Introduction The God of the operatic canon is a character of contradictory faces. At times implacable, at times marvelously indulgent, this God is apparently deaf to the entreaties of countless operatic heroines while lavishing blessings on other characters who don't seem to deserve more than a dim recess in the underworld of Orpheus. Self-indulgent Papageno fares as well as heroic Tamino. Marguerite and Thaïs are transformed in sublime visionary deaths while numerous Leonoras pray fervently into a void. God mercifully permits Orpheus to lead Euridice from the underworld only to snatch her back in a manner no more comprehensible than the fate of Lot's wife. In fact, there are so many Gods in opera that this study should probably be entitled The Polytheism of the Operatic Canon. The Greek pantheon is represented as well as the God of Judeo-Christian traditions, and numerous deities and demigods are resuscitated by Wagner to populate his lengthy cult event, Der Ring des Nibelungen.

That acknowledged, it is still true that the all pervasive ground of being in operatic metaphysics bears a striking resemblance to the omnipotent, non-gendered Person that those schooled in Western culture assume to be present everywhere in the universe. This God is waiting in the wings or about to fly down from the proscenium in many of our personal dramas. The moral obligations we sense and the transcendent vision that sometimes illuminates them, the agony and ecstasy, are explored in many permutations in opera, all under the omniscient eye of that Presence who must be placated, honored, feared, or defied. Popular religion comes laden with images that have been incorporated into operatic drama because opera is of an era that predates the modern attempt to demythologize culture. Now most people have never seen Gounod's Faust, or Tannhäuser, but chances are pretty good the psychdynamics of their spiritual struggles are informed by the Faust legend or some version the Teutonic myth of pilgrimage from a mountaintop with Venus down to the world of suffering. The patriotic fervor in the ethos of Verdi's republican dramas is as vivid as in tales of the American Revolution. All these matters of the human spirit raise many profound theological questions.

Now, of course, the philosophy and metaphysics of Western culture are vociferously contested in a Babel of paradigms and ideologies very unlike opera. Classically trained singers voice their heroic ideals and, just as often, their malfeasance quite sonorously. The politicized environment of academe is not nearly so inspiring as musical theater, and pop culture is in various stages of reversion to barbarism. A sex goddess in opera, even when played by a soprano weighing in excess of two hundred pounds, is amply provocative without the fanatical excesses of rock music. The culture war being waged by members of the Modern Language Association and by the shock troupes of pop culture would be less distressing if the same ideologies had not encroached upon the operatic stage. The viable metaphysical options for spiritual development have a more diverse representation in opera than can be found in the works of any number of contemporary nihilists attempting to rip out ideals that have deep roots in history and tradition. In most cases these iconoclasts have little of substance to offer in lieu of the classical virtues they find unsatisfactory. From this it must be clear that the present work will explore the operatic literature without the devices and jargon of the critical model now called literary theory. The dialectics of class struggle interest many contemporary directors in the musical theater and their interpretations of the repertoire. God will ultimately punish them. The ideas to be found in the events and music of the great operas are too important to encumber with Marxist baggage. The swan is leaving the station and neither the propagandists of postmodernism nor this prologue will further impede our journey. << Contents_______Next >>