Finding My Mother Through 'Godspell' After 26 Years Without Her

When I was in elementary school, "Godspell," which turns 50 this year, first made its debut. I went to Lutheran school and there was a record player in our classroom and our teacher would play the album at lunchtime.

The show was a bond I shared with my mother — a show we saw together nine times on Broadway, a bridge during the stormy teen years through which we found our way back to one another. And then, the show was one of the last things we talked about before I lost her, on a hot August day when I was 29 years old.

Now, "Godspell" is back — the first Equity-sanctioned musical performing during the pandemic, a ray of hope rising from the ashes of Broadway theaters darkened for months due to the coronavirus.

The show, presented by the Berkshire Theatre Group, is a brilliantly staged, socially distant model of the future of theater that has all eyes in the entertainment world watching, and audiences heading to sit under a tent in Pittsfield, MA to see the wonder unfold — during the same month that I marked the anniversary of my mother's death.

It is, quite literally, a miracle, in so many ways.

When I was 12, my mother decided to surprise me. She told me she was taking me to Broadway — to see "Godspell." I remember what I wore. It was a gray dress, jumper style, with cap sleeves and a striped top attached underneath. I was beside myself. Broadway! My mother always believed in first row, center seats. We sat in the first row, and I was captivated.

At one point, the characters made aluminum foil crowns for a scene and tucked them beside the steps by the stage; they gave one to me to take home. Also, back in the day, they allowed the audience onto the stage for a tiny sip of wine, and my mother, at one of the later shows when I was a teenager, let me taste wine for the first time.

As she lay dying, hospice hovering at the edges of her once so private house, we talked about rumors that "Godspell" was coming back to Broadway.

"I won't be able to go with you," she said. "But when it comes back, I want you to be there." And so, when the Broadway revival came a few years ago, I went, both alone and with my son. Our precious tradition, continued.

The show is timeless — and it's fitting that with Broadway theaters dark and audiences yearning for the arts and a return to normalcy, "Godspell" would be the first light in the proverbial world.

"Godspell," a show about the gospel according to St. Matthew, originally conceived and directed by John-Michael Tebelak, with music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz, takes on new meaning during a time when the world has been faced with challenges far beyond anything imaginable in collective lifetimes.

This new "Godspell" is a stunning and masterful production. Directed by Alan Filderman and choreographed by Gerry McIntyre, the show is very much a testament to the new normal.

Rather than the traditional "Tower of Babble" prologue, with the cast singing about the divergent beliefs of well-known philosophers, the show spotlights the actors — all socially distanced behind plexiglass and wearing masks — speaking about the stark reality of lives literally stopped by a virus that has sent them spiraling from giddy heights of planned Broadway tours back to living at their parents' homes and scrambling for work, dreams derailed.

The cast references the "Black Lives Matter" movement, adding that the word "master" might be better left unsaid in the dialogue moving forward.

Another actress describes how, when in the past she felt afraid, she would find solace in her mother's arms, enveloped in a warm hug. Something she can't do now.

The words, aching with pain and loss, confusion and shock, reverberate and are made even more powerful by the stark stage, where actors stand distanced — where they cannot hug, touch, or even sing near one another. Where once there was face paint, there are now face masks. Where the traditional "Godspell" parables would play out with the actors frolicking like a pack of so many giddy puppies, this cast must tell the story of Jesus' life in a new, isolated, far-from-one-another way.

And yet, they couldn't be more unified.

Because at the heart of this show is the fact that every single one of these actors and crew members, every person involved, made the fierce and brave decision to tell this story, to keep theater alive, in the midst of a pandemic, fears swirling.

Every single one worked tirelessly to ensure that the choreography was skillfully executed in a safe way, that the actors were protected, that audiences would undergo temperature checks at the door and sit far apart in a space on a city street surrounded by a chain link fence, a fence so much like the fence that adorned the stage in the original Broadway production.

In the original Broadway production, as Jesus cried out, "Oh, God, I'm dying," the cast tore at that chain link fence, writhing and climbing in agony, screaming, begging for a way to escape the inevitable.

In this show, when Jesus, played with sensitivity and so much compassion by Nicholas Edwards, enacts the crucifixion scene, he is alone, with a flutter of red petals falling to the ground, hauntingly symbolizing his very life ebbing away.

