Psalmenproject

 

   

Hofmann, Andrea

Psalmenrezeption in reformatorischem Liedgut. Entstehung, Gestalt und konfessionelle Eigenarten des Psalmliedes, 1523–1650. [Arbeiten zur Kirchen- und Theologiegeschichte 45]

Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, Leipzig 2017². 341 pp. ISBN 9783374040650. € 68,00

The book under review surveys the reception history of the Psalm songs published in the German-speaking regions of Europe between 1523 and 1650. It is a lightly revised edition of a theological dissertation. The author is well-versed both in the history of German Psalters and in the theological, sociological and liturgical discussions that surround this topic. The Forschungsbericht (pp. 14-29) is concise but covers the field. The book’s focus is essentially theological: The author wants to assess the roles that Psalm songs played in the age of Confessionalization, the period of growing tensions between the emerging Lutheran and Calvinist churches.

The history of German Psalm songs starts in 1523 when Luther launched an appeal to his theologically trusted and literary gifted friends to join forces and make German versifications of biblical Psalms. Luther’s first aim was devotional and educational, but liturgical use was already in his thoughts. He included an example of what he had in mind, and deliberately or not, this set the standard model of what was to follow. Generally, scholars believe Luther’s example was Psalm 130: Aus tiefer Not schrei ich zu dir. The suggestion is based on Luthers reference to the Penitential Psalms. According to German Psalm songs, published afterwards, the response rate of his appeal was quite low.

·         Psalm 51, Erbarm dich mein, o Herre Gott (Erhart Hegenwalt). This is curious, since in the Letter to Spalatinus, Luther clearly suggests he had taken an option on this Psalm himself.

·         Psalm 124, Wo Gott der Herr nicht bei uns hält (Justus Jonas). Jonas, a close collaborator of Luther, did not so much translate this Psalm, but wrote a battle cry, based on literary motifs from this psalm. In later hymnbooks it is often replaced by a translation of Luther himself: Wär Gott nicht mit uns diese Zeit.

 

Luther versified six Psalms: 12, 14, 67, 124, 128, 130. Ein feste Burg is from a later date and hardly qualifies as a translation of Ps. 46. These Psalm versifications were printed, first on broadsheets, then collected, and within a year the Lutheran hymnal was born: Ein Enchiridion oder Handbüchlein (Erfurt 1524), containing 26 spiritual songs, of which 18 by Luther. Polyphonic settings by Johann Walter appeared in print almost simultaneously: Das Geistliche Gesangbuchlein. From then on, it is clear that spiritual songs in the vernacular, including Psalms, were going to be a substantial part of what Andrew Pettegree has called ‘Brand Luther’.

The next crucial moment in this story is the completion of the French Psalter in 1562, the book event of the year in North-Western Europe. This Psalter was translated into German (three times, most notably by Ambrosius Lobwasser, 1573), and triggered new versifications, many of which testify to the growing tension between Lutherans and Calvinists. Lutheran theologians accused Calvinists of dangerously diminishing the Christological importance of the Psalms. In the last decade of the sixteenth century this theological antagonism culminated in a frontal attack on Calvinism in general by Ægidius Hunnius, Professor of Theology in Wittenberg: Calvinus Judaizans (Wittenberg, 1593).[1] In this work Hunnius claimed that Calvin in his exegesis ‘judaizes’, pays too much attention to the historical Jewish context, and thus undermines the scriptural foundation of key doctrines of the Church (Trinity, Divinity of Christ). This hermeneutical difference became one of the main identity markers in the Age of Confessionalisation. Sociologists know well that songs foster identity formation. Psalm songs, therefore, became an instrument and a weapon in the confessional battle, each party singing from its own hymnal. But – and this is one of the main findings of the present study – Psalm versifiers cannot simply be put in one camp or another. Although the Psalm songs and their melodies indeed served to strengthen confessional identities, there was mutual influencing and respect as well. A nuanced judgment seems more appropriate.

