Part 2:
With the close of Act I, let’s take an intermission and examine an essential element in the set for that scene, as seen in the photo below:
At the Temple: Peixin Chen as Sarastro, with the red cape, flanked by Santiago Ballerini as Tamino, left, and Mei Gui Zhang as Pamina, right. (credit: Raftermen)
In the background, beyond the gate to the Temple of Wisdom, we see a pyramid with the glyph of an eye at the apex, which recalls the Masonic-inspired Eye of Providence at the apex of the pyramid in the Great Seal of the United States, as shown earlier.
One would naturally expect this glyph to be the “Eye of Ra” — or right wedjat-eye, which can be equated with the disk of the Sun and functions as an extension of the sun god’s power.
Surprisingly, it isn’t. Look closely: The glyph is a left eye, specifically the left wedjat-eye — that is, the “Eye of Horus,” specular to the “Eye of Ra.”
Side by side: The Eye of Ra and the Eye of Horus. (credit: Jeff Dahl, Wikipedia. License: CC BY-SA 4.0)
The Eye of Ra represents the sun god’s powerful, protective, and sometimes vengeful gaze. As a symbol of creation and destruction, Ra’s eye watches over and protects the world but also punishes enemies and wards off evil. Placing the Eye of Ra at the apex would imply a force that is not merely a passive or benevolent guardian but an active, vigilant power capable of intervention. In a Masonic context, it resonates with the ideas of enlightenment, inner vision, and the interplay of creation and destruction, suggesting that human endeavors, especially in the pursuit of knowledge or societal improvement, require both the nurturing light of wisdom and the stern oversight of accountability.
On the other hand, the Eye of Horus represents healing, protection, and restoration of wholeness. It is traditionally associated with the Moon, unlike the Eye of Ra, which symbolizes the Sun and carries more active, forceful energy.
If it is the Eye of Horus at the apex, the emphasis shifts from active divine protection or blessing to a gentler, more nurturing form and imply a focus on healing, safeguarding, and preservation rather than proactive oversight or intervention. In a Masonic or esoteric context, this change might suggest safeguarding by values of balance, restoration, and wholeness rather than strict authority or divine mandate. It would imply spiritual guidance aimed at harmony, unity, and recovery, aligning with ideals of peace and healing rather than the intensity or retributive potential of the Eye of Ra.
Which is the correct correct glyph? Again, the Eye of Ra might seem the natural choice. But note this: if you look carefully at the Great Seal of the United States, the Eye of Providence is, like the Eye of Horus, a left eye.
Here’s looking at you: The Eye of Horus and the Eye of Providence.
Consider the ancient Philae temple complex in Egypt as perhaps a likely parallel to Sarastro’s temple. Inside the central court, smaller temples appear, including one adorned with depictions of Isis, Hathor, and various deities associated with childbirth, and sculptures illustrating the birth of Ptolemy Philometor under the image of the god Horus. Scenes from the story of Osiris extensively decorate the temple walls.
Because in Act II Sarastro and his priests twice invoke Isis and Osiris in sung prayers and then again in the opera’s finale, and the fact that Horus is their son, that suggests that the choice of the Eye of Horus at the apex of the pyramid in Higgins’ set design is the right one, with all the meanings that implies. Sarastro’s Act II assurance to Pamina that “Within these sacred portals, revenge is unknown” further confirms the closer association with Horus than with the protective but punishing Ra.
Also, Horus is typically depicted as a man with a falcon’s head. In this Atlanta Opera production, Papageno and Monostatos are costumed with a bird’s head (or hat). That also implies the connection to Horus.
We also cannot ignore the many astrological symbolisms present in The Magic Flute. In the same photo, observe the open panels of the door to the Temple of Wisdom. They feature the first six signs of the zodiac — the twelve 30-degree sectors of the ecliptic that make up the Sun’s apparent annual path in the sky relative to the Earth (not to be confused with the constellations that bear the same names) — which are all north of the celestial equator, traversed between the spring and autumnal equinoxes, when the daylight is longer in the northern hemisphere than in the other six months of the year, symbolic of the Sun’s heightened powers during that time.
Although the Queen of the Night is a direct allegory of the Moon, Sarastro is not a direct allegory of the Sun. Instead, the role of Sarastro is a High Priest of the Sun, whose Egyptian title translates as “Greatest of Seers.” Thus, relative to Freemasonry, Sarastro as is the symbolic parallel to the head of a Masonic Lodge, known as the “Worshipful Master,” who embodies the qualities of wisdom, enlightenment, and moral authority. Sarastro oversees the trials and rites of initiation of his temple, much like the Worshipful Master presides over the rituals and teachings within a Masonic lodge, guiding initiates on their journey toward greater knowledge and spiritual development.
