A Reflection

It is also a privilege for me to take part in this dedication for I knew well Ruth’s deep, abiding, passionate, love and concern for things of the theater. As in all art, music, poetry, drama, comedy there is the constant call Ruth recognized in her inimitable way to stretch the imagination, to dare to engage in visions, if you will, of the supernatural. If we confuse the supernatural with the fantastic, we may dismiss these visions and those who confess them as mental deficient. Fantasy need have no basis in reality; fantasy can be entirely imaginary, unconstrained by fact. But the supernatural is always grounded in reality. In order for a thing to be supernatural, it must at least be natural at the core. And so, an experience of the supernatural is not a flight into impossibility or unreality, but is rather an encounter with nature surpassing our common experience.

As people of God, we are invited--even commanded--to embrace the supernatural as a gift; I think the gift of God. We are invited to experience the world and everything in the world not only for what it is, but for what it reveals beyond itself. Artists, poets, dramatists, writers, even preachers, attempt to convey this. But I, like most, tend to charge through each day, moving from task to task and place to place with a determined and narrow focus. As I rush through the day I take the sky above and the beautiful sunsets of autumn for granted, I find the placidly flowing Delaware River which I know Ruth enjoyed, I find it little more than a navigational aid orienting my forays into the city; and I tend to see people there either as obstacles to or instruments of larger designs and activities. Sad to say, such behavior is natural. As the gospel frequently reminds us, it is our natural tendency to prefer darkness, or in this case to constrain our living to this shadow world wherein skies, the water, the people, and everything else given to us by God are experienced only opaquely.

But, to experience the sky, the waters, and even other people as transparent, light-bearing gifts is to have a supernatural experience, an experience well beyond the common experience of our basest nature. Looking into the faces of friends, new and old, we can see far more that we had ever noticed before. Gazing at the sky, the river, the city and those who inhabit its streets, we see them as though for the first time. It is then that I appreciate the experience of the artist, the poet, the dramatist, the visionary whose clarity of vision illuminates my own.

Our busyness is our best excuse for ignoring the world. It is easier to rush through the days, to focus narrowly on the task, to retreat into the confines of our material world, safely bounded by flat, familiar planes. Perhaps that is why we recoil somewhat from the supernatural, for an encounter with the supernatural is risky. In the open depth of the sky and river--or another person’s eyes-- we risk engagement with the living God.

I am sure that when you who carry on the tradition of the Footlighters Ruth was so much a part of for so many years, you will not think of your work in precisely these terms as you paint sets, mop the floor, bang your fingers as you hammer nails to construct sets, scrape your shins on furniture that doesn’t quite fit the set, or find the director less than pleased with your memory lapses in both dialogue and blocking. No matter how you think of the mechanics of your craft, your vision, your imagination, your offering helps those of us who participate by our presence in seeing the world not only as it is but frequently as it can be, beyond its limited confines of stage and set, into the supernatural that may help to shape our community, our life together. Ruth, in her profound love of all that the theater best represents, left a legacy and a mark. That mark will be recalled as each new project is cast, put into production, performed and its title appears on this sign.