To assess what was really going on in the world of the Psalm versifiers, the author first reviews the Psalm hermeneutics of the main players on the field: Luther, Zwingli, Bucer and Calvin (part B, pp. 35-89). She shows that the hermeneutical question, which led to the confessional divide around 1600, is already present from the very beginning, and can be traced back to Luther’s first lectures on the Psalms in 1513/4. As such this is correct, but it’s not the whole truth. If she would have dug a little deeper into the matter, she would have discovered that the hermeneutic problem (‘How to read the Jewish Bible in a Christian context’) has been problematic in the Christian Church from the very moment she lost contact with her Jewish roots. The Hebrew Bible was annexed, and became the Old Testament. All Church fathers read the Jewish Psalms as if they were Christian property. They all assumed that the alleged author, David, was as a prophet of the coming of Christ. Interpreting these texts as Jewish prayers within the temporal context of their times was simply unthinkable. When in the beginning of the sixteenth century Hebrew scholarship began to flourish, the question about the importance of the original Jewish context reappeared. From that moment onwards, everyone interpreting the biblical Psalms for a Christian audience (scholars, preachers, translators, versifiers) had to make up his mind again. What am I going to do with the Jewish origin of these texts? One had to take far-reaching hermeneutical decisions. Here Luther enters the scene. This is his context as a Theology Professor in Wittenberg, and he is fully aware of what is at stake. He takes a stand, indeed already outlined in his first lectures on the Psalms (1513/1514). He professes to be a pupil of the French Humanist, Jacques Lefèvre d’Etaples, whose Quincuplex Psalterium (1509) Luther perused to prepare his lectures. In this book Lefèvre d’Etaples calls attention to Jerome’s ‘Psalterium Hebraicum’, and tries to account for the differences between this text and the Vulgate. At the same time, he defends the Christological exegesis, even when the original Hebrew text seems to contradict this. Every Psalm is about Christ. In that sense, the historical vicissitudes of king David are irrelevant for understanding his Psalms. Not David historicus should interest us, but David propheticus. The Psalms have only one meaning, Christ, and this is the original meaning. Lefèvre d’Etaples advocates a sensus litteralis spiritualis. This hermeneutical stance is very similar to Luther’s dictum ‘Was Christum treibet’.[2] They are interested in the Hebrew texts, surely, but for the sake of the Christian argument. The Hebrew Truth should advance the Christian Truth. This argument was not without consequences for Luther’s view on the transformation of the Hebrew Psalms into Christian songs. The true meaning of the Psalms being Christ, the Psalm songs had to transmit the Gospel of the Justification through Faith by Grace alone. In the above-mentioned Psalm 130 (Aus tiefer Not), Luther inserts phrasing derived directly from this theologoumenon (‘Es ist doch unser Tun umsonst’; ‘Auf mein Verdienst nicht bauen’).[3] The psalm does not say this, but – according to Luther - the Holy Spirit does, and since He is the original author of this Psalm, the Psalm does say this, another fine example of Lefèvrian exegesis, following the sensus litteralis spiritualis. This freedom of paraphrase within the boundaries of Lutheran theology soon became a characteristic of the Lutheran \Psalm songs.

The Calvinist Psalm project, on the other hand, is characterized by a much greater faithfulness to the original text. But – and the author makes this point several times – this does not imply that Calvinists don’t believe that the Psalms prophecy Christ. They do, but they abstain from inserting this into their translated text. Rather, they make this explicit using paratextual elements, like prefaces, summaries (‘Arguments’) and marginalia. The theological framework is still Christological, but in the translation, in the Psalm song, this is left implicit. One generally attributes this hermeneutic decision to John Calvin himself. This is correct, but equal credits is due to Martin Bucer of Strasbourg, as the author rightly states (p. 88, 278). Calvin builds on theological and liturgical views developed by Martin Bucer. Crucial is Bucer’s voluminous Commentary on the Psalms, directly based on the Hebrew text, and freely perusing rabbinical exegesis (David Kimhi, Abraham Ibn Ezra) to clarify obscure passages. Re-reading the Psalms in this way, he feels the need to rethink the hermeneutical framework for the interpretation of the Psalter. Of course, it has to be Christian in scope, but it also has to validate the original historical context. Bucer often uses historical analogies (e.g. between King David and Christ), safeguarding an indirect reference to Christ, while doing justice to the original context. He therefore prefers using typology over forcing the text to produce spiritual or prophetic meaning. In his own Commentary on the Psalms, Calvin explicitly pays tribute to Bucer, and uses the same exegetical devices, based on a historical-typological hermeneutics. It will come as no surprise that both Reformers promoted a faithful versification of the Psalms, respecting the original meaning, Bucer since 1524 (German), Calvin from 1539 onwards (French).