Santiago Ballerini as Tamino holds Mei Gui Zhang as Pamina, left, with Peixin Chen as Sarastro. (credit: Raftermen)
Act II opens with the priests led by Sarastro invoking Isis and Osiris in an opening chorus, gathering in a solemn ceremony to endorse Tamino’s trials for enlightenment, seeking divine protection for him and Pamina. These deities are central to themes of enlightenment, resurrection, and unity — qualities that reflect the opera’s Masonic values and the characters’ spiritual journeys. Isis represents wisdom, protection, and the nurturing aspect of feminine power, while Osiris embodies the themes of death and rebirth. Their myth, in which Isis resurrects Osiris and they bring forth Horus, mirrors the Masonic ideals of personal transformation and the triumph of knowledge over ignorance. Thus, Isis and Osiris represent the dual forces of wisdom and renewal, essential to the opera’s message about the journey from darkness to enlightenment.
The writing for men’s chorus is simple but powerful, and the men of the Atlanta Opera Chorus sang it with warmth, dignity, and introspection, delivering a feeling of unity and spiritual focus. Mozart’s dark, grounded orchestration, especially with lower strings and woodwinds, added to the music’s weight and gravity.
Two priests lead Tamino and Papageno into the Temple courtyard and warn them of the trials ahead, particularly the need for silence and resilience against female persuasion. Despite the Queen’s three Ladies attempting to sway them, Tamino remains steadfast while Papageno falters.
Meanwhile, Monostatos approaches a sleeping Pamina, ogling and intending to kiss her (“Alles fühlt der Liebe Freuden” / “All feel the joys of love”), but the Queen of the Night appears, and Monostatos hides and watches.
The Queen is displeased when Pamina, who is now awake, tells her that Tamino is joining Sarastro’s brotherhood and that she intends to accompany him. Enraged, she sings her signature “revenge” aria, “Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen” (“Hell’s Vengeance Boils in My Heart”), the acrobatic vocal high point of the opera, which Ms. Krause delivered with striking skill and fiery intensity. She gives Pamina a knife, urging her to kill Sarastro and reclaim power, then departs.
Rainelle Krause (Queen of the Night) and Mei Gui Zhang (Pamina) in The Atlanta Opera’s “The Magic Flute.” (credit: Raftermen)
Monostatos, hoping to blackmail Pamina with what he has seen and heard, is thwarted by Sarastro entering the scene and is driven off. Pamina begs Sarastro’s forgiveness for her mother’s wrath. He comforts her, reassuring her that malice and vengeance hold no power within his realm (“In diesen heil’gen Hallen” / “Within these sacred halls”).
In a temple hall, Tamino and Papageno endure another test of silence, where Papageno thirsts and receives water from a disguised old woman. After drinking, he playfully asks if she has a boyfriend; she replies that she does and that it’s Papageno. He asks her name, and she vanishes. Then, the three Spirits arrive, bringing food, the magic flute, and bells, all gifts from Sarastro (Trio: “Seid uns zum zweiten Mal willkommen” / We welcome you a second time).
Tamino starts playing the flute, which draws Pamina to him. She attempts to speak with him, but Tamino holds to his vow of silence and remains quiet, leading Pamina to fear he no longer loves her, and she leaves, heartbroken (Aria: “Ach, ich fühl’s, es ist verschwunden” / Oh, I feel it, it is gone).
The priests celebrate Tamino’s progress, and Sarastro allows him and Pamina a solemn farewell before the final trials. Afterward, Papageno is granted wine and longs for companionship; the old woman reappears and, after making Papageno promise to marry her, suddenly transforms into Papagena (Amanda Sheriff), but they are briefly separated again.
The remaining scenes in Act II are presented without breaks.
As dawn approaches, the three Spirits greet the new day and spot Pamina, who is in despair and on the brink of suicide, convinced that Tamino no longer cares for her. They restrain her and assure her that Tamino’s love is steadfast. (Quartet: “Bald prangt, den Morgen zu verkünden” / “Soon it will shine to announce the morning”).
