Theatre Lessons Part II: The Pain of Paradox
It has been awhile since my first post on my reflections on being in The Prince of Egypt's stage version in February, and I become more and more convinced that it was no coincidence that it became our show for this year, and that I was able to take part in it as I wrestle (and continue to) through my very messy interior life and spiritual exodus. As human beings, we often find it difficult to hold seemingly polar opposite things simultaneously: Justice and mercy. Kindness and boundaries. Joy and grief. Life and death. I love the movie's and stage version's portrayal of Moses' and the Pharaoh's relationship as adoptive siblings, even though the actual book of Exodus does not explicitly say they were. They have a deep, brotherly bond until Moses returns from his self-imposed exile after killing an Egyptian, and tells Ramses to free the enslaved Hebrews. What follows is an intense moral conflict between the brothers. They love each other as family, but find that their values are now at odds with one another. Moses is called by God to liberate the Hebrew slaves. Ramses refuses. God intervenes by sending nine devastating plagues, with the tenth taking all the firstborn in Egypt...including Pharaoh's own son.
As we know, this is the catalyst for Ramses to finally free the Hebrews.
What I love about this adaptation is that it portrays the conflicting emotions Moses experiences in the midst of doing God's will. Moses knows what is right and true: that his people deserve to be treated with dignity through liberation from slavery, and be free to worship the Lord. Yet it pains him to bring about the cost of this freedom: the destruction of the Egyptians, and the death of his relationship with his brother.
Even if the historical Pharaoh and Moses were not adoptive brothers, I can imagine the latter would still feel conflicted with his role in forcing the hand of Egypt to do God's bidding, especially if it meant devastating consequences for human beings. It would rather be inhuman not to feel at least some compassion for terrible suffering being inflicted on--more or less--innocent people (stay tuned for a third post on this). This is why participants during the Passover Seder dip their finger into their cups of wine to remove ten drops: a reminder that the plagues were nothing joyous, even as they brought the children of Israel's freedom.
In the stage musical, Pharaoh's wife sings the deeply mournful Heartless, after the death of their son--a song which surprisingly hurt my heart for some reason. For the majority of the show, she is a callous, entitled woman, who seems incapable of having empathy. But in losing her child, she admits that she "can't be heartless."
Immediately following this tear-jerker of a song, is another tear-jerker number--but for the opposite reason-- the famous "When You Believe". This is the moment when the Hebrews receive the news of their liberation and sing their song of triumph and praise to the Lord. I was quite struck by this juxtaposition, or whiplash: grief and rejoicing; anguish and elation. One side's profound and devastating loss is directly tied to another's well-deserved celebration and joy.
It might seem cruel to us to hold seemingly contradictory things at once as we journey through life. However, in a fallen world, it is inevitable.
People and situations are rarely completely black or white. Most of us have a mixture of both good and evil within ourselves. This is a very difficult concept to grasp, especially when someone does something scandalous, and they're immediately branded as a monster. It's not to say that there are no completely evil things people do, and that these shouldn't be dealt with to the fullest extent of justice. Rather it's to recognize that we are very complex creatures, and that there are layers to every situation. Life doesn't always fit into cookie-cutter, textbook example categories. We can certainly judge actions, but can we really know truly the state of a person's soul?
True colors revealed
At the beginning of the movie/stage show, Ramses and Moses have a deep, brotherly relationship as I mentioned. However, when it came time to do what was commanded by God--free the enslaved Hebrews--Ramses turned against Moses. It can be jarring when we realize that something that we thought was good and beautiful turns sour and destructive. In fact, we see this play out in the Scriptures themselves: generations before Moses is born, Joseph, son of Jacob, brings his people to Egypt and saves them from famine. The Israelites thrive in this foreign land for a few hundred years, before a new Pharaoh arises and enslaves them.
Relationships, places, and circumstances can be beneficial for us for a season. This is why we feel so disoriented or experience a cognitive dissonance when we experience betrayal: this person was a family member, a dear friend, etc....how could they stab us in the back like this? However, things which eventually turn sour often have a faulty foundation from the beginning which we do not initially perceive.
The people of Israel needed a place that had an abundance of food in a time of famine, and were able to settle in for a time and be accepted by the Egyptians. What they likely did not take into account was its pagan culture: one that worshipped demonic beings, encouraged depraved behavior, and overall did not respect the dignity of the human person. Eventually, this was going to rear its ugly head against the people who belonged to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. In The Prince of Egypt, this system and mindset is so entrenched in the heart of Ramses that it tragically overpowers his natural moral compass and the love he has for his adoptive brother. Hence, why God brought Israel out of Egypt and gave them the Law: to help them know the truth and live it. But even this was not enough to completely reconcile humanity to Him. Only the perfect obedience of His Son Incarnate could.
The Tension of the Both/And
Multiple things can be true at once, and coexist. In these last few months, I have learned to hold seemingly opposed things simultaneously, and be okay with it; to be gentle with and assure myself that this is normal. A combination of reflection on past experience, informal education, therapy, and prayer have helped tremendously. Paradox is ultimately the heart of the Christian Faith. There are three Divine Persons, yet one God. Christ is fully God and fully man, born of a virgin. By His death on the cross death is destroyed and we gain eternal life. These things are not opposed to each other as one might think. Our finite minds simply cannot completely grasp these mysteries. Yet the paradoxes in our lives, I believe, can lead us to better understand these divine truths...if only we let them. And in receiving these divine truths in faith, we are able to accept and surrender these tensions to the Lord, allowing Him to redeem the pain.
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