May 1, 2024
The Temple
Atlanta, Georgia – USA
Jake HEGGIE: Another Sunrise
Clinton Smith, conductor; Nora Winsler, stage director; Jake Heggie, composer; Gene Scheer, librettist. Cast: Esther Tonea (Krystyna). Creative: Aletha Saunders, stage manager.
Howard Wershil | 6 MAY 2024
Today is Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day, which began at sundown last night.[1]
In anticipation of this annual remembrance of the Holocaust, on Wednesday evening we were privileged to have The Temple in Atlanta present Another Sunrise, a one-act opera or “dramatic/lyric scene” composed in 2012 by Jake Heggie, with a libretto by Gene Scheer.
The setting for Another Sunrise was propitious. The spacious, gorgeously ornate sanctuary contains a two-story bimah[2] topped with an ark containing the Holy Scriptures. This bimah allows the musicians and conductor to be close to the audience and affords expanse for the dramatic soprano’s travels as she presents to us the main character’s story. The Temple is no stranger to antisemitism, having experienced a bombing by white supremacists on October 12, 1958, an event that fortunately caused no injuries but rallied national support and fanned the flames of The Temple’s commitment to social justice that remains to this day—all the more appropriate a setting for a production that informs us of tragedy and survival, and of identity and conflict.
Adding to the setting are two screens on either side of the bimah, on which the words of the libretto are projected as the soprano sings them. The background is night but slowly transitions to an early dawn as the opera draws to a conclusion.
Another Sunrise attempts to explore, as described in the program notes provided by the composer and librettist, “the parts of the past that remain in the shadows.” This presentation of “Another Sunrise” was performed by members of The Atlanta Opera Orchestra (Helen Kim, violin; Daniel Tancredi, bass; David Odom, clarinet; Charae Krueger, cello; and Elena Kholodova, piano) conducted by Clinton Smith; with soprano Esther Tonea outstandingly fulfilling the opera’s dramatic lead role.
Let me pull you gently into the world of the shadowed memory of a Holocaust survivor.
We are introduced to Sonia Landau, born into a secular Jewish family in 1914 and forced into the Warsaw ghetto in 1941 despite her secularism. Later, escaping the ghetto, she adopted the name of Sophia Wisniewska and worked for the Polish underground resistance. She was subsequently arrested by the Gestapo in 1943, to whom she refused to reveal her contacts. Under arrest, she identified herself as Krystyna Żywulska, and her birthdate as 1918. The Gestapo then sent her to Auschwitz-Birkenau as a political prisoner—not as a Jew—to be tasked with actions that, along with those of others, would ultimately lead to the deaths of other Jews. During that time, she still secretly engaged in resistance activities intended to bolster the hopes of others still living and became known as their “camp poet.”
However, the true story of the opera is not about the events mentioned above. It’s about her anxiety decades later as she reflects upon these life events before and during her time in a concentration camp. It’s about the toll taken on a human life when that human, under the duress of extraordinary circumstances, is forced to choose behavior against their personal inclinations simply to survive—simply to see another sunrise.
It is a story of conflict, not only of conflict but of the struggle to find voice and words to that conflict when the depth and detail of one’s experiences are so unimaginable.
If you were faced with such atrocities, let alone the pressure to be complicit with them, just how would you define your identity then? Would you have faith that a true identity still existed?
The musical language of Another Sunrise might give the mistaken impression that it belongs to a pre-21st century era were it not for slight touches of harmony and phrasing owing to minimalism and its linguistic evolution. Contrasting styles, both new and old, blended beautifully. At times, some instrumental passages, particularly solo ones, were reminiscent of melodies found in Jewish Sabbath services—or is that simply my projection of personal culture onto a passage in a minor key occurring in an opera dealing with a Holocaust survivor’s memories? At one point, there was even a sly blurred melody evoking Johann Strauss Jr., echoing the music playing for the resident SS in a room adjacent to a room where Krystyna spoke with a dying friend. Overall, the effect of the music was lyrical, haunting, at times bombastic, often chilling, but always, always perfectly reflective of the accompanying dialog of angst and passion, doubt, and guilt.
And what a dialog it is! The words of struggle and conflict were powerfully delivered by soprano Esther Tonea. As she sang, she walked around the synagogue bimah, up and down stairs, to and from various levels, with the lovely sanctuary’s golden ark of the Torah looming in the background as a silent participant. She communicated not only with words and song but with hand gestures, facial expressions, and body language as well. Such a combination of vocal and theatrical mastery provided us with an undeniable emotional connection to the woman desperately trying to quantify, and perhaps justify, her harrowing and inhumane experiences that now required her attention but that she had abandoned thought of decades ago.
