Ryan M. Lindberg and Max Polski

Beth also talks about Ethan, a man she has been seeing for three months as she re-enters the arena of dating—though she is loath to use that term. Ethan seems a good man, treats Beth well, and appears interested in a serous relationship. Beth, however, has commitment issues. These in part stem from experiencing so sudden and tragic a loss, but we learn that Beth's commitment issues go back further, and had posed a threat to her marriage to Alec. Ethan manages to persuade Beth to give up her plans to spend Thanksgiving with Alec's parents, and spend the holiday with him, his brother Josh, his sister-law Jess, and his mother Rachel at the house in Jericho where he and Josh grew up.

It happens that Josh was also in the World Trade Center on 9/11. He made it out, but not without scars. Scorched with survivor's guilt and engulfed in a wave of paranoia over what he sees as relentless attacks on the Jewish people, he seeks refuge in his religion, becoming a hyper-observant Jew and making plans to move to Israel, where he believes he will be safe in the bosom of his people. Jess rejects Josh's pious religiosity, feels that it has caused him to judge her harshly, and has no intention of moving to Israel. She comes to realize that, though Josh survived that calamitous event, his essence was lost, and he is becoming more and more a stranger to her. Their marriage seems unlikely to survive this schism.

With tensions between Josh and Jess near boiling, Beth goads Josh on by revealing that her father is Palestinian. In reality, he left Jerusalem as a young child, and Beth was raised in Michigan with no sense of identity as a Palestinian—"I like hummus, that's about it" she states—but she knows that in his Zionistic zealotry, this will be a hot button for Josh. Josh's risible response in turn triggers Jess, who sees in it an example of what a changed man Josh has become. Having consumed a large volume of wine, Jess lets everything loose at the dinner table so that all the strife tumbles out. Rachel, who has been serving dollop after dollop of Jewish mother's guilt to her two sons—and had her own agenda for the dinner—is horrified by these revelations, as Jess unleashes her hatred and humiliation, and Josh crumbles in tears on the dining room table.

In a coda-like ending set three months later, we find out what has transpired for Rachel, Ethan, and Jess and especially Josh and Beth, both continuing their quest for healing. The end is satisfying, both in tying up the several strands of the plot, and in leaving enough questions as to what possibly can happen next to feel authentic—for that is far closer to truth than are pat endings.

Beth's sessions with Dr. Kim and imagined visits from Alec allow us to hear her thoughts about her loss, her difficulty connecting, her aversion to sympathy and pity, and her disdain for simple answers. "There are some things we ought not to be able to recover from," she contends. This is helpful in giving us greater insights into Beth's struggle, and also her strengths. At the same time, these feel like devices inserted into the play for the very purpose of allowing us to know Beth, as most of the heavy duty interaction throughout the play is between Josh and Jess, and to a lesser degree, Josh and Ethan.

Anna Sutheim bears the most challenging dramatic load as Beth, with so much that must be revealed yet not expressed. We see how she is wrought with uncertainty about what it is that hurts so much, as well as what she really wants, while using her sharp sense of humor as a shield. Max Polski is earnest and appealing as Ethan, making it easy to see why Beth is drawn to him despite her resistance to getting involved—with anyone. Ryan M. Lindberg is perfect as humorless, obsessed Josh, increasingly isolated from the world and people he has always known. Miriam Schwartz is terrific as Jess, Josh's wife and sparring partner. With Rachel, she knows how to be the family peacemaker, but when the time comes, she is a fierce combatant.

Maggie Bearmon Pistner is terrific as a Jewish mother who has mastered the art of assigning guilt, and wrapping her desires as acts of goodness toward her sons. Only Mr. Torsch, as Alec, seems out of sync. Alec comes across as too much of a lightweight, slouching grinning and a bit smug in his exchanges with Beth, undermining the import of what he has to say. Torsch is fine as Dr. Kim, a role that calls mainly for listening, asking probing questions, and responding with encouraging sounds and gestures.

The creative team has provided a skyline of towers and cut-outs as a backdrop, with tables and chairs wheeled in and out as needed; costumes that look exactly how you would expect these people to dress; and lighting that keeps us drawn to the action, at times to things happening in two places at once. The sound design includes precise replication of TV channel surfing and breaking news coverage. Warren C. Bowles' direction draws focus to the difficulty people have truly listening to one another; they react to others based on their own needs, not on what is being expressed. In a sense, Beth, Ethan, Josh, and Jess each inhabit their own tower; when the towers fall, they scramble in search of a new safe harbor.

Which brings me to wonder about the play's title, Jericho. Josh and Ethan could have grown up in any of scores of New York City suburbs. Jericho, New York, is a particularly heavily Jewish community (full disclosure: this reviewer lived in Jericho during his high school years), and that might have bearing on themes of the play, such as Josh's desperate search for Jewish community. There could also a reference to the biblical Battle of Jericho, its walls tumbling down, which in that story (though discredited by biblical archaeologists as having actually occurred) was a major Jewish victory. But not a thing is said about these or any other possible clues into the significance of the play's title and setting, which seems a missed opportunity, and at the least is perplexing.

Nonetheless, Jericho is a moving play, and reveals that the pain of losing a loved one, and the pain of losing a part of one's self can be equally wrenching. It does not deal with the conditions that prompt acts of terrorism, but does shine a beam on the terror that can flare within a human heart.

Jericho continues through May 10, 2015, at the Highland Park Community Center, 1978 Ford Parkway, Saint Paul, Minnesota. Tickets: $19 - $28.00. For tickets call 651-647-4315 or go to mnjewishtheatre.org.

Written by Jack Canfora; Director: Warren C. Bowles; Scenic Design: Michael Hoover; Costume Design: Liz Josheff Busa; Lighting Design: Paul Epton; Sound Design: C. Andrew Mayer; Properties Design: Robert J. Smith; Stage manager: Kelli Tucker

Cast: Ryan M. Lindberg (Josh), Maggie Bearmon Pistner (Rachel), Max Polski (Ethan), Miriam Schwartz (Jessica), Anna Sutheim (Beth), Michael Torsch (Dr. Kim / Alec)).

Photo: Sarah Whiting

- Arthur Dorman

Also see the season schedule for the Minneapolis - St. Paul region