Finding Hope in Theater

I tend to be a “cup is half-empty” person. The current situation in the world has deepened my darkness. At night, I hear the traffic from the main street outside my window. I imagine the sound of bombs heightening the noise, and I pull the quilt over my head. My heart aches for all the children, no matter their background, who are suffering—personal injury, loss of relatives, the trauma of separation and the unknown. With each passing day and each new “breaking news” announcement, my despair intensifies.

But I continue to have one source of hope: the theater. When the house lights darken and the curtain rises, I leave behind the real world and enter one created by imaginative, empathetic, talented people: writers, set designers, lighting experts, dialogue and dance coaches and actors. Sometimes I see a wonderfully silly musical—Gutenberg! The Musical!—and other times I see a more serious play—Leopoldstadt. What I see matters less than how I feel. Whether sitting in a theater on Broadway, off Broadway, or in my hometown, I feel confident that we as a world will pull through because we have such amazing people enriching our lives. We have people capable of enhancing our lives with music and humor, making us feel less alone by transforming what seemed like a personal issue into a universal one, and convincing us that caring people still exist and will not abandon us.

Adding to my pleasure derived from theatre is my post-show conversation with my daughter or son, another usher who has seen the show, or a complete stranger who happened to be sitting next to me. We discuss what we gained from the performance, what we believe the playwright hoped to convey, and how the show gave us greater insight into ourselves and others. Through theater, therefore, I connect with others. Watching the show is an individual experience, but it is also a group one that reminds me I am not alone in this mess of a world.

Theater is my preferred art form, but dance, opera, symphonies, movies and museums can also have the same magical impact on audience members and visitors—adding a bit more liquid to make their cup of life a fuller one.

Ronna L. Edelstein
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania