The crucifixion

It wasn't an ordinary execution. I doubt I'd have been there otherwise. The priests had a bunch of us bussed out from the Temple to make a bit of noise and jeer at the latest would-be Messiah as he got his comeuppance.

This one in particular had really rattled them and they wanted to discourage his followers and put-off any copy-cat prophets. You know how it is.

Anyway, we fought our way through the Passover crowds and got there for the crucifixion. There was quite a turn out. Mostly just the curious but it looked like the guy had made a fair few enemies in his time and they'd all turned up to see him killed.

His friends were less apparent – his mum, a small group of women and then one or two others hanging around on the fringes. It was all pretty sad really. Still, he'd been causing trouble and he was only getting what he deserved - the same as the two bandits with him.

The soldiers finally got round to nailing him up and the strangest thing happened. 'Forgive them, Father!' he said. 'They don't know what they're doing.' In the middle of his misery, he was thinking of them. Then again, maybe it wasn't only the soldiers he was thinking of. As he spoke, I got the funny idea he was looking at me.

I started to feel uneasy.

Gethsemane

Picture the scene: an olive grove at night, the air still warm and filled with the scent of the trees and with the noises of little creatures. A man enters. He has a dark complexion and he seems aged beyond his years but there's little else to distinguish him. Except, somehow, he seems more real than anyone has the right to be. He glances back wearily and shakes his head. Then he begins to pray.

Jesus: They were asleep again, father. (He raises a smile). James and John were snoring away as always - Sons of Thunder even in their sleep. Not that Peter heard. He looked so peaceful, I didn't have the heart to wake them this time. And besides, they'll need all their strength in the days ahead.

I don't know how well they're going to cope on their own. They know something is about to happen but they don't understand how it has to be. If they did, they'd keep this last vigil with me. (He begins to pace). They prayed hard when the storm came and threatened to swamp our boat. Can't they see the storm approaching now? Are they really so asleep?

A glimpse of eternity

PETER: I would have died for him then. It was so sudden, you see - one minute I was dozing, the next I was cold and bleary-eyed in the darkness. Before I knew what was happening, they'd surrounded us - demons in the flickering torchlight, or so it seemed. Then fear cleared my senses, and they were only human after all. Some I'd met before and spoken with, eaten with even, some I'd avoided. And then there was Judas, my friend, determined and angry as ever. He strode up to the master, as if to greet him, but a moment's indecision made him falter, his eyes darting a worried glance. But it was too late for him to stop. The frown became a smile and a kiss became a betrayal. Perhaps there were demons there. Then the mob swarmed around us and my sword was in my hand. I would have died for him then; it would have been almost easy.

SANDRA: I would have died for him then. I'd have stood my ground against an on-coming tank or spoken out against the concentration camps. I would have affirmed my beliefs whatever the cost and claimed my place amongst the martyrs. I would have done, I think, but those things never happen here, not any more. Persecution takes the form of the occasional sideways glance from a friend or pointed comment from a stranger that always makes my heart sink. I've never known what to say. I used to justify myself with babble, now I say nothing at all.

PETER: I would have died for him then. Of course I would. If he'd asked me to or I could have saved him or achieved something at least. But what good would it have done getting myself killed?