"We are actors, you and I."

To play a part and play it well is a task so inherently satisfying and fulfilling that the two hours of glory can make all the days of stress and rehearsals and the months of preparation worth it. I wonder sometimes how that can be. What is it that makes the dramatic arts so compelling that the actor will give up so much of himself, sacrificing so much time and effort—perhaps until his entire soul cries out in agony that this is too much—in order to produce a single performance? It is a strange thing: this way of the actor.

There are others who have put this far better than I and I daresay my thoughts have been much affected by what I have heard or read, even if I cannot credit all. At least I can say that my thoughts come partly from Kevin O'Brien of Theater of the Word, and partly perhaps from G.K. Chesterton, and partly too from J.R.R. Tolkien, and many others of which I may not even be aware.

It is in a sense an act of creation—or a participation in creation, what Tolkien called subcreation—or what one might call the incarnational aspect. For we actors embody what is beyond ourselves.

That I think is the thought—out of all the many thoughts surrounding this subject—that I would center upon. When an actor stands up to play his part, there may come a time when he realizes that what he is attempting to do is something so great that his ability may not match his vision, and he knows that he may well fail. That possibility of failure broods within, creating a vacuum of emptiness in which he might turn away or embrace its pain—like Christ in the garden—surrendering himself to a greater will than his own.

It is that risk that has often brought such great victories. One may speak of it as genius, or skill, but when cast in the brilliant light of faith, it is the witness of faith: an act of trust.

That risk brings a strange awareness: a feeling that at any moment we might fall. This feeling of discomfort is one from which every man in his right mind would wish to flee at once by instinct, and it is only the rational mind that restrains him. One might say that this is a necessary part of acting. I would have to add that it is a necessary part of life. For this is where humility comes in. It is pride that would have us do nothing except that which we knew we could do perfectly, relying only upon our own strength; humility is willing to take the risks, and to submit all to a greater good.

For we act not for ourselves only. If we did we should soon lose all desire for it. We cannot help it—whether we know it or not—that this embrasure of the life of an actor is for God inasmuch as whatever we do for the least of His brethren we do for Him. For an actor cannot escape that his life is one of service. No matter how much he may gain from it in fame or money or glory or pleasure, he cannot escape the fact that he acts for others to see, that he may communicate to them some beauty, some truth.

What we act may have profound influence upon us, as it did for Saint Genesius, bringing about his conversion to Christianity. And it is he whom I quoted as he spoke in the play "The Comedian" for the title of this post. Although I take this quote slightly out of context, I think it rings true: we are all actors, you and I. Even if we were never to set foot on a stage, everything we do is an act, and therefore because we act, we are actors.