Madness in the method

"My behavior in Prague has not been normal." Author George Whyte is refreshingly forthright about himself and his attempts to have the National Theater stage his new epic, Golem 13. Yet this comical bit of self-analysis is almost the only thing that seems clear about the project, even after a lengthy press conference in the office of the theater's director, Ondřej Černý.

As a special one-off, the National Theater will be mounting what Whyte calls his "kabbalistic drama with music." Others affiliated with the piece frequently refer to it as an "opera," a designation Whyte rejects. Nonetheless, an orchestra, two choruses and a clutch of principals will take the stage Monday night to perform a mystical, musical work that ranges across centuries, from the prophet Jeremiah to the near-future, encompassing the story of the Jewish people's persecution.

The primary figure in this monumental saga is the golem - or, to be more precise, a golem, as the creature here is not necessarily the clay figure brought to life by Rabbi Loew, though Whyte's story is fully informed by this most famous of Prague tales. Rather, this golem, though born of Bohemian mud, serves as a catalyst for a future convergence of science and kabbalistic mysticism.

Befitting a piece saturated in mysticism, the genesis of the project is itself a mystery. Whyte says he came to Prague with a "missionary's zeal" to realize a vision that came to him one night seven years ago in Switzerland. He started writing, then awoke the next morning with the manuscript by his side and little memory of creating it.

"This strange, unreasonable man came to this theater waving a script," Whyte continues in his charming, self-deprecating fashion, "and I haven't stopped torturing Mr. Černý yet." Still, with or without the trappings of prophecy affixed, the piece is a vast undertaking, making its hasty premiere at the cash-strapped National Theater another mystery.

Černý gave three reasons for this last-minute addition to the theater's schedule, all of them pertinent to Prague. First, Whyte's Golem 13 was thought to be an ideal pan-European piece of theater with which to end the Czech Republic's less-than-stellar EU presidency. Second, the piece's focus on the historic plight of Jews over the past few thousand years perfectly complements the discussions that will take place at the forthcoming international conference on Holocaust-era assets being held in Terezín.

Third, and most importantly, this staging of Golem 13 coincides with the 400th anniversary of Rabbi Loew's death. As Prague was the great Maharal's domain, and as it was here that this master of the Kabbalah is supposed to have brought a golem to life, the timing seems eerily perfect.

Whether Rabbi Loew really created life is a subject of much debate, if not scorn. But Whyte is positive that it has been done. "The prophet Jeremiah is associated with such creation," he says passionately, "and there are five tracts from famous rabbis who said that they did create life. Years ago, I asked the Chief Rabbi of Prague whether he believed it possible. 'Yes,' he replied.

"Please understand," Golem 13's creator continues, "the scientific rationalist in me rejects the idea. But the student of the Kabbalah in me says yes, too."

Golem 13 opens in the 16th century in Bohemia, where a famed though stern Jewish sage - an adept of Jeremiah's prophecies - creates a golem to protect his settlement. The rabbi isn't only concerned about the growing threat of anti-Semitism in the countryside, however. He must also contend with a free-thinking son who dismisses the faith of his father, and a daughter coming into womanhood.

"When the second act opens, if the audience is still there," Whyte says, laughing, "the action will be set 500 years later in Jerusalem." In the final act, the golem will be revived in a time of great technological achievement, though the specter of anti-Semitism will have returned. Though mistaken by Jews as the awaited messiah, the golem is really more of a harbinger.

"The piece ends with a question mark," Whyte confides, with the audience left to decide whether his vision is prophetic. "This piece does make intellectual demands on its audience," he adds. "But I feel compelled to communicate these ideas. I'm not looking for glory; I am trying to make a statement. Jews are again imperiled. Yet this is an age where the paths of mysticism and science are coming closer to each other."

If this is madness, it will certainly be opulently revealed.

Steffen Silvis can be reached at
ssilvis@praguepost.com