The disciples, each encased in their own space during the crucifixion scene, use their bodies and faces, choreographed in pain, to express their torment. They convey the raw emotion just as effectively — and in many ways, even more so — as casts did in past productions, because they are working so hard to breathe new life into the show, to bring this critical message of hope even in the darkest of times.

Isn't that what "Godspell" has always been about? The words, from "Beautiful City," written by Stephen Schwartz, are even more powerful in this new world rocked by a pandemic: "Out of the ruins and rubble, Out of the smoke, Out of our night of struggle, Can we see a ray of hope?"

In fact, that song is what echoes throughout the open-air space as the show draws to a close. Rather than carrying Jesus off the stage, he leaves alone. The cast, rather than clasping hands and embracing, continues their singular journeys alone, yet still singing of a beautiful new city, one they can build together with hope and love. And faith.

"Godspell" has endured 50 years as the world has faced so many turbulent times, including 9/11. The World Trade Center, where the actors danced at the top of the sparkling new building in the film version of the show, gone. But despite a world ripped by terrorism, war and anger, fear and despair, the message of hope has always risen, as it does in this production, a symbol that together, with love, mankind can move forward. Even at a time when the entire world is isolated, "Godspell" was the first show to be resurrected, to lead the way into a new future.

Make no mistake. Even in a show stripped of its props and clown-like innocence, a show where there is no wine and there are no aluminum foil crowns, there is humor and light and energy.

"Godspell" has always been a show marked by creative ad libbing and riffs on contemporary headlines. In this new iteration, hand sanitizer and sourdough bread references abound; the pandemic looms large. In "All for the Best," Jesus and Judas using a measuring stick to be sure they are appropriately distanced while delighting with the traditional soft shoe choreography, executed to perfection.

There are beautiful additions with inclusivity and diversity celebrated, such as "Day by Day" sung in both English and Spanish, and sign language during "All Good Gifts." With innovative vision, "Turn Back Oh Man" is now sung by Zach Williams, and it breaks down boundaries and shatters preconceived notions.

Kimberly Immanuel, in her "Learn Your Lessons Well," is a burst of infectious energy and pure joy as she tap dances furiously and brings the best of "Godspell" past and present to the proverbial table.

Timothy L. Jones as "Judas" brings a haunting pain to his inevitable betrayal.

When Alex Getlin sings "By My Side" in perhaps the most astoundingly beautiful rendition ever, bar none, her voice is a riveting, emotional testament to all that's been lost, both on the stage and in the world. And yet, standing alone, her hand pressed up against the partition, her powerhouse voice speaks for all of us who have ever had to somehow survive in the face of unthinkable grief. Who somehow find the strength to stand up, to carry on, to go forward, alone, into a new future that's frightening and unknown.

For me, this "Godspell" is deeply personal. And although I sometimes find it hard to believe in such things, it feels overwhelmingly like a sign. A message from my mother — that the ones we love are never really gone at all. That in every note of every song we loved so much that rings out with purity in this production, in the darkness of this lonely time, she is with me, still.

Over the years, I've been lucky enough to meet Stephen Schwartz. I told him right after 9/11 just how much "Beautiful City" meant to me in those dark, awful days and he invited me to a haunting, beautiful performance in a church that he gave, as the ruins smoked downtown. He sang "Beautiful City" that night, and there was hope.

I've made some of my most treasured friends doing "Godspell." And I've shared it with my own child.

But it really will also always still be a bond that brings memories of my mother, all dressed up and holding my hand as we headed into the theater.

August 22 marked 26 years since I lost her, that deceptively blue August day when the world kept turning as my heart stood still.

I have to believe it is a sign from my mother.

I have to believe she knows about this show.

And I have to believe that it is her message to me, that just as "Godspell" could triumph and live on despite the complete game-changing reality of a global pandemic — so, too, her love for me will live on forever and carry me through.

"Godspell" recently saw its run extended at the BTG through September 20.

The cast features Nicholas Edwards, Tim Jones, Hanna Koczela, Alex Getlin, Najah Hetsberger, Kimberly Immanuel, Isabel Jordan, Emily Koch, Brandon Lee, Dan Rosales, Michael Wartella, and Zach Williams. The show is choreographed by Gerry McIntyre, with musical direction by Andrew Baumer.

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