My Theology of Theatre

11 min readFeb 5, 2017

“When you are the director of a play or musical you are the pastor of a church that worships according to the dictates of a holy scripture called The Script.”

The idea above was the first thought that began this essay and it came as the direct result of working under a director who was, by this definition, a blasphemous heretic.

I delayed posting the idea when it first came to me. This was partly for purposes of anonymity — letting that show and its director slide into the past so as not to be seen as specifically attacking anyone.

But as I thought further about the idea, I realized there was more to the analogy and I kept working on it. Most writers have had an idea that followed them around, pestering them to do something with it. This was like that. It followed me around and I chewed on it when I was doing other things. I also kept stumbling across others who had thought along these same metaphorical lines.

People have an idea that the preacher is an actor on a stage and they are the critics, blaming or praising him. What they don’t know is that they are the actors on the stage; he (the preacher) is merely the prompter, standing in the wings, reminding them of their lost lines. — ‪‎Søren Kierkegaard‬
The actor, as with all priestly people, stands before the truth and participates in its telling by way of their words and gestures, by enacting our sacred stories of redemption and love. In contemplating the birth of Christ, Garfield came to know something that other midwifing actors and mystics have known for a long time — that it is by our personification of love, by our humble service, that we become the love for which we long. — Brendan Busse, reporting on an interview with Andrew Garfield.
Storytelling is a trinitarian act that unites writer, text, and reader in a collage of understanding. ― Phyllis Trible

Fair warning to cynics. This is a bit of an idealistic love letter to theatre in specific and to the arts in general. After all, Theatre and the Church have a lot in common. And I have a great, and at times idealistic, affection for each of them.

Here we go…

Theism of Theatre

Many people jokingly assert that the existence of certain consumables are proof of God’s existence and benevolence. Cheese, or coffee, or wine, or beer, or bacon are often spoken of in this manner. I cannot affirm those biblically, but I will refrain from disputing them.

However, if a created, consumable thing could ever prove the existence of a creator, I think that thing would be theatre. No other beings do this. When we consume theatre we feed our lives in a unique way. The need of humans to create stories and our ability to create the arts (and sciences) required to portray those stories in theatre, demonstrates our uniqueness. That uniqueness supports the idea of a God who created us to be creators like him.

Theatre in it’s earliest forms was often religious in its purpose and subject matter. The gods theatre serves have changed, but it still retains its tinge of religious mission. The theatre community has a drive to share, to convince, to evangelize, to mobilize, to criticize, to provoke — this is part of its nature.

Theatre is not a religion but it is a sacred thing to me — not in the same way that my Christian faith is sacred but in its own unique way. Like other sacred things, there are those who don’t understand theatre and those who deny its sacredness. There are also those who defile it — at times through incompetence and other times willfully.

Part of the sacredness of theatre comes from the unity required to create it. As theatre is produced, many individuals and groups work in concert, taking on roles that fulfill sacred purposes. Authors, Directors, Production Staff, Actors, even the venue and the audience play their roles in the act of Theatre.

The Theater as a Sacred Space (for Theatre)

Anything can happen in a space called a “theater.” (With an “er” on the end.) You might see a film, hear a speech, rock out at a concert, attend a party, or even a hear a sermon. But any space — a garage, a backyard, or even a theater — can be transformed into a sacred space through the art of theatre. (With an “re” on the end.)

We don’t have many sacred spaces left in our crowded, connected world. Sacredness requires times of quietness and stillness. Part of the definition of sacredness is to be set aside and reserved. Participating in something sacred requires being observant and involved. You can’t do that while on a mobile device. People in our culture often don’t understand the concept of sacred space — either theatrical or spiritual.

The clash of our connected culture with the inherent sacredness of the spaces in which we create theatre can be tracked in story after story of cast members and theater staff confronting disrespectful audience members.

Artists and producers lecture and rant on media about it. Specific theaters and shows kick out audience members regularly — even confiscating devices and deleting photos and videos. Some performers have stopped performances to verbally and sometimes physically assault those who text, call, surf the web, or even just talk too loudly to those around them during a performance.

These extreme reactions don’t make sense until you remember that the space in which we create theatre is a sacred space. In any culture — including the culture of theatre artists — sacred spaces are protected with vigilance and sometimes even violence.

Theatre needs a sacred space because it relies upon shared belief bound up in a moment in time. The conventions of theatre are not just artistic techniques, but are social constructs of agreement and belief between the Players and audience.

Theatre — combining speech, music, movement, and dance — is transformative and ephemeral. It is presented in a physical space but truly exists as the shared experience of those watching it and performing it as it happens. Then it winks out of existence. Words, notes, blocking, and steps all may be written down, but they are merely descriptions of architecture, not the actual building. They are a recipe, but not the pie itself.

You may think, “Ahh, but I can record a play or musical on visual media, thus preserving it.” But that is not true.

When recorded on visual media, live theatre becomes film. It loses much of its power in the transition. Whatever its quality — its nature is changed. It is no longer theatre but film.

Film is a completely different art form with different conventions, rules, methods, and values. This is why even the best filming of a live performance pales in comparison to experiencing it. Film as an art form is not inferior to theatre, but filmed theatre is inferior to live theatre.