From a Jungian perspective, Tamino’s silence represents an encounter with the shadow and the anima (the inner feminine), which are crucial for his individuation. By remaining silent, Tamino withholds the external validation Pamina seeks, forcing both of them to look inward. Silence here acts as a psychological mirror, compelling Tamino to explore his motives and Pamina to confront her dependency and fears of abandonment. Jung viewed silence as a tool for encountering the unconscious, allowing for reflection and deep emotional processing that words might only distract from.
For Pamina, this enforced separation and her resulting despair symbolize a “dark night of the soul,” a phase in the individuation process where one’s core fears and insecurities emerge. Her experience of Tamino’s silence requires her to build inner strength, developing a self-reliant love rather than a dependent attachment. In this way, their separation catalyzes both Tamino’s and Pamina’s individual transformations, enabling each to grow into a fuller, more integrated self before they reunite.
In preparation for his final ordeal, two armored men guide Tamino forward, promising that those who conquer their fear of death will gain enlightenment (“Der, welcher wandert diese Strasse voll Beschwerden” / “He who walks this road of troubles” — which Mozart set as a Bach-inspired chorale prelude. Tamino affirms he is ready for the test. From offstage, Pamina calls out, and the armored men inform him that his vow of silence is lifted, allowing him to respond. She enters, determined to face the final trials at his side, and offers him the magic flute for protection. With its aid, they safely journey through the trials of fire and water. The priests celebrate their success and welcome them into the temple.
Finally, Papageno, is despairing over losing Papagena and, like Pamina, is experiencing his own “dark night of the soul” and contemplating suicide by hanging. He is admonished by the Spirits, who remind him to use his magic bells to summon her. The happy couple reunites and dreams of a family together (“Bei Männern, welche Liebe fühlen” / “In men who feel love”).
Luke Sutliff as Papageno with the Three Spirits, left to right, Angel Williams, Adrienne Ocfemia, and Max Wells, who now carry balloons rather than riding in one.
Outside the temple, the Queen, her attendants, and Monostatos plot to destroy the temple but are thwarted by Sarastro’s forces. The opera ends with Sarastro announcing light’s triumph over darkness as Tamino and Pamina are welcomed into the brotherhood with praise to Isis and Osiris.
In this abnormally long (and late) review, we have focused the vast majority of our time on the esoteric and psychological meanings of The Magic Flute, especially as revealed by this production by The Atlanta Opera. That was entirely deliberate, as the synopsis in the program booklet glosses over all of this, dismissing discussion, as the author writes:
Instead, as his essay’s title suggests, he compares it to a Pixar movie. He goes on to complain about how a reading based on these elements is “bogged down with antiquarian gender roles.” While he mentions Jungian archetypes, he fails to connect Jungian psychology to the Masonic ritual and symbolisms he rejects from what one might today call a “politically Woke” perspective. He barely scratches the surface, ignoring the deeper essentials about the human psyche and its transformative potentials that the Masonic understandings explore reveal.
The truth is that The Magic Flute is an opera that appeals to a wide range of audiences precisely due to its multi-layered storytelling, and especially its deeper human meanings revealed in its Masonic and other symbolic and archetypal elements.
On the surface, it’s an enchanting fairy tale full of adventure, love, and humor, which makes it accessible to all ages, and we can enjoy it for that alone. But beyond that, the opera offers more profound levels of meaning, including rich Masonic symbolism, allegorical elements, and philosophical themes about wisdom, virtue, and self-discovery. The strength of those fundamental truths is why the opera continues to resonate with the audience in the 21st century, even if subconsciously, not simply because of its entertainment appeal.
This production by The Atlanta Opera has a strong cast of singers — Krause, Ballerini, Zhang being highlights among an ensemble that, in Zvulun’s typical casting fashion, suffers no weak links — vividly underscored by Fagen and the Atlanta Opera Orchestra.
Whether one enjoys it as a whimsical fantasy or delves into its complex symbolism and meanings, The Magic Flute provided a rewarding experience at any level of engagement. ■
EXTERNAL LINKS:
- The Atlanta Opera: atlantaopera.org
- Arthur Fagen: arthurfagen.com
- Tomer Zvulun: tomerzvulun.com
- Santiago Ballerini: santiagoballerini.com
- Mei Gui Zhang: meiguizhangsoprano.com
- Rainelle Krause: rainellekrause.com
- Peixin Chen: peixinchen.com
- Luke Sutliff: lukesutliffbaritone.com
- Barry Banks: harrisonparrott.com/artists/barry-banks
- Amanda Sheriff: amandasheriff-soprano.com
Read more by Mark Gresham.
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