We're all playing a role. You're playing a role at home, you're

In the piercing and contemplative words of Inbar Lavi, the actress who has walked the fine line between truth and illusion, we find a mirror held up to the human condition: “We’re all playing a role. You’re playing a role at home, you’re playing a role at work, you’re playing a role to survive.” These words, though spoken in the context of performance, reach far beyond the theater or the screen. They speak to the masks we wear in life — the faces we fashion to meet expectation, to endure judgment, and to find our place in a world that demands both authenticity and adaptation. In Lavi’s reflection, there lies not cynicism, but wisdom — the recognition that identity itself is a performance, shaped by circumstance and necessity.

From the earliest days of civilization, humanity has understood that life is a stage, and each of us an actor upon it. The ancient sage Socrates taught, “Know thyself,” for he knew that most men lived behind masks so thick they forgot the face beneath. The poet Shakespeare, centuries later, echoed the same truth: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” Yet where Shakespeare spoke with theatrical flourish, Lavi speaks with emotional clarity. She does not condemn the roles we play — she accepts them as essential to survival, as acts of creation and endurance in a world that tests us endlessly.

To “play a role” at home is to embody love and responsibility, even when one is weary or uncertain. To “play a role” at work is to navigate power, ambition, and duty, shaping one’s behavior to fit the expectations of others. And to “play a role to survive” is the oldest story of humankind — the instinct to adapt, to bend without breaking, to wear whatever face the moment demands. This is not falsehood; it is evolution of spirit. The chameleon does not betray its nature by changing color — it reveals its genius for survival. So too do we, when we shift and reshape ourselves across the seasons of our lives.

Consider the life of Queen Esther, the ancient heroine of Persia. Born as Hadassah, a humble Jewish girl, she hid her true identity and played the role of queen to save her people from destruction. Her disguise was not deception but destiny. By mastering her role, she fulfilled her purpose. Her story stands as proof that the roles we play can become sacred instruments of transformation — that sometimes, to protect what is true, one must first wear what is false. Inbar Lavi’s words remind us that there is no shame in adaptation, only in losing awareness of who we are beneath the masks.

The origin of Lavi’s insight lies in her own journey — born in Israel, raised in complexity, and molded by the demanding world of acting, where truth and illusion are intertwined. In her profession, she has learned that even the most authentic performance begins with understanding the mask — not rejecting it. Through her art, she has lived countless lives, each revealing a fragment of herself. It is this understanding — that to survive, one must sometimes perform — that gives her words their quiet strength. They are not a lament but a revelation: that to live well is to balance authenticity and adaptation, to be both the actor and the soul behind the role.

The ancients, too, knew that this duality was the essence of wisdom. The Stoics taught that we cannot control the play, only our performance within it. Epictetus wrote, “Remember that you are an actor in a drama of such sort as the author chooses.” Some are cast in short plays, others in long ones; some in tragedy, others in comedy — yet all must play their part with dignity and courage. Thus, the roles we play are not lies, but responsibilities; each moment demands its own face, each relationship its own tone. To live fully is to move gracefully between these forms without forgetting the eternal self that observes them all.

Let this be the lesson: you are both the mask and the one who wears it. Do not despise your roles, but play them with awareness. Be kind in the role of the parent, steadfast in the role of the worker, brave in the role of the survivor. Yet when the curtain falls each night, return to the quiet truth within you — the self that is not bound by title or costume. That is the soul’s home, the face behind all faces.

Action to take: in your moments of reflection, ask yourself, “Who am I beneath the role I play today?” Let your awareness guide you, so that your performances — in life, in love, in work — are not acts of deceit but of devotion. Play each role with intention, and when life demands you change the mask, do so with grace. For as Inbar Lavi teaches, the art of living is not in refusing the stage, but in mastering it — knowing that through every role, every act, and every transformation, the true self endures like the eternal flame behind the shifting shadows.