There is magic in the theatre that can’t be captured on celluloid or in pixels. The art of theatre only truly exists when it is shared. Shared breath, shared space, shared light, and shared sound — these are the sacred elements of theatre. Once they are no longer shared, the art ceases to exist until the next audience shuffles in and the curtain rises.

The Author as Deity

The best Authors create worlds for us to view. Producing their work means bringing the world they create into contact with our true world — the opening of the proscenium acting as a metaphysical portal. However, in this cosmos of theatre, there are many Creator-Authors — not all of them wise, or good, or benevolent. Directors and Players would do well to choose wisely whose work to bring to life and how to go about it.

The Author, most times, is distant and can only be known and experienced through the words on the page. However, sometimes the Author may be intimately involved in the creation of theatre — speaking or interacting personally with the Director and Players by answering questions, filling in gaps, and explaining the meaning of the script.

This can be annoying when you lose some freedom — you kinda have to do it the way the Author wants it. But it can also be immensely satisfying, knowing that you are getting to the heart and soul of the script by being able to collaborate directly with the Author.

The Author is the all-knowing creator of the world to be brought to life and if she is a wise, good, and benevolent Author, there will be no doubt or misdirection to lead true artists astray, provided they devote themselves fully to the study of the words the Author has given.

The Script as Holy Text

Ideally, the Script holds within itself all that any artist — whether a Director or a Player — needs to know to bring about the will of the Author. This is the doctrine of Sola Scriptura for the Theatre.

However, as previously stated, the Author/Deities of the Theatrical Cosmos are not all wise, good, or benevolent. Therefore the Scripts/Scriptures they give us are not inerrant and do not reveal their worlds or the will of the Author perfectly. They are as flawed as their creators.

But even an imperfect script, most of the time, holds the only revelation that we need.

It holds the very words which are to be spoken and the commands that are to be acted out.

It contains things to be proclaimed, things to be concealed until the right moment, things to be revealed, things to be built, things to be discovered, and things that only those with eyes to see will notice and those with ears to hear will understand.

Sharing in bringing the script to life is collectively more powerful for both the production team and the audience than simply reading it on its own. The Script can be simply read. But its purpose is not to be read, but to be breathed in and shared through action — to be brought to life. The Author didn’t create this world for artists to live in, for artists to live it out.

The Director as Priest

(and Production staff as ministers)

The Director of a play or musical is the pastor of a church that worships according to the dictates of a holy scripture called The Script. A Director, pledges himself, and his staff, to the service of connecting the Author to the audience through the service of the Players, who give their voices and bodies over to the purpose of living out The Script. The honorable and studious Director studies the Author and her work, to show himself worthy of her words and intent.

The Director speaks for the Author and connects the Players to her. This is important if the Author is not directly involved in the production. But if the Author is involved, then the Director’s priestly role is increased in importance. Now the Director also speaks to the Author on behalf of the Players. He stands between them, mediating any differences of opinion and clarifying any points of miscommunication. However, the Director ultimately must adopt and contend for the Author’s vision and viewpoint, using that viewpoint to guide the production.

The Director is not only the leader of the Players, but of the Production Staff — the designers, the stage managers, the technicians, the stage hands. These are the ministerial staff of this church, led by the Director. They enable and make possible the work of the Players with their own contributions — supporting the Players, while remaining in the background and as invisible as it is possible for them to be.

The Director’s work is to guide others to do theirs — Production Staff and Players. He shows others how to live out the words of the Author, to ensure that the meaning of the Author’s words is carried to the audience in every tiniest action of the Players, and each smallest detail of the production’s design.

The Director and Production Staff don’t usually do the work of acting, but guide it and make it possible. They don’t make the audience cry or laugh, but inspire and support the portrayal of both sorrow and humor.

The Players as Adherents

Actors are the last people in the chain of production that deliver the theatrical experience to the audience. Because of this, Actors are the most obvious representation of the show and — whatever the results of a production — they typically get most of the credit and/or blame.

An Author or a Director may pour his or her soul into a production, but what the audience sees is the Players. When you experience the show, it is Actors’ voices you hear and it is their faces and bodies you see. They literally represent the work with their physical being, so it makes sense for them to be most strongly associated with the success or failure of a production.

At their best, actors are attuned to the Author, the Script, the Director, their fellow Players, and the audience in each moment. The individual actors in a company operate as one connected whole, trusting each other to do their parts reliably and react to changes that occur from night to night. They make each moment — each truth — new and revelatory for the audience, even as they make each moment predictable and consistent for their fellow Players.

The Players literally give over their bodies, voices, and selves to live out the words of the script. They take on the infirmities and the strengths of their characters. They give their voices to speak what must be spoken, and give everything else to say without words what is written, but never meant to be spoken.

Holy Endeavors by Unholy People

Theatre and the Church have this in common — they are holy endeavors undertaken by unholy people. In some cases it is a miracle that anything wonderful ever comes out of them.

Through humor, tragedy, drama, slapstick, song and dance, romance, and horror — Theatre preaches, prophecies, and encourages.

The uniqueness of humanity shines brightly on theatre’s stage. It is there that we do things that no other beings do for reasons no other beings would. Our inner drive to create, to communicate, to commune, and to seek beauty and truth is, to me, the single greatest proof that there is such a thing as truth, that beauty has greater significance than evolutionary advantage, and that community is something more important than companionship.