The story goes downhill from here for Christ.

Hell breaks looseFrom 5th century AD, performances of the passions (St John’s and St Matthew’s) evolved from recitations or chants by a single priest to a sense of drama between various players, writes Paul Kilbey in the The Bach Passions: An Introduction.

“By Bach’s time, the passion setting had morphed into a dramatic form with much in common with the oratorio,” says Wilson.

“It’s a real theatrical piece. You have that yowling crowd baying for blood. All hell breaks loose. The graunching chorus and cries of pain like the beast of the jungle crouching to spring. The tension is fantastic, it’s relentless.

“Regardless of what you believe, you believe like hell when you’re there. There’s never a dull moment but there are tranquil moments. I have one moment that is very reflective. It’s a moment of wonderful, wonderful calm. It’s a tremendous combination of these things.”