The staircase to the dungeon hall is on the east side of the throne room wall. These words spoken by Mother Goose in the play, Little Red Robin Hood were among the easiest for me to remember. Although I had one of the smallest speaking parts in the whole play, I struggled to keep my lines straight, to know when to enter and how to leave was a bigger challenge than I expected, but no one ever yelled at me, or made me feel bad. From the youngest to the oldest, everyone was encouraging and kind. No one got left behind, but along the way I worried and wondered if we would ever be able to accomplish our goal.
There were so many of us, so much to learn, and so little time in which to do it. More than once a child or youth gave me helpful advice and much needed encouragement just when I needed it. I got to watch incredibly talented people from elementary school age and older, put together an amazing, whimsical story. From costuming to set design and construction, to learning all those lines, and not just the lines, but the choreography of how to move and even dance, how to fight without fighting, how to make the story come alive and captivate the audience, was a daunting task. Despite all of our hard work, I did not believe we could become one body, knit together in kindness and grace and story. Honestly, it seemed impossible.
Despite many appearances to the contrary, the children and youth had listened and taken to heart every word our director, Sue Hennessy, said. The lines flowed, the dancing was glorious beyond measure. Every set change (and there were more than I could count) was flawlessly executed by people I thought much too young to have such enormous responsibility.
Then suddenly it was opening night and we all did our part and the story came alive. The people who gathered to watch laughed and rejoiced as we poured our hearts out. From youngest to oldest, we formed and forged a unique community of wonder and story, friendship and collaboration. It was exhilarating and life-giving, and just plain fun.
One night in the midst of a performance, the power failed, plunging the theater into complete darkness. Out of the deep came a voice we all recognized and trusted, “Everyone freeze. The emergency lights will come on soon.”
One of the things Sue teaches most thoroughly is safety—the wellbeing of all comes first, and even the story, the performance must give way for safety. The first light was from the stage manager’s cell phone flashlight. The darkness lingered for a long time, but all the children, and even the adults sat quietly and waited. When power returned, many of us looked around in confusion, not sure where or how to begin again, until one of the kids, in a voice clear and strong, described to us where we stopped and how to begin again.
“Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.”
All three of the synoptic gospels…Matthew, Mark, and Luke, agree on this story and these words. And when the disciples are debating about which of them is the greatest, Jesus puts a child among them, a humble image of incredible powerlessness in that day and time. Jesus said the children would teach us, that unless we become like them we will miss God’s realm.
All across the planet people and nations struggle to build and establish life-giving, respectful community. Many fail, falter, and devolve into harshness and judgment that leads to despair, heartbreak and even violence. But here in Cook County we have children and youth who lead us, just as Jesus said they would. Theater is not just for adults, it is mostly intergenerational, at least in this county. People gather from many parts of the community, many different backgrounds, abilities, ages—a potpourri of humans with a common purpose. Each making a commitment to learn and grow together, to find the story, to become one body, knit together in ways that build us all up into a functioning whole.
There are always too many dungeons in this world. I am grateful beyond measure to live in a place like Cook County where children are valued, celebrated, and free to lead and take responsibility for creating community. We did not learn the way to the dungeon, but we did learn how to work together, how to value the gift and grace of each person, how to let go of “my way” and discover our way—the way of respect, the growing of peace, one line at a time.
Such things don’t happen by accident. It takes people of all ages, backgrounds and abilities to work together through the thick and thin of community and common good. The signs of such work are clear: you hear people laughing and crying with each other, listening with open hearts and tender minds, engaging respect in all things. The path to kindness can be found in the east or north, south or west. It often emerges when we least expect it, when we hear the voice of a child leading the way, illuminating the path. Stop and listen, watch and look, follow the laughter.
Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. This week our contributor is Reverend Beth Benson of the First Congregational Church – UCC in Grand Marais.
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