I have always been connected to theatre throughout my life. The pinnacle of this for me was when I was commissioned to write and perform a piece based on my novel Flying in Silence for the Sydney Opera House. Four writers and four musicians were paired together in an evening of reflections on migration and language entitled In Four Four. 

My own work, The Language Ghosts, delved into the perils and pleasures of translation. As an administrator, I’ve had the pleasure of actually building a number of theatre spaces both in Australia and Canada. As a professor I’ve had the honour of working with some of the great playwrights of Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. 

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Way back, as an undergraduate student at McGill, I was compelled as part of my program to direct and perform in a number of plays. The oddest moment was having the lead role in Eugene Ionesco’s absurdist play Rhinoceros where the cues were so random that in one performance I unintentionally skipped to the middle of the play, and everyone followed suit. As a result, night two ran 20 minutes shorter than opening night. And no one noticed! In fact, as my father wryly (and perhaps unkindly) pointed out, the audience was probably relieved.

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Another area of my career that has been incredibly fulfilling has been community theatre in its many forms. Here I’ve been able to work with circus performers, Indigenous artists, charity talent shows and so many more. One highlight for me was during my presidency at St. Mary’s University in Calgary where every Christmas we partnered with L’Arche so their members could perform the Nativity Scene. Watching our student volunteers support the young actors, some of whom were non-verbal, was a thing of beauty, resulting in the most meaningful standing ovation I’ve ever witnessed. The light of Christ shines through these moments. 

Not surprisingly, Passion Plays have also been a large part of my field of interest. Since medieval times, Passion Plays have recreated the suffering, death and the resurrection of Jesus. Over the years I’ve seen countless interpretations of this sacred tradition, sometimes minimalist in design and presentation, at other times elaborately staged, with period costumes, and exquisite sets. One of my favourites is the famous Alberta Badlands retelling of the Passion, performed on the largest outdoor stage in the world in the remarkable, prehistoric Drumheller landscape. The carrying of the Cross alone, through a landscape that mirrors Golgotha, is a moment of epic, heartbreaking intensity.

Perhaps the most famous example of this type of theatre is the Oberammergau Passion Play. According to historical records, in 1633 the citizens of Oberammergau, Germany, suffering beneath a devastating plague, swore to perform the passion play every 10 years if God spared them. After the plague subsided, in 1634, the first performance was held, and it has continued virtually uninterrupted ever since. The next scheduled performance, incidentally, is in 2030. If that’s too long to wait, it’s fair to say that there are Passion Play performances in virtually every nation of the western world.

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As a child I never quite understood why we referred to the ultimate sorrowful time as the Passion of Christ. Like many I associated that word with romance and Hallmark cards. In fact though, the word ‘passion’ comes from the Latin passio, which means enduring or suffering. The Passion Plays retell the story, so poignantly captured in the Sorrowful Mystery of the Rosary, of the agony in the Garden all the way through to the crucifixion. But the Sorrowful Mystery, as we all know, transitions into the Glorious Mystery, a decade that celebrates Christ’s resurrection and ascension into Heaven. 

The Passion Play, one could argue, reveals a sacred Truth — with a conclusion that is anything but somber. Yes, it traces one of the darkest chapters in human history, but it is redeemed by Divine goodness for the sake of all. That, I believe, deserves an encore.