The audience is separated from the actor by a curtain.
Theatres have curtains churches usually don’t.
Curtains open to reveal a story and they close when a story has been accomplished.
Theatre curtains are heavy and thick, made of black or dark red non-reflective material like velvet. Needless to say, you can’t see through a curtain, they are designed to cover the stage, the set, the actor and the light.
Temples also have curtains. From scripture we learn that the ancient Isrealites would use a curtain to separate the inner court of the temple from the place known as “the holy of holies.” There was a curtain because of a story. This story involved every person from every race and nationality and every other living thing in all creation. In particular, it involed an unblemished lamb that was killed for this story. Behind this curtain was the Actor who is the Director who is the Writer who is I AM and a stage; the only place on earth a God would inhabit. The curtain was designed to to hide all of this from us, the ones who have come to participate in the story. We could not go behind the curtain because Death guarded the proceenium. There were times when people would cross over but only when they had wrapped themselves in the death of an innocent lamb. This is the story and this was the story until there occured a eucatastrophe; a miracle.
The Actor who is the Director who is the Writer who is I AM moved. He came from behind the curtain and sat in the seat next to us. Even though this was a great honor, we were completely unaware of this presence, no one seemed to recognize him. However, he did not come to merely sit with us and watch. He came to open the curtain… for good.
He walked toward the proceenium without carrying a sacrifice. We watched. He reached for the curtain and Death struck him. We watched. He bled. We watched. He took a fist full of fabric and Death did the same. They pulled and we watched the thick, heavy, dark curtain tear from top to bottom. The force of it shook the earth. The glory of the stage covered in blood reflected a blinding light and the story both began and was accomplished in the same moment.
The story that ended was a tragedy where the characters struggled alone with their demons. The story that began is a comedy where estranged lovers finally reunite and all things are made new.
I’m beginning to see curtains more often now, those places designed to hide God and his story, some of them hang there because of me and I could easily let the guilt of it cripple me. However, I AM has called my name, He stands with his hand stretched toward me; inviting me to grab a handful of fabric…and pull.
