ART VS. RELIGION

For centuries, there has been a strange dichotomy between the arts and religion, particularly in the United States. In religious circles, art devoted to religious topics is considered good,while art that depicts human desire and autonomy is not so good. The purer the religious devotion of a given sect, the plainer (to non-existent) the art seems to become. Fundamentalists are usually not passionate art lovers, choosing to channel their energies to the deity. Thus while one of the indisputably greatest art patrons of all time is the Roman Catholic Church, there are fundamentalist movements (in all religions) that have branded art heretical and artists blasphemous. The arty and the artistic have always been morally suspect in our culture. Our American founding fathers, mostly good protestants, shied away from artistic endeavors and flashy decorations, and artists to this day are still viewed in this country as strange, lewd and slightly sinful, even as the culture thrives on their images and creations and the society spends millions to enjoy the work.

I mention all this because of the odd experience I am currently having with a show I'm directing, MASS. MURDER, which is opening this Thursday at 8 pm. (See the article below from September 1st--maybe you'll even buy a ticket!) It so happens that September 13th is RoshHashanah. Of course, Jewish holidays run from sundown to sundown, so that technically speaking the holiday WILL be over by the 8 pm curtain . . . that is, if you're reform. (Orthodox Judaism celebrates the holiday for two days, such that Jews all over the world will have experienced the holiday together.) Being the director but not the producer, I really didn't schedule this, nor did I even think about it when told the dates, which I guess one could say is my "fault." And, as I say, we do open after sundown, such that those attending opening night are safe from bolt lightning, even if I will be punished for attending the dress rehearsal. (But then again, dress rehearsals are frequently punishing anyway.)

The funny thing is, I feel really elated that the show is playing on the Holiday, and I'm trying to figure out why. Normally, for the High Holidays (Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur making the equation complete), I stay home, meditate and write in my journal (often some extra pages), and reflect upon my life. This is my version of religious practice, in my own words, a one-on-one. I love my Jewish heritage and the rituals and mores of the religion, but I'm less enamored of "organized religion," and the seeming self-righteousness it can engender. I cannot afford a year-long membership in a temple, and certainly will not spend a ridiculous sum for tickets to attend two days a year when I can "pray" at home in ways that mean more to me spiritually. I do feel connected and reflective with a higher power on those days, as well as to my fellow Jewish brethren. But being surrounded by strangers who are judging each other or pledging to be more active in the synagogue with their monetary and time promises--this does not work for me. And yet because I was raised a good, middle-class conservative Jew--and because, I suspect, my core Jewishness incorporates an ingrained neuroticism--I always feel guilty as I observe but not publicly. Like it's good that I do it, but I'm not really doing it right. (On the other hand, for many years I felt enormously disconnected and uncomfortable in the temple while simultaneously doing "the right thing.")

Now why--if I'm "praying" in my own words and thoughts by writing meditations in my journal and speaking from my heart, reviewing my deeds and evaluating my actions of the past year-- am I doing it wrong? Is not using my brain, the words, the very artistic impulses that I have been gifted with the greatest way to express my thanks for what I have been given?

Strangely enough, this show seems to be giving me an answer. Three darkly comic one-acts dealing with rudeness, injustice, avarice, bullying, and vengeance, they look very powerfully (if humorously) at the sense of entitlement we feel and the actions we excuse in the name of self-defense and self-preservation. And for a change, I feel I'm doing something highly religious on the High Holidays--I'm using my art and my abilities to get people examining their own morals and morality. I certainly didn't set out to do so, and whatever conclusions the audiences draw for themselves are fine with me. But my neurotic guilt didn't come crashing in as usual when friends pointed out my scheduling flub. In fact, I felt strangely on target. If the theater is my form of religion, then certainly it can't be ill to welcome a new year and explore issues by using the work to do so? I'm even tapping into a sense of belonging, of community, as I spend the evening with my fellow artists and audience members. I'm home.

I suddenly don't feel so on the fence about Rosh Hashanah. Of course, I will STILL write and meditate that day, but I will also celebrate the art I was born to pursue, and that's very pleasing to my sense of spirituality.

Now if only I had a project for Yom Kippur--we'll be closed long before the 21st . . . !