Hats off to the woman who played the Mary-role - it was probably only 10 minutes, but her gut-wrenching sorrow had us all crying by the end of it. I mean... she really got us to realize how tragic Christ's death was on a human level. It was a solo monologue of a mother watching her son suffer and die. It was crushing.
And The Man. My goodness. Okay, first let me explain. The entire service was kinda artsy-fartsy modern, with a static set (a platform, some plants, and a loooooong roll of scarlet cloth hanging from ceiling to floor) and very focused lighting. And while there was a small rotating cast that played different roles and did different readings all the way through, there was one Man. He leapt onstage in the beginning and basically stayed onstage throughout, isolated from the rest of the cast, with the cloth. I can't describe how exquisite it is to watch a really talented male dancer perform the Christ-role - struggle and pain and death. It was goosebumpy electric. And sometimes all he was doing was sitting still, half-tangled in red cloth, while a song was being sung, or a passage of scripture read, or a candle extinguished. Absolutely magnetic. It was exquisite.
I feel incredibly grateful for a church that truly embraces the idea that "church" isn't just a bunch of songs and a sermon and a prayer, but true worship and love for God can be expressed in a variety of ways - from feeding the hungry to visual art... hymns and techno beats.