As has come to be expected, The Atlanta Opera maintained its wonderful level of excellence. The instrumental performances were superb, the conducting flawless, and the soprano’s performance of the very highest caliber. There were moments that raised the hairs on the back of my neck and moments that truly came close to bringing me to tears.
Following the performance of Another Sunrise, Atlanta radio personality Lois Reitzes of WABE moderated a discussion involving the concepts of conflict and identity with panel members Gene Scheer (librettist of Another Sunrise), Rabbi Peter S. Berg (Rabbi of The Temple) and Tomer Zvulun (General and Artistic Director of The Atlanta Opera). The discussion was meaningful, including responses both to questions posed by Ms. Reitzes and to questions posed by audience members. The content of the discussion was generally that of the lessons learned from those who, as a result of conflict, had to make difficult decisions that challenged their personal morality and the personal damage they underwent as a result of circumstances requiring those decisions.
Since it is impossible to offer details of such a discussion in its entirety, I humbly offer a few highlights for personal consideration.
When posed a question from Lois Reitzes concerning identity, conflict, and assimilation, Gene Scheer acknowledged a history of situations for the Jewish people that required impossible decisions.
In response to a question from Lois Reitzes as to whether the congregation of The Temple had learned lessons from their own experiences, Rabbi Peter S. Berg introduced the notion that there are times when our life may be threatened, and we have to make a choice, and there are times when it’s appropriate to stand up and show that we’re proud to lead a Jewish life.
Given that The Atlanta Opera is currently performing Richard Wagner’s Die Walküre the same week as it offers this remembrance for Yom HaShoah, discussion of Wagner and his blatant, fervent antisemitism could hardly be avoided. Although it is commonly believed that Wagner’s music was being played while humans were being led to the gas chambers, this information is disputed. Perhaps the memories of a concentration camp survivor could illuminate us. There is, of course, ample evidence of Adolf Hitler’s love for Wagner’s music and his actions to appropriate it as “Nazi” music and use it as an instrument to further his own goals. For decades, Israel has not sanctioned performances of music composed by Richard Wagner. This ban is still in effect today.
The question arose about how, or if, we separate an individual’s damaging behavior from the excellence of their creations, as in separating Wagner’s rabid antisemitism from the genius of his artistic endeavors. Tomer Zvulun touched on the logical, if not obvious, fact that, as humans, we are not perfect. He continued to point out Wagner’s own potentially Jewish history, the details of which you can readily research. It seems Richard Wagner had his own struggle with identity and conflict to deal with, a struggle that may have led to his own vehement expressions of hatefulness towards the Jewish people.
Later in the discussion, one audience member suggested that failing to separate the artist from the man caused a lost opportunity. Another suggested that this evening’s occasion should not be about Richard Wagner.
Zvulun also touched upon the phenomenon of demonization and how people are demonizing each other all over the world instead of simply realizing that people are people and that we all have family and friends that we love and cherish. I value this notion deeply, but I still wonder if it’s possible to evolve this as a comprehensive human norm rather than an exception to the norm. Where do we begin to do this? How do we do this? He also reminded us later that while one may need to do whatever is necessary to survive, there is a sad price that comes with that survival, as Another Sunrise so ably points out.
Responding to an audience member’s comment on the power of the line, “a survivor is not a hero,” Gene Scheer referred to it as a pivotal line in the opera and told the story of an uncle captured at the Battle of the Bulge, who was 19 out of 400 camp survivors. His uncle spent the last ten months of the war in a camp where, because he spoke Yiddish, he was able to communicate with the Germans. When asked by one German how he could understand them, the uncle explained that he could speak Yiddish because he was Jewish. The German recommended he keep that to himself.
Mr. Scheer continued to explain that his uncle, as relating to the pivotal libretto phrase mentioned, also did not regard himself as a hero. He was frightened and starving. When working in the fields and spotting a potato, he grabbed it and ate it. There was no question of saving or sharing. It was consumed immediately out of desperation. Upon coming home after the war, the uncle who survived also suffered from PTSD. In conclusion, Mr. Scheer related his uncle’s war experience and his experiences going forward to those of Krystyna Żywulska.
