Absence as Presence: Our Journey to Poland and Some Scattered Thoughts

I buttoned up emotionally for our research trip to Poland. We went to meet playwright Tadeusz Słobodzianek and to explore the real locations where the events of "Our Class" took place – Jedwabne, Auschwitz, and other sites where history's darkness lives. I was preparing our production and knew I needed to see these places, to feel them. I braced myself for the wave of grief, for something overwhelming to hit me.

...and nothing.

It ultimately did hit, but not how I expected.

A Jew, a Pole, and a German walking into Poland—sounds like a bad joke, right? But there we were: me, playwright Tadeusz, and Jan Pappelbaum from Berlin's Schaubühne and our scenographer, searching for the ghosts of history.

In Lublin, Tadeusz stopped us on a hill. "This was the capital of Jewish life before the war," he said. "90% Jewish. A Jewish university here." He pointed down: "There it is."

I looked. A parking lot. Nothing else.

Not a plaque, not a memorial—just absence. And this absence crushed me more than any monument could have.

Anti-semitism is a light sleeper. It dozes beneath the surface until difficult events happen, then it wakes, stretches, and rises. One day people play soccer together; the next day, one half burns the other half. These aren't mystical Nazis from far away—they're neighbors, classmates, friends.

Reading journals from pogrom survivors, I found something mind-boggling: many wouldn't leave their towns even after attacks. When asked why, one woman simply said: "We thought it couldn't get worse."

I don't believe in teaching lessons of the past. If they worked, we wouldn't be in today's world. Our play isn't about what happened—it's about what will happen with people like us.

That's why in "Our Class," we constantly erase and rewrite our chalk wall, just like history itself. Tragedy lives in the mundane. It can happen at Starbucks. It's not separated from us by an ocean—it's us, it's people, it's me.

You know, I never thought I'd become a "Jewish director." In theater school, there was always this sentiment about not becoming a "type" of director, and I actually agree with it. You don't want to box yourself in. Exploring different worlds informs your outlook in the most unexpected ways.

So when someone first asked if I was a Jewish director, my Pavlov's dog response was negative. Like, no, I'm just a director who happens to be Jewish. But given where we are now, given what's happening in the world, given the last three plays I produced—yes, I am a Jewish director. And I'm okay with it. For now, this is where I need to be.

"Our Class" runs June 13-22 at the Calderwood Pavilion in Boston with international star Chulpan Khamatova. Tickets @ BostonTheatreScene.com "A visionary theater maker never thought he’d be ‘Jewish director’ — then the times demanded it," The Foward