When I was in high school, in my very first show, our director huddled the cast together backstage before the show. The lights were dim, and we stood shoulder to shoulder. In the midst of nervous trembling, lingering hairspray, and tightly held hands, he spoke to us.

"Act well your part, for therein all the honor lies," he said.

Since then, that phrase has stuck with me: a small hologram illuminating the many facets of why I believe theater and the arts to be worthwhile, necessary elements of society. There is no such thing as a small role, the old mantra goes. The person with the most lines may tend to grab the most attention, but they'll look silly if the costume crew hasn't done their work, and no one will pay attention to anything if the lights won't turn on. Every role, every person is integral, and we rely on all those people to give our own work meaning and dimension.

Theater continues the natural human tradition of storytelling. We live and understand our lives through stories; we see each other as people. We hold the pieces of our humanity in our hands and we say, "What does this mean? What do we do with all this?" In the same way that a scientist is driven by questions, so too are artists. Art is a problem-solving methodology. We come to the theater to see people doing things we can't, or won't, do. And, collectively and individually, we look at the narratives of our cultures, and we identify issues, and we celebrate triumphs, and we deplore our failings. Art is not good because it entertains or pleases, although this is not insubstantial. Art is good because it asks us to grow in empathy. Art asks us to listen. 
 

When we have empathy for others, when we listen to each others' stories, when we understand our responsibility to the people around us, when we have the permission and the courage to tell our own stories, we have acted well our part. And therein, all the honor lies.