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2000/08 -
Signs of Civilization
Ecumenimania Passion play wrestles with political correctness; Romans lose
By Cynthia Haven Last fall, Hüeseyin Pekhamarat, A Turkish-born custodian at the public school in Oberammergau, Germany, applied for a maintenance job behind the scenes at the village's famous Passion play. Director Christian Stückl made an astonishing counteroffer: He invited 36-year-old Pekhamarat to perform as one of the play's 65 Roman soldiers. The wholly unexpected invitation made Pekhamarat the first Muslim ever to participate in the Passion in its 366-year history. "I was skeptical, but he told me if there was any problem I should go to him," recalls the slight, genial Pekhamarat, who emigrated to Germany as a young boy. The problems, of course, had been ongoing for decades: The Passionsspiele--perhaps the largest amateur theatrical in the world, with 2,200 villagers performing--has been under increasing attack in recent decades for its anti-Semitic overtones. For years, locals had responded that they were only retelling the story of the Gospels. Well, not quite. Selected biblical passages have been embroidered, stressed, and downplayed through the centuries, and Baroque and 18th-century adaptations have been woven into the play's obscure medieval design. This year's version, which runs through October 8, shows 21st-century patterns as well. The play has become a civic expression as well as a religious one: Pekhamarat emphasized that, as a 30-year denizen of the Alpine village, he had a "right" to perform. And in sympathy with Jewish objections, the new Passion stresses not Jewish culpability but the pluralistic politics of first-century Jerusalem. (Pilate takes much of the rap--after all, who wants to identify with a defunct empire?) However, the directors have not scrapped all implications that Christianity trumps the legacy of Judaism, nor have they acceded to eccentric requests to exclude the crucifixion itself. Oberammergau's revisionism raises a number of serious questions about the real religious schisms hidden beneath the trendy interfaith gestures. At what point do goodwill concessions risk compromising essentials, leading to a sort of religious Esperanto? Does tolerance mean accommodation, or a gritty acceptance of differences? For the present, the Passionsspiele still works tremendously onstage. In sweep and simplicity, it remains unique in the canon of world theater. But perhaps next time around the organizers could resolve the practical questions the same way Peter Sellars does opera: They could set the Passion in Tokugawa's Japan, for example, or Beowulf's Scandinavia.
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