DIRECTOR’S NOTE

The structure of time and space in this play evokes the nature of memory: the past is often summoned into the present. For Miri, her most traumatic memories are conjured with her return to what should be a place of comfort, and her presence after an embittered departure pulls the painful past into high relief for others.

What Jacob believes he needs in grief is distinctly different from, and even in direct conflict with, what Esther needs in her own attempts to weather life’s blows with her faith intact. They each experience and manage their grief in ways that will perhaps look all too familiar to many. Eric and Miri’s respective realizations about the gifts and challenges of life in a small religious community may ring some bells as well.

What was immediately compelling about this play to me was its expression of the tension we live in between the “now” and “not yet” of the Kingdom. Our citizenship compels us to participate in its coming, doing the work of reconciliation in all realms of life. What does this look like when it comes to loving our neighbors and living in community, at its messiest and most difficult? When we have hurt or been hurt by those closest to us?

In this story, principles become distorted and misapplied. Obedience to the letter of the law chokes out the capacity for love. The will of a man is labeled the will of God. And, in this story, wounds are tended. Hardened hearts are softened. Hope is reignited. What was lost begins, by grace, to find its way.

Thank you for joining us to listen with open hearts.