In a previous life, I wrote for the Deseret News – one of two daily newspapers in Salt Lake City. I had the glorious privilege of being the theatre editor. For roughly four years, I got to see just about every single musical and play happening throughout Utah. I got to talk to the performers and creative teams; I got to take backstage tours; and I reviewed the shows.

I loved that job.

I love theater. I love watching other people figure out life at its most joyful and most complex. Sitting in a dark house with sometimes dozens, sometimes hundreds, sometimes thousands of my fellow man, having a moment that makes me weep, laugh and, most importantly, think differently. A ‘wow….. I can see what that must be like for this person.’ Theater is a magical art form that can entertain while at the same time enlighten and, dare I say, teach empathy?

I recently attended a performance of “A Case for the Existence of God,” the latest offering by Pioneer Theatre Company, playing now through April 12 at the beautiful Meldrum Theatre. I went into it knowing nothing about it – which is sometimes the best way to see a show.

The play opens with two men, one in a suit, the other in work boots, sitting in what looks to be a cubicle. We come to find out one man is a mortgage broker and the other is a workin’ man looking for help taking out a loan.

One thing I love about theater is figuring how what the construct is going to be. Are we having many lavish scene changes? Are we breaking the fourth wall? What imaginary world are we entering?

“The Case for the Existence of God” takes place entirely in the office, sort of. Through careful direction by Timothy Douglas and subtle light cues, designed by Yael Lubetzky, we start to learn that the men are in different locations – maybe a house or local playground. Actually for much of the play, the men don’t even stand up. They roll their office chairs to a new spot on the stage. They might take off a tie or remove a coat to help define the different space (costume and set design Lex Liang) but they mostly remain seated. Once you get used to the construct, it works well.

The actors take these two monstrous roles – they’re on stage the entire time – and bring such humanity and vulnerability to their characters. Jon Hudson Odom plays Keith, the mortgage broker who will go on to share stories of his childhood and fatherhood. Lee Osorio is Ryan, a worker in a yogurt plant struggling to make ends meet.

What is really happening in this play is a conversation. Real conversation. Adult conversation. The kind we wish we could have, the kind we try to avoid. This play has nothing to do with theology and everything to do with friendship at its purest and messiest – the complexities of trying to forge a new friendship as adults: finding a place to really be seen without judgement, and to be heard to the very depth of our frustrations and sorrows.

Both actors deliver fantastic performances – open, honest with a very palpable concern and caring for one another, while also capturing the awkwardness of trying to figure out adult male friendship.

I drove home thinking about the show and was struck by how sad it is that a story about genuine male friendship is so thought-provoking. If you had two women on that stage, you might not have much of a play. Which is a shame. As Timothy Douglas shared in his Director’s Note a quote from author Steve Maraboli: ‘Friends are medicine for a wounded heart, and vitamins for a hopeful soul.’

The show is about 90 minutes with no intermission.