With this in mind (part B), the author analyzes the German Psalters, trying to assess the hermeneutics in or behind the translations (part C, pp. 90-271). Next to the often very instructive ‘prefaces’, she focuses on six Psalms in particular: Pss. 2, 6, 12, 22, 23 and 79. Is the traditional Christology present (Pss. 2, 22, 23), and if so, explicit or implicit? Does the Lutheran theology of justification find its way into the text? (Ps. 6). Are ‘the enemies’ in the Psalms Papists, Turcs, ‘Schwärmer’ etc, or just the enemies of the respective Psalm poets? (Pss. 12, 79). This turns out to be a valid working method. In the first chapter the author reviews the reception and impact of Luther’s Psalm songs in several parts of the German speaking world. In the second chapter she turns to the triumphal entrance of the Geneva Psalter. This is the most interesting and most extensive part of the present study (C II, pp. 144-229). Besides well-known versifiers she also discusses numerous minor poets, whose translations only had local importance. Generally, they remain firmly rooted in Lutheran hermeneutics. There certainly is competition with the Geneva Psalter but no exclusion. Some are even inspired by it. The Lutheran theologian Nikolaus Selnecker openly praises Lobwasser’s translation of the Geneva Psalter (p. 228). However, the growing confessional tension between Calvinism and Lutheranism has its effects. In 1602 Cornelius Becker presents his German Psalms as a necessary antidote against the Geneva Psalter. His preface echoes Ægidius Hunnius. In the third chapter, the author deals with the Psalm songs written during the Thirty Years War. Lutheran hermeneutics remains dominant, but becomes less explicit. A crucial sub-chapter (C.III.2, pp. 248-257) is dedicated to the Psalm poems of Martin Opitz, which are labeled as ‘transcending confessions’. The author shows that Opitz not only returns to the Hebrew original (be it mediated), but also that he perceives the Psalter as a poetical text sui generis. They should be translated in a way that is faithful to the original. Although this sounds very similar to the Calvinist Anliegen, this does not imply a rejection of Lutheran theology. It is simply a poet’s respect for seminal texts in a foreign language. He aims to create a worthy German equivalent for these ‘heavenly poems’. Nota bene: not songs, but poems that can be sung. In other languages, Opitz claims, these poems exist already. He mentions the work of Eobanus Hessus, Buchanan (Latin), Marot/Bèze and Desportes (French) and, surprise: Dathenus, Marnix of St. Aldegonde and Camphuysen (Dutch). His translation is meant to fill the lacuna. It goes without saying that in his translation he will follow linguistic rules proper to the German language, set out by himself in Das Buch der deutschen Poeterey, 1624.

In his preface Opitz also goes to great lengths to show that he used all means available to get as close as possible to the original texts. This scholarly approach, together with his literary interest in the original text of the Psalms, indeed transcends confessional boundaries. This however is not a new attitude towards the Psalms, as the author seems to think, but is in fact as old as the Psalm translation project itself. Here the author pays the price for focusing on Psalm versifications as ecclesial songs, and confining herself almost exclusively to the German-speaking parts of Europe. This approach obscures the fact that the interest in the original biblical texts was part of a much broader cultural phenomenon: The Renaissance fascination with ancient texts and culture tout court. From mid-fifteenth century onwards, Humanist scholars tried to unlock these old texts in editing them from the manuscripts that they collected and critically compared. They also sought to produce literary translations of ancient texts informed by their philological study of them. This process intertwined with the earliest Reformation impulses; profited from it, and was impeded by it, but never lost its own impetus. With regard to the Bible, it continued independent from the ecclesial need for biblical translations, even during the Age of Confessionalisation. This is the ‘natural habitat’ of Martin Opitz.

Thus, seen from a European perspective, the angle Opitz took for his Psalm poems is not as novel as it is presented in this book. He stands self-consciously in a wider European tradition (see the Preface to his German Psalm poems). In a way, his translation brings the preceding history full-circle. He is the counterpart of that other poet, who a century earlier, in France began versifying the Psalms, Clément Marot. This is also something the author overlooked. She presumes Marot began versifying the Psalms for ecclesial use, in close collaboration with John Calvin (p. 75), but this is not the case. Marot (1486-1544) was an established French poet, in the service of Margaret of Navarre, and created his first Psalm poem in the early 1530s. It was only after Calvin adopted some of his poems in Strasbourg in 1539 that these courtly poems became ecclesial songs. Gradually they became so associated with the Geneva reformation, that the original habitat was forgotten, even more so retrospectively, but the Humanist and literary aspect, rising above confessional identities, was part and parcel of the French psalm project from the beginning.

It is unfortunate, therefore, that the author was not fully aware of the European dimension of the Humanist translation project, of which the Psalm songs also belong, because it would have guarded her from some errors in the final chapter of the book (part D, conclusions). The fact that Marot’s Psalm poems were used for artful polyphonic compositions and appear in chanson collections, for instance, would not have come as a surprise. These poems and songs also have a reception history independent of their liturgical use. Calvin may have adopted them, but they were not his. It also explains why the Roman-Catholic composer Orlando di Lasso set Marot’s Psalm 130 to music (published in 1564). This is not a sign of a trans-confessional attitude, as the author suggests (p. 258, also assuming Lasso composed a large number of French Psalms, quod non). It only reveals that even in the second half of the sixteenth century, Marot’s Psalms were not exclusively seen as Calvinist Church property, and that there still existed a community of people (in this case: the Antwerp Collegium Musicum, with whom Di Lasso was befriended), who tried not to let the confessional divide become a cultural and human divide. Similar things can be said about the fact that so many Lutheran musicians came to Amsterdam to study with Jan Pietersz. Sweelinck (ibid.). This is not so amazing (an ostensible sign of ‘trans-confessionality’), Sweelinck was ‘Amsterdam’s City Organist’ and very famous. That’s why Samuel Scheidt became his pupil. Confession had nothing to do with this. Sweelinck’s own confessional affiliation cannot even be established with certainty.[4] That Sweelinck improvised on the melodies of the Genevan Psalms (on all imaginable moments of the week, except during the religious Service), and that he made polyphonic settings of the entire Geneva Psalter, does not make him a ‘reformed musician’; nor does the fact that he composed ‘Cantiones sacrae’, makes him a ‘catholic musician’. The adjective is not pertinent. The author sometimes falls victim to her own research framework, in which Confession is the main identifier for human activity. This was, and is – fortunately – not true. (Or: Research done within the framework of the Konfessionalisierungsthese bears the risk of seeing confessional aspects everywhere, and getting blind for other aspects).

This brings me to my final remark. I agree with the author that Opitz marks the end of an era and opens the door to a new Christian approach to the Hebrew Psalms – I only add that ‘new’ doesn’t mean ‘novel’ (cf. supra). Opitz, so to speak, breaks the confessional chains, imposed on the Psalms. They are now open to a new and fresh reading. The question then arises: Why did this liberation not lead to a flourishing of new Psalm poems and songs? I ask this question because the main conclusion of the chapter about the ‘Kulturprägende Wirkung des Psalmlieds in der Musikgeschichte’ seems to be that there is not much to say about the impact of the Psalm songs in culture, once Bach is gone. The reference to Mozart’s Zauberflöte (the melody of the ‘song of the men in armor’ resembles ‘Ach Gott vom Himmel sieh darein’, pp 288-9) though intriguing, is hardly evidence of a strong cultural impact. Apparently, Psalm songs flourished not despite, but because of confessionalisation. Their power to foster identities, is a critical part of what made them so popular. This is a peculiarity that Psalm songs share with, amongst others, national anthems. Without context, they lose much of their emotive power. With regard to the Psalms, this is a pity, since this study en passant has highlighted the unique character of the Hebrew Psalms as a cultural heritage in Western-Europe. There is hardly an ancient text, that has such a fascinating history of cultural transmission, translation, transformation (positive and negative), as the Psalms. They are so many things at the same time: Ancient poems from a now lost Middle-East culture, part of the Holy Scripture of the Jewish people read and prayed by them for more than 2500 years, and – by adoption – part of the Christian Bible, providing words and images for prayer, influencing spirituality, shaping the Liturgy of the Church. Although the Church – as an institution – has lost much of its cultural impact, this cultural heritage is still there, waiting to be ‘received’ anew. Everyone who sings, reads, prays, studies, translates, these poems/songs, adds an element to the reception history of these multifaceted texts. And, sooner or later, has to come to terms with the many layers in the texts. All translators and versifiers, discussed in this book, met this challenge, and made their choices, the one more knowingly than the other. Making this visible, is one of the great merits of this book, for which we thank the author.

The abundant footnotes, sometimes containing long excerpts from Prefaces and Psalm songs, not only enable the reader to verify what the main body of the text claims, they also transfer something of the look and feel of the original. As such it is a valuable contribution to the reception history of the Hebrew Psalms, and an invitation for others to continue exploring.

Dick Wursten, Antwerp