Becoming Jane*

*I actually have yet to see that movie. I have an inexplicable, irrational aversion to Anne Hathaway. The Intern was pretty awesome, though.

Thursday marked opening night of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice in the AACI. I decided in August to audition for the play, my first foray into straight, non-musical acting, for I was in desperate need of a project.

After the callback, where the director had me read for virtually every female part, I was quite surprised when I heard the news: I’d been casted as Jane Bennet — the eldest, prettiest (I quote strictly from the show), and in my opinion at the time, blandest daughter of the five.

Yes, I am well aware that the above statement puts me at risk for a virtual siege of hateful comments. But I still stand by my notion that Ms. Austen wrote the character of Jane mostly as a foil to Elizabeth’s judgmental tendencies, making her sweet and optimistic to a fault, with no real depth or complexity.

I felt very honored to have been chosen for the role, but I was also puzzled: It had been, to my feeling, my weakest reading. I didn’t connect with Jane at all. What had they seen in me that convinced them my clumsy, slouching, cynical, non-existent-poker-face self could play the proper, demure, cheerful, quiet and hopeful Jane Bennet?

I took on the challenge, hoping to gain some insight on the inner workings of the character, and why she acted as she did. I tried to find a way to connect with her, to make her more approachable.

At one character development rehearsal, the director and I raised the question: Is Jane really that naïve?

And now, forgive me, but I will have to delve into some of my very possibly misremembered and misinterpreted learning of Rabbi Nachman of Breslau’s teachings, a course I took in my second year studying Jewish Thought.

A recurring theme we discussed throughout the semester was Reb Nachman’s approach to belief in God. At one point we read something along the lines of Kant’s antinomies: That one living in this world must come to the logical conclusion that an almighty God created it. On the other hand, it is perfectly plausible to understand that God does not exist (I am ill qualified to go into the Lurian-Kabbalistic basis for this idea, but a very brief and botched way to put it is that in order for the world to exist, there have to be spaces where the infinite God extracts himself, in order to make room for the finite world).

In the face of this irreconcilable dilemma, Reb Nachman posits that belief in God is a conscious choice. He recognizes atheism as a legitimate response to the world’s inherent inconsistencies and evils, and yet he chooses to take the path of faith in God.

One of my favorite professors during my Bachelor’s said that all great philosophers really only had one idea. All works of each thinker are merely different representations and manifestations of that one central thought.

With regard to Reb Nachman, I should like to think that his idea of a conscious choice of faith despite the likely possibility of heresy comes across in all his teachings. More specifically, I’d like to address his approach to judging people favorably. In Likutei Moharan, Torah 282, Reb Nachman posits that one must always look for one merit by which to judge a person, even if he is seemingly rotten to the core. Once you find the slightest bit of good in that person, the evil within him all but evaporates.

And how true is that in our day-to-day lives? Sort of like how when you abhor someone, they become more ugly, but a person who grows in your favor becomes a supermodel in your eyes?

I suppose in all of us there is that inherent good versus evil. And it is entirely plausible for me to see some people as animalistic, horrible wastes of plasma, undeservingly consuming my water and air. And in these distressed times, when just deciding which bus to travel on can be a matter of life and death, only seeing that evil is an all-too-logical option.

On Thursday, I left campus on the 30 bus to get to the show. Sure enough, as we approached Damascus Gate, traffic slowed to a near halt as my ears were accosted by wailing sirens, ambulances trying to get through. Yet another stabbing, just five minutes before. Can there be any justification for a person, any person, to attempt murdering another person in the street?

That option to tend towards my inner-cynicism is all-too-enticing. And yet, when I look at myself and the world around me, the option of living in that hatred and fear and disbelief is completely impossible for me. I have made a conscious choice to believe in God, and in human beings, created in His image. And there is no forgiveness for violence and terror, which only serves as a vicious cycle, bringing out in all of us that anger and hatred and pain.

But, maybe, there is an option to rise above it. And here I cringe at the sugary stickiness of it all. Yet, that corny notion is really quite simple. I can choose to be sad and distrusting, or I can be friendly and smile and wish strangers a good day.

The other morning I walked up the escalator, humming “Uncle John’s Band.”

Behind me, a young woman in a Hijab looked at me quizzically as we headed in the same direction. Me, with no concept of appropriate volume: “Whoa-oh, what I want to know-oh-oh, is are you kind?”

We both went down the stairs to Rachel’s for a morning coffee. And I kept singing to myself, and she looked at me with these gray eyes and a massive smile.

Our cappuccinos came, and we each shuffled to the end of the counter for sugar and cinnamon. I passed her a lid for her cup. And once again, that gigantic smile.

And at the moment, she was the loveliest woman in the world. And at that moment, life was only goodness, the aroma of fresh caffeine.

My interpretation of Jane Bennet is a conscious choice of naïveté. To all the die-hard Pride and Prejudice fans coming to see the show, I will not be offended if you find this ludicrous or say to yourself, to paraphrase Mel Brooks, “What she did to Austen Booth did to Lincoln!”

Well then, that was quite the lengthy rant. I will only conclude by wishing, as we approach the first night of Hanukkah, that we may see each other in the best light, even when darkness taunts us to succumb.