Six Monologues from John's Passion: #6

"A Secret Disciple"

I have a confession to make.  I am a follower of Jesus.  You think that's an odd confession?  It's dangerous to be a follower of Jesus.  Not very many people know that I am.  You see, I am a respectable person.  I have my reputation to protect, my standing in the community.  So I try to help, in small ways, and in secret ways.  I try to live by the things that Jesus taught.  "Love one another as I have loved you," he said.  "Servants are not greater than their master," he said.  "Go and bear fruit," he said.  "Unless  a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.  Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life."

That last statement haunts me.  I have tried to live by Jesus' teachings.  I want to honor him.  Not many disciples have the means to provide a tomb.  So I did.  I wanted to honor him and his life.  It seemed like the least I could do.  But as I thought about it, it seemed like the safe thing to do.  I'm glad I gave him a place to be buried.  He was too important, to... holy... to be buried in a pauper's grave, to be buried with all of the other criminals.  But as I sealed the tomb, I thought, just for a moment -- we're save now.  We're safe from those teachings of his -- so compelling, but so difficult.  Can you imagine?  Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life keep it?  If I am honest with myself, that's me.  I love my life.  That's why I'm a secret disciple.  And my my heart knows that what Jesus teaches is true, and life-giving.  But I am afraid.  I am afraid to lose my life, my reputation.  I'm afraid of what will happen if I tell people that I believe in Jesus.  Will they laugh at me?  Will they stop inviting me to their banquets?  Will I be an outcast?

When I sealed the tomb, for a moment I thought -- this is the end.  And I grieved the thought of never hearing his voice again, of never seeing him again, of never being healed again.  But then I thought, what did I think I was sealing up?  Didn't he say, "If  grain of wheat, it bears much fruit?"  This is not the end.  You can try to seal Jesus in the tomb, but he won't stay there.  You can try to make his teachings respectable, but he'll keep meeting you, and telling you to come out of the darkness, and come into the light.  You can try to be a secret disciple, but he'll keep messing you up.

That's how it was with me.  I sealed up the tomb, to provide a respectable burial.  And I vowed to honor his memory with my life.  But as it turns out, Jesus doesn't want me to "honor his memory."  He wants me to join him in a new life.

Six Monologues from John's Passion: #5

"One of the Women"

I don't know why we stayed.  It was hard to stay.  It would have been easier to leave, and not to witness the pain, and not to hear the laughter, and not to see the shame.  Almost everyone had left.  There were still a few soldiers, gambling for his clothes.  But there were no crowds any more.  There were no crowds cheering for him -- and there were not crowds jeering at him, either.  Not any more.   But we stayed, even though it was hard.  Sometimes you have to do the hard thing for someone you love.  And we loved him.

Speaking for myself,  I still didn't want to give up on him.  I didn't want to believe that everything was over.  He had given me dignity.  He had given me hope.  He had healed me.  He had given me freedom.  How could that end?  I didn't want to think that I had believed in the wrong things, trusted the wrong person.

But crucifixion means only one thing, and that is death.  There could be no other ending.  There was no hope.  He was our hope, and he was on the cross.  I suppose that's why everyone else went home.  They knew how it would end.  But we stayed, because we didn't want to believe it -- not yet.  And we wanted to be near him.

Yes, that's right.  We wanted to be near him until the end.  That's what you do for someone you love, and we loved him.  He had given us so much, and now we wanted to give him something.  We weren't even sure he knew if we were there, but he did.  Because even then, he was giving us something.

He gave us one another.  He said, "Here is your son."  and "here is your mother" just as if he knew that we needed each other as much as we needed him.  He made us a family.

We have been a family ever since that day.  Something was born on that cross.  I know that seems strange to say.  And I don't mean just Jesus' mother and his disciples were his family.  No -- we are all connected to one another, brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers.  Because of the cross.  Because of what he did.  We live differently now.  We care for one another.  We make sure each of us has food and clothing -- and hope.  We stay with each other, even in hard times.  I don't mean to say that we have suddenly become perfect.  We haven't.  But like I said -- he gave us to each other on the cross, just like he gave himself to us.

Sometimes you have to do the hard thing for someone you love.

*image is by Patt LaPorte

6 Monologues from John's Passion: #1

"A Disciple"

I have never felt so close to Jesus as I did on that night.  It was a calm and peaceful evening, full of prayer and singing, full of light and teaching.  Jesus told us many things that evening, while we ate and after dinner.  He even prayed for us.  I remember that he prayed for our protection, and he prayed that we would be united with one another.  I remember that he also told us always to abide in his love -- to love one another.  I remember later thinking it was so strange, how he prayed for us.  We should have been praying for him!  Of course, we never would have thought of that.  We left our dinner with a warm glow in our hearts, but also with some uneasiness.  It was a beautiful, clear evening as we crossed the Kidron Valley.  Then I saw him.  Judas.  And he had with him soldier and police officers from the chief priests.  Their torches lit up the night.

Looking back, you would think that Judas, walking with all those soldier, would have been the strong one, and Jesus the weaker.  But that has never been my impression.  Even when he was arrested, Jesus seemed to be in charge.  And Judas just keeps getting smaller and smaller whenever I remember him.  It didn't take courage to betray Jesus.  It was really an act of a coward -- someone who saw where everything was headed and wanted to cash in early.  He was afraid of what following Jesus really meant, and decided to follow something else.

But we were all afraid of following Jesus at one time or another.  We just didn't take such drastic measures as Judas did.  Some disciples fell away early.  Something Jesus said or did offended them, and they just stopped listening.  Others hung around, but kept their distance.  But Jesus still saw something in us, something worth protecting, something worth saving.  I'll never forget his words that evening, when the soldiers and the police came.  We were all so frightened, wondering what would happen to us.  We we all be arrested, and beaten or killed?  We weren't sure about the intentions of the soldiers.  Then Jesus said, "If you are looking for me, let these men go."  We were free!  We would not be put on trial -- only Jesus would.

Now I hear them saying about Jesus, that he died for me, that he is the Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world.  I know just one thing for sure -- he died for me.  His word set me free.  That's how I felt that night.  And later on, when he returned, he told us that us that we still had a job to do -- to set other people free as well.