Attending Mozart's "Idomeneo" at the Met the other night got me thinking -- and I'm certainly not the first to have made this connection -- of the Biblical story of Abraham.
In both cases, a god requires a mortal to kill his first-born or at least most important son. That's perhaps the most difficult order a father could receive, in a patriarchal society at any rate.
I qualify "first-born" because although the Christian god refers to Isaac as Abraham's first-born male child in the Biblical account of the incident, the Bible also makes it clear that Abraham actually had an older son named Ishmael by a different wife. Oh well, the Bible isn't completely consistent on a number of matters.
And while Idamante is clearly the crown prince in "Idomeneo," it isn't certain he was the first-born male child of the family. Perhaps Idomeneo had an earlier son who didn't survive.
In any event, both Isaac and Idamante -- clearly the most important male children in their fathers' lives -- appear to be doomed innocents, only to each be saved by the respective gods in question at the last instant.
How did these situations arise?
Well, in the case of Idomeneo, it was because he had made a deal with Neptune, god of he sea. Shipwrecked on his way home from Troy (does that sound familiar, too?), Neptune agrees to save the king of Crete as long as Idomeneo agrees to kill the first male he sees upon reaching home. Naturally, that turns out to be his son.
In the Bible's Old Testament, God's order to Abraham appears to come pretty much out of the blue. Not unexpectedly, this has led to much thought, analysis and interpretation, the result of which is this: God needs to test Abraham's faith and obedience, in part, I suppose because his progeny were going to populate significant parts of the earth.
In Abraham's case, the reason God relents is simple. Abraham doesn't complain in any way about the order and sets out to burn his son -- without telling Isaac what is going to happen until pretty much the last minute. Just as Abraham is about to light the fire, he notices a ram trapped in some nearby bushes that God has clearly provided as a substitute since Abraham has passed the test.
Things are more complicated with respect to Idemeneo. Due to certain events and circumstances, he has to tell his son what he needs to do some time before he plans to do it, which conveniently allows Mozart to compose memorable arias of anguish for both characters. Finally, when Idamante realizes his father has been unexpectedly cold toward him not out of anger or hatred, but because of love, Idamente, himself insists that the sacrifice go forward.
The Greek gods interact with humans in ways the Christian god does not. And Neptune, impressed with the power of love, relents and agrees to a compromise. Ideomeno does not have to kill his son if he gives up his crown to Idamante, which he readily does. All then all ends happily except for the refugee Greek princess Elettra whose plight is discussed in the preceding post.
Interestingly, in time (often a little hazy both with respect to Greek legends and early Christianity). Idemeneo's ill-fated bargain with Neptune comes first. But the Old Testament was written well before Mozart composed his opera to a libretto supplied by one Giovanni Battista Varesco who in turn borrowed from a libretto by Antoine Danchet, a Frenchman.
So who knows which story might have influenced the other.
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