Description

A traveller happens on what seems to be a small riot near the Palace-Fortress in Jerusalem.

It seems the happening had to do with a man who made the incredulous claim to be the son of God.
This monolog could be used as a reading and is useful at Easter or at any time of the year.

Cast:    1 monolog (m or f)

Bible Reference:    Matthew 26:57-27:54

Set:      bare

Lighting:        standard

  Sound:     wireless mics if available

Song:     none

SFX:       none

Costumes:      traditional or contemporary

Props:     none

Special Instructions:   none

  Time:     10

Sample of script:

actor comes onstage

We first saw the loud crowd as we passed by the western city wall, past the magnificence that is Herod’s Palace – Fortress.

Well, truth to tell, as magnificent as was this most impressive structure, one’s attention was quickly diverted to loud screaming and wailing, all this centering around some badly beaten individual, blood oozing from his head and back and legs.

Not a native to the area, I passed this happening off as some dangerous criminal receiving his just reward for a life of crime. As one whose family frequently travelled the dangerous roads hereabout I was encouraged to think this act might make the lives of travellers less hazardous.

The loud crowd that had gathered seemed to be receiving great enjoyment from witnessing the fierce beating directed at the criminal. In fact, these people who I could see as normally friendly shop keepers and housewives seemed to work themselves into a mad fury . . . hurling curses and insults, as well as blows when the criminal came sufficiently close to them.

Their disdainful words made little sense to me:

“How is it for you now, King of the Jews?”

King of the Jews? . . .

How could they be calling this criminal “King of the Jews”? . . .

Did not the mighty Herod declare himself King of the Jews?
All I had heard about the vile tempered Herod made me certain he would never allow another to attempt to claim what Herod saw as his due.

Another screamed out as he clubbed the criminal to the ground:

“You call yourself the Son of God, a prophet and the Messiah! . . . Then prophesy who it will be who hits you next!”

The son of God? . . . .

Surely this man’s crime was something less laughable than that!

Seemed like every other week there would surface some demented fool, claiming to be the long awaited Messiah! And each time this happened the deranged chump would be the laughingstock of the day, taunted and kicked out of town.

But surely no one would lay this kind of a beating on the man!

Through it all, off to the side at a respectable distance stood Herod and beside him Pilate!

Now surely this was a momentous moment that these two normally unwilling collaborators would be standing cheek to jowl!

And then came the cry that quickly gathered momentum and intensity among the fever-pitched crowd:

“Crucify him!”

Crucify him?

Were they asking that this man be crucified for an offense as trifling as making the insane claim to be son of the exalted Yahweh?

Even Pilate objected to this demand, offering that the person instead be whipped and released.

But the people would have no part of this.

This only served to bring on louder and more virulent demands for death by crucifixion.

There also were several woman about, crying softly, not speaking.

One, a woman likely in her late 40’s I presumed, was particularly distraught. As the crowd pushed her closer to the spot where I stood I heard her voice . . .  sounding strangely like a prayer. . . .

“My son! . . . My son!”

As some of the other women gathered about her, attempting to console her, I, shocked, realized this woman was mother to the poor wretch at the center of this demonstration.