The End of the World as We Know It

The problem with prophecy is that it leaves out the critical element of chance, of the unknown, eliminating the possibility of a future that one can dictate. Eloquently described to us by the Rabbi Isidor Chemelwitz in Act Five, Scene 6, this is the element that drives us forward, leaving us in a state of perpetual “painful progress,” as Harper put it in her final monologue at the end of the play. That pain is the adverse effect of being in a state akin to limbo, “Longing for what we’ve left behind, and dreaming ahead.” [Harper, Act Five, Scene 10]

(Limbo: all the more fitting with the religious references being thrown around every which way, in my opinion. I’m surprised that limbo wasn’t a word really used more often, but then again, this play really deals with themes more human than anything otherwise. I get that recurring feeling of  limbo throughout the majority of this play, and although the characters themselves evolve and change, the circumstances don’t; the recognition of those circumstances, on the other hand, do.)

No matter what pain, no matter what hurt, life is still made to be lived. Prior recognizes this and, as a prophet, rejects the notion of anything but. Kushner neatly tucks that message into Prior’s rejection, and sets forth eventual conclusion of the play.

“If I can find hope anywhere, that’s it, that’s the best I can do. It’s so much not enough, so inadequate but…Bless me anyway. I want more life.” -Prior Walter, speaking to the Angels [Act Five, Scene Five]

Even if it’s a selfish act, it also doubles as an incredibly brave one, the same way Louis made the decision to walk out on Prior. The right to the life you’ve lived, the life you’re going to live, and the urge to keep living that life is key to the play despite the madness that may swirl violently around it’s characters, the whirlwind filled with labels, categories, and traps of every kind. Within that tornado, they all exist and will continue to, and that alone is enough to warrant more life.