Yeshua Crucified part 1

Yeshua Crucