Rice Crackers at the Opera

When authenticity wins over appearances

I probably broke some kind of unspoken rule tonight. There I was, sitting in the velvet rows of the opera house, the overture rising, lights dimming. I reached into my bag for rice crackers. Crunch.

Not exactly the sound of sophistication, I know. But here’s the thing: I was hungry, the show was long, and I’ve learned that being fully present sometimes means honoring the small, human needs that make you comfortable enough to enjoy the moment.

Maybe that’s what authenticity looks like in real time, learning to stop apologizing for being real.

The Scene Behind the Snack

We’d barely made it to the opera on time. My metro card malfunctioned, the train kept stopping, and my friends and I were laughing through mild panic as the clock ticked closer to curtain. By the time I found my seat, I was half-relieved, half-exhausted. Then the lights dimmed, the orchestra swelled, and suddenly, everything stilled.

West Side Story.

Love. Loss. Division. Hope.

A story I’d seen before, but this time, I watched it differently.

Somewhere between Maria’s grief and Tony’s longing, I realized how much I was actually there, not just physically, but fully. No overthinking, no wandering mind. Just there. Maybe that’s why the rice crackers tasted better than usual; they were seasoned with presence.

The Unpolished Beauty of Being Real

We spend so much of our lives trying to appear “put together,” as if reverence requires perfection. But God doesn’t meet us in our polish; He meets us in our honesty.

Jesus didn’t dine in temples; He broke bread with people who were hungry, body and soul. I think of Matthew 5:6, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” Sometimes that hunger isn’t metaphorical. Sometimes it’s literal rice crackers at an opera, our way of saying, I’m here, doing my best to stay present and grateful.

Author Anne Lamott once wrote, “Grace means you’re in a different universe from where you had been stuck, when you had absolutely no way to get there on your own.” Maybe grace found me tonight, in the crunch between silence and song.

What the Story Whispered

As Maria grieved her brother and lover, I thought about how hate multiplies when love is withheld. There was no reason for the division between the Jets and the Sharks, only fear disguised as pride. And isn’t that what we still see today?

It reminded me of Romans 12:21, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

Kindness still heals. Compassion still disrupts hate. Love still wins, even when it looks quiet or small.

Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.” And sitting there, surrounded by strangers, crumbs on my lap, I thought maybe choosing love is what holiness looks like in a divided world. Not grand gestures. Just choosing not to bite back, even when it’s easier.

Soul Insights

1. Presence is nourishment.

When we stop performing and start participating, even the simplest acts become sacred. Being present doesn’t require silence or perfection, it just requires honesty. Tonight, presence tasted like sea salt and humility.

2. Comfort doesn’t make you less spiritual.

There’s this myth that reverence has to be uncomfortable. But maybe God delights in us being at ease in His world. He created laughter, hunger, and satisfaction. There’s holiness in being human.

3. Authenticity is contagious.

The moment we stop pretending, we make space for others to do the same. Maybe someone else in that theater saw my snack and thought, Oh good, I’m not the only one being human today.

4. Division shrinks in the face of compassion.

Watching West Side Story reminded me that conflict often grows where understanding dies. Choosing empathy doesn’t mean excusing harm, it means refusing to multiply it. Love slows the cycle of destruction.

5. God is found in the in-between.

Between the overture and applause, between laughter and silence, there’s God. Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Stillness doesn’t always mean quiet. Sometimes it’s the peace that stays even as the world moves around you.

Final Thoughts

Life doesn’t always happen in grand sanctuaries or mountaintop moments. Sometimes, it happens in red seats under stage lights, where you’re halfway tired, halfway hungry, but wholly alive.

Maybe holiness is less about posture and more about participation. About being right where you are, with snacks, friends, and an open heart, listening for where God might show up next.

Your Turn

Tomorrow, wherever you go, church, café, office, or beach, ask yourself: How can I show up as my real self here?

Bring your full humanity into sacred moments. You never know, God might be sitting next to you, nodding, and whispering, “Enjoy the show.”

Soul Path Insights