This play is very special to me; after I wrote a review of its off-Broadway production in 2000, its author Bill C. Davis reached out to me, thanking me for so well understanding his intentions. We got to know each other pretty well--I guess you can say we became friends. He gave me a copy of the published edition of Avow, inscribed "Thank you for hearing my soul." What follows is from my original review of the play.
Avow is all about vows and avowing: it's about finding balance in a maze of promises and confessions and assertions, made to oneself and to one's God. Davis can't conclusively answer the questions he raises in this intelligent and thoughtful play, but he pushes us squarely in the center of a lively and provocative debate about the most fundamental and essential questions that human beings face.
It all starts when Brian and Tom visit their parish priest, Father Raymond, and ask him to sanctify their intended marriage vows. To their surprise--for they have come to respect Father Raymond as a liberal and forward-thinking sort of guy--he refuses. Further, he tells them that the Church can never sanction even their acts of lovemaking: because homosexual sex is by definition not procreative, it is forbidden. Brian is outraged, but Tom is reflective: the priest's response has struck a chord somewhere in Tom's consciousness, and he begins to question whether he can ever make love to Brian (or any other man) ever again.
And so begins a complicated chain reaction in which these three men and those closest to them examine, challenge, and renew their faith in God and the Church and themselves. Brian's sister Irene is single and pregnant; he and Tom are planning to adopt and raise her baby as their own. Clearly much more than a disinterested bystander, Irene tries to mediate between Brian and Tom and Father Raymond, only to find that she is deeply attracted to the priest. That attraction turns out to be mutual, forcing Father Raymond to re-evaluate his own choices vis-a-vis the Church and his own life. And in the meantime Brian and Irene's mother Rose learns tolerance and acceptance of her children's lifestyles and decisions from her own more enlightened confessor, Father Nash.
So from Brian and Tom's catalytic request come these five separate spiritual journeys: linked souls moving together and moving apart to each find God in his or her own way. Davis wisely steps back from his characters, seldom judging them; instead he gives them all vitality and dimension so that we care about and come to understand each one. Avow contains plenty of lively theological debate, but it's first and foremost a rich and complex human drama: there's nothing theoretical about Brian's breaking heart or Father Raymond's waking heart. And lest you think that Avow is deadly serious, let me add that there is also a good deal of genuine humor in this play.