In response to a question from an audience member concerning the current situations faced by many Jewish college students, Rabbi Peter S. Berg referred to the struggle of finding oneself in a situation, such as Krystyna’s, where impossible choices must be made and related it to the choices now having to be made by young Jewish students, whether in the process of proudly fighting victimization or in the process of choosing to refrain from conflict. He renewed his commitment, and The Temple’s, to be there for those who need them.
We could see the light and dark in all the experiences shared by panelists and audience members. For me, as a Jew and as a human, this evening’s experience deeply touched and challenged my soul, raising (again) so many questions from deep within.
Not everyone asks questions. For some who do, an easy but incomplete answer that provides solace and a sense of purpose is enough to deflect a broader exploration of effective solutions for everyone—if such solutions are even possible. Sometimes, the sense of purpose created by those easy answers fosters the very conflict many of us hope should never develop again.
Yom HaShoah. Holocaust Remembrance Day. There’s likely not a Jew on this planet unaware of this day and its horrific significance. We hope many non-Jews are aware as well, from their teachers, from their religious institutions, from their parents, from their friends and acquaintances. It is a day all humans should be aware of, for it’s one of too many days in humankind’s history, not just in Jewish history, that illuminate humanity’s oxymoronic capacity for inhumanity towards its own. It happened. It really did. And the danger of it happening again, to us, to some other group, somewhere, somehow, some way, always simmers as a possibility in the tapestry of human existence. Perhaps it’s happening somewhere right now. Perhaps it never stops.
How do we respond? For certain, one way is with artistic creativity in the expression of human tragedy and loss, as conveyed by Jake Heggie and Gene Scheer in the telling of Krystyna Żywulska’s story. The actions and results of artistic energy provide a window through which we see ourselves more clearly and perhaps more compassionately.
But each of us responds in our own individual ways, creative or otherwise. We respond with our behavior towards each other. We respond with our silence. As Rabbi Berg pointed out, there always exists the possibility that we will be faced with difficult choices. Krystyna Żywulska, in complete and understandable accordance with any human’s instincts for survival, made her own circumstance-influenced choices. But considering our own lives of comparable comfort, what paths do we take? What choices should we make? So many choices would seem to be valid, depending upon our perspective and perception of the situation at hand. Do we choose silence or action? Do we risk our lives to protect other human lives or favor our own safety? Do we choose compassion or caution? Violence or discourse? Rage or calm? Emotion or reason? Pride or fear? Our own unique choices. We must try to choose wisely.
The fabric of the future has yet to be created. We each hold a needle and thread. ■
Author’s postscript:
This event was sponsored by The Douglas J. Hertz Family Foundation, with The Jewish Federation of Greater Atlanta and the Bremen Museum as community partners. Special credit must be afforded to Cantor Tracey Scher of The Temple for her efforts, along with Tomer Zvulun, in organizing and encouraging the Atlanta premiere of this work and to Nora Winsler, stage director, and Aletha Saunders, stage manager, for their efforts in providing guidance and environment to the realization of this moving, heartbreaking work.
My apologies if I’ve omitted other worthy contributors and collaborators for this very special event. Know that you are valued and appreciated as well.
“Another Sunrise” was commissioned by Music of Remembrance and was premiered on May 14, 2012, at Music of Remembrance’s Holocaust Remembrance Concert, Benaroya Hall, Seattle, Washington, USA.
All isolated italicized lines included in the above review, except for the final line, are excerpted from the libretto for “Another Sunrise.” The final line comes from comments Jake Heggie and Gene Scheer provided in the program notes for “Another Sunrise.”
[1] The date for Yom HaShoah is set according to the Jewish lunar calendar, so its Gregorian calendar dates change each year. In 2024, it begins at sundown on May 5 and ends at sundown on the following day, but because the Gregorian day starts at midnight, we say May 6 for convenience, although it starts the evening before. For instance, next year, it begins the evening of April 23; the following year, the evening of April 13; and the year after that, the evening of May 3.
According to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, when the actual date of Yom HaShoah falls on a Friday, the state of Israel observes Yom HaShoah on the preceding Thursday. When it falls on a Sunday, Yom HaShoah is observed on the following Monday. In the United States, an eight-day Days of Remembrance runs from the Sunday before Yom HaShoah through the following Sunday.
[2] Bimah: a platform in a synagogue holding the reading table used when chanting or reading portions of the Torah and the Prophets
EXTERNAL LINKS:
- The Temple: the-temple.org
- The Atlanta Opera: atlantaopera.org
Read more by Howard Wershil.