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.

The Miracle Man

The stage is set with two chairs placed next to each other between centre-stage and up-stage right. Margie, an old woman, sits on one of the chairs, her head in her hands. Jesus enters quietly from stage-left. The other cast members are at the rear of the stage with their backs to the audience. Pat sits, hunched over, in the middle of the line and the rest stand. They turn to face the audience when they are needed.

Jesus (concerned) : Margie?

Margie : Huh? Oh, it's you again. Let me be.

Jesus : Margie, what's wrong?

Margie : I said, 'Let me be.'

Jesus : I can't - you know that. Tell me what's wrong.

Margie : It's hopeless - that's what. It's all so hopeless.

Jesus : It's not hopeless - you just have to be sure of what you hope for.

Margie : I don't understand.

Jesus : Talk to me and perhaps I can explain.

Margie : Explain? I don't want explanations and excuses. It's past that. Oh, never mind. I'm too old and I'm too tired - just let me be.

Jesus : Talk to me, Margie. Tell me what's on your mind; tell me how you feel; tell me a story - anything. Just talk to me.

Margie : You want a story? Ha - there's only ever been one story.

Jesus : Then tell it. Let me hear what you have to say.

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?