Picture - An Israeli soldier sits on his tank at a staging area on Nov. 16, 2012 near the border between Israel and Gaza. A ground invasion might be imminent, and troops, tanks and armored personnel carriers massed near the Palestinian territory. Tsafrir Abayov, AP
none too fragile's current production, "How His Bride Came to Abraham," by Karen Sunde, finds itself smack-dab in the middle of a reality that we hadn't really considered when rehearsals began in October. Sure, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has been around forever, and yes, there's always a chance that something could go down like what has started to go down over the last couple of days. But it's pure happenstance that the fighting has ramped back up just as this show premiered.
I lay awake in bed Friday night thinking about this conflict, trying to get my head around why the killing continues. I lay awake, thinking about a picture I had seen earlier that day of a grandfather, his daughter, and her two seven-year-old sons...hunkered down in the street, backs against a concrete road barrier...waiting...to see...if they would still be breathing when the air-raid sirens ceased their mournful wail.
It's the children that have always got to me when I think of things like this. Most of the time children don't look afraid or scared. They just look...blank. Uncomprehending. It's the innocence of a child, and the naiveté, that allows that blank expression. It makes no sense to them why there are bombs dropping around them. Why are people yelling? Why are people screaming? There is no context to it, and so they do not understand it. To them, it's just loud sounds. Death is not near.
A child's mind is pure. The person next to them is just like he or she is. There are no boundaries with children. It's not until they are exposed to certain ideas that they begin to look upon this world with distrustful and suspicious eyes. It's not until later that the hate is instilled... And until then? It's a blank, un-comprehending expression.
Sabra and Abraham, raised to think each other a natural enemy, find some of that child-like innocence in that cave on none too fragile's stage, and the questions that discovery raises are what we might be pondering as we walk away.
Who is right? The Palestinians? The Israelis? The only thing I can tell you with 100% surety is that killing won't answer this question. It hasn't for 2,000 years, and it won't even if it continues for 10,000 more. So the question of who is right and wrong really is a worthless question in some ways, and "right or wrong" is not the point of Karen Sunde's script, or none too fragile's production of How His Bride Came to Abraham. The real question is how can we see that we are all the same, regardless of the God in our life, the land we live on, or the sites we consider sacred.
We are all human. We are all flesh and blood, with people all around us that care for us and love us. I wonder constantly, why can two people not look at one another and just *understand* that concept? Inherently. It saddens me and brings tears to my eyes that such a simple concept can be ran out of town by ideological thinking and narrow-mindedness. Take two strangers from opposite ends of the spectrum, stick them in a cave with little light, and watch as they discover they are not so different...
I am not writing this post on behalf of none too fragile. That's why my name appears in the post title. And I am not writing this post to publicize the show. I am writing this post to express my sadness in regards to a situation which I admittedly do not fully understand. I am also writing this post to give those of you who have seen the show a forum to discuss, POLITELY, what you saw and how it made you feel. So, if you feel so-minded...discuss away in the comments below.
-Jaysen
none too fragile's current production, "How His Bride Came to Abraham," by Karen Sunde, finds itself smack-dab in the middle of a reality that we hadn't really considered when rehearsals began in October. Sure, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has been around forever, and yes, there's always a chance that something could go down like what has started to go down over the last couple of days. But it's pure happenstance that the fighting has ramped back up just as this show premiered.
I lay awake in bed Friday night thinking about this conflict, trying to get my head around why the killing continues. I lay awake, thinking about a picture I had seen earlier that day of a grandfather, his daughter, and her two seven-year-old sons...hunkered down in the street, backs against a concrete road barrier...waiting...to see...if they would still be breathing when the air-raid sirens ceased their mournful wail.
It's the children that have always got to me when I think of things like this. Most of the time children don't look afraid or scared. They just look...blank. Uncomprehending. It's the innocence of a child, and the naiveté, that allows that blank expression. It makes no sense to them why there are bombs dropping around them. Why are people yelling? Why are people screaming? There is no context to it, and so they do not understand it. To them, it's just loud sounds. Death is not near.
A child's mind is pure. The person next to them is just like he or she is. There are no boundaries with children. It's not until they are exposed to certain ideas that they begin to look upon this world with distrustful and suspicious eyes. It's not until later that the hate is instilled... And until then? It's a blank, un-comprehending expression.
Sabra and Abraham, raised to think each other a natural enemy, find some of that child-like innocence in that cave on none too fragile's stage, and the questions that discovery raises are what we might be pondering as we walk away.
Who is right? The Palestinians? The Israelis? The only thing I can tell you with 100% surety is that killing won't answer this question. It hasn't for 2,000 years, and it won't even if it continues for 10,000 more. So the question of who is right and wrong really is a worthless question in some ways, and "right or wrong" is not the point of Karen Sunde's script, or none too fragile's production of How His Bride Came to Abraham. The real question is how can we see that we are all the same, regardless of the God in our life, the land we live on, or the sites we consider sacred.
We are all human. We are all flesh and blood, with people all around us that care for us and love us. I wonder constantly, why can two people not look at one another and just *understand* that concept? Inherently. It saddens me and brings tears to my eyes that such a simple concept can be ran out of town by ideological thinking and narrow-mindedness. Take two strangers from opposite ends of the spectrum, stick them in a cave with little light, and watch as they discover they are not so different...
I am not writing this post on behalf of none too fragile. That's why my name appears in the post title. And I am not writing this post to publicize the show. I am writing this post to express my sadness in regards to a situation which I admittedly do not fully understand. I am also writing this post to give those of you who have seen the show a forum to discuss, POLITELY, what you saw and how it made you feel. So, if you feel so-minded...discuss away in the comments below.
-Jaysen
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