I have a lot of things on my heart and spinning through my mind today. On Saturday, our 10-day run of Fiddler on the Roof closed to an exuberant standing ovation in a sold-out house. This community-theatre production was a resounding success in every way we hoped it would be; it was favourably compared to professional productions, and it is opening doors for future opportunities. Afterwards, a couple audience members asked a question that continues to play through my mind. “What’s next? You know, the key is to always take it up a notch.”
This morning, I sat with my homeless and poverty-stricken friends at a drop-in center that I help to facilitate. I was surrounded by people who are fighting to stay afloat on a sea of grief. Within the last year, each of them has lost children, parents, siblings, and/or friends in a variety of tragic ways, from fentanyl poisoning to hypothermia. Now, as the weather turns cold, they gather for maybe an hour and a half in a space where they have access to a bathroom, a hot drink and a nourishing bowl of soup. They need hope, purpose and connection. They need help and modeling to productively process the unrelenting waves of grief. We offer welcome, food, a listening ear, and occasional donations of clothing etc. We make an effort to learn every one of their names and to show them that they matter. But against such enormous need, our offerings seem pitifully inadequate.
I have a dream. It is that every person in my community would have the opportunity for the kind of purpose, belonging and mutual support that our cast and crew just experienced in Fiddler. Every one of them, whatever their backgrounds, their struggles or their idiosyncrasies. I know we are nowhere close to that even being possible today. I know it would take miracle upon miracle to achieve it. But I believe in miracles. And I long to be part of making a world where nobody’s marginalized.
Right now, I could not and would not cast most of my homeless friends in a community theatre production, even if they could be persuaded to audition. It would only be setting them and the community up for failure. For instance, they aren’t in a place where they could be relied upon to show up to rehearsals, let alone performances.
But they have grandchildren, cousins, nieces and nephews who could be part of such a production in the near future. Actually, two of our Fiddler cast members were relatives of some of my friends from the drop-in center. These two were exceptional in that they already had stage experience. Many others would need something like an improv club to help them get ready. But with a little extra, proactive support, they could be valuable members of a tight-knit cast and crew. And their performances could be an inspiration and a model for others, especially If they were helping to portray a healing story. A generous friend who brought several of our drop-in patrons to watch Fiddler reported that they shed tears; that it increased their hope and brightened their outlook. How much more would that be the case if they were personally acquainted with many of the cast, and if the story were one in which they saw themselves more readily?
And if we were doing an improv club, why not extend that to include patrons of the drop-in and others with complex needs? Is there a way that improv and role-playing could be used to help process grief? What about practicing skills like communication and conflict resolution? How many ways might we use informal theatre to achieve healing in a form of play?
What’s next? I am not certain of the details yet, but some ideas are taking shape. Whatever it is, it’s going to move us just a step or two toward that dream for everyone in my corner of the world to be embraced as a beloved member of the community. The next play I do is going to be quality entertainment. And it’s going to be inclusive and a healing story, for both the actors and the audience. It will not be a glitzy piece of fluff.
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I'm excited about the role playing and improv idea! I have become convinced of the power of role play recently since it allows our bodies to readily process our emotions and needs.