Do you love opera?” – Maybe you are one of the lucky ones who can answer this question with “yes”. But honestly, do you pray at the opera? Or to put it another way: Do you sometimes join in the prayers at the opera? After all, prayers appear in many operas: they are often at the turning points of the plot and even more often they are among the big “hits”.
Bellini’s “Norma”, for example, is hardly known in this country, but most opera lovers have the virtuoso aria “Casta Diva” in their ears. Maria Callas’ interpretation of “Norma” made it so popular in Italy that the prayer scene was printed on the 5,000 lire bills.
At most, “Vissi d’arte” from Puccini’s “Tosca” has achieved comparable fame, and contrary to what the title (“I dedicated my life to art”) suggests, this aria is also a prayer.
Safe in the protection of Mary
It is already apparent here that prayer is the main activity in Italian opera; However, the German repertoire also comes up with famous prayers: Agathe’s “Quiet, quiet, pious way” from Weber’s “Freischütz” is just as much a part of it as the “Abendsegen” from Humperdink’s “Hänsel und Gretel” or “Allmächt’ge Jungfrau” from Wagner’s ” Tannhauser”.
Where, on the other hand, dark powers are at play, prayer gives way to an oath of revenge or a curse. One hears this most impressively in Wagner, for example in “Lohengrin” when Ortrud calls out to the “desecrated gods”. But Verdi is not inferior either: in the “Maskenball”, for example, he has the fortune teller Ulrika conjure up the “king of the abyss”: “Re dell’ abisso, affrettati!”
Such magic is often found in operatic literature; Often there are also “prayers” which – if you look closely – are not prayers at all. But as soon as one prays in an authentic sense, it’s about the whole thing: mostly about the outcry of a soul and – ideally – about its devotion to God.
It is striking that on the opera stage it is almost always women who pray fervently, and only a few male roles break with this cliché. But when they do, they do it like Massenet’s “Le Cid” with heroic aplomp; they appear steely and manly before God, their judge and father: “Ô sovereign, ô juge, ô père!”
Women, on the other hand, tend to pray out of the experience of their own powerlessness and at the same time demonstrate the greater power of prayer. The fact that they prefer to turn to the Blessed Virgin confirms this: as “blessed among women”, Mary intercedes for them. The many variations of the “Ave Maria” reflect this; among them, the version from Verdi’s “Othello” is probably the most famous.
When Desdemona begins this “Ave” with a ravishing “mezza voce”, she already suspects that Othello will kill her. She lets her prayer rise to heaven in silver cantilenas and seals it with a softly flooded “Amen” that seems to float freely on a high A flat. Desdemona knows that she is safe in Mary’s protection, she has placed life and death in her hands. – That’s how deep the trust in the heavenly powers can be, and that’s how supernatural it can sound. If it is true that God can be experienced in art, then opera is something like the high school of prayer.
No happy ending
This is particularly true of Puccini’s one-act play Suor Angelica. After being banished to the convent, the young nun Angelica found out about the death of her illegitimate son. A long-smoldering crisis then comes to a head: Angelica wants to be with her child and desperately resorts to poison. Dying, she calls on Our Lady for mercy: “O Madonna, salvami! Una madre t’implora” – What happens then is also unusual in the opera: Heaven opens, the Blessed Virgin appears and leads Angelica to her son. She enters eternal life with exclamations of extreme ecstasy.
This saving power of prayer is thematically developed even more broadly in Ponchielli’s “La Gioconda”. Little known in German-speaking countries, the opera takes place during the 17th-century Venetian carnival and has a surprising key motif: the rosary.
The complex plot begins with the blind mother (“La Cieca”) of street singer Gioconda being burned as a witch. But Laura, the wife of the inquisitor, manages to save the blind woman when she points to the rosary in her hands: witches don’t pray and the blind woman is released. As a thank you, she gives Laura her rosary, which, as she says, “connects all prayers”: “A te quest rosario, que le prehgiere aduna” – Cieca’s aria is a single praise of prayer, a short catechesis on the rosary.
Meanwhile, the sounds of the organ call for Vespers and Gioconda gratefully joins in the prayers of the crowd. She has everything she desires: her mother and her love for Enzo. In a famous, celestial phrase, her voice soars to a delicate high B: “O madre mia! Enzo adorato! Ah, come t’amo”. – At this point, however, Gioconda has no idea that their great happiness has already collapsed: under the masks, Enzo has recognized Laura as the sweetheart of his youth; they were once a couple before their forced marriage. Both decide to flee Venice secretly, but the plan is betrayed; the captors approach Enzo’s ship. Laura begs the Blessed Virgin, the “Star of the Sea”, for help: “Stella dell’ marinar, Vergine santa, tu mi defendi!” – Then Gioconda appears unexpectedly. She has heard of Enzo’s plans and the rival, but when she wants to kill them, she recognizes Laura by the rosary of the blind. Gioconda helps her to escape: “O madre mia, quanto mi costi” – she now pays a high price for saving her mother; she knows: she has lost Enzo forever. In the end he will be happy with Laura.
For Gioconda, on the other hand, there is no happy ending: “Tocco alla mèta”, she sums up gloomily: she no longer has any prospects in life; suicide becomes the “last cross” on their way.
The inner logic of the opera is not taken into account
The night-black aria “Suicidio” still takes up a number of religious motifs, but faith and hope have given way to despair and resignation. Numerous octave jumps underline this; Gioconda plunges into the darkness of her soul: “Or piombo esausta fra le tenèbre!”
Nevertheless, this aria remains a prayer and so Gioconda asks heaven for the peace of the grave: “Domando al cielo di dormir quieta dentro l’avel!” – Only the music gives a hint that her request will be granted.
Of course one could object here that prayer in the opera is merely a sung monologue, a psychogram or a self-assurance, perhaps the moment when a “deus ex machina” comes into play.
All of this may be true; but it does not take into account the inner logic of the opera. On the opera stage, God is taken for granted as a matter of course; prayer remains such an honest thing. It reflects a trust in a higher reality that is far beyond our critical perception. To today’s listeners, this may seem disconcerting, perhaps disturbing or naïve. – Who prays in a time that has no longer learned to pray? Isn’t that as obsolete as the opera itself is: a dismissed, now and then religiously kitschy world? Nevertheless, only she depicts the human and the divine in an existential way that can get under your skin. And this is exactly what prayer shows: if prayer is the moment in which man opens up towards God, then this is the most urgent moment of all. You feel that most strongly in the opera and most when you surrender yourself completely to the music. You can feel what Marietta formulated in Korngold’s “Dead City”: All “Hope soars skywards”. That’s what prayer and opera as a whole is about. – Perhaps you will pray with us next time you go to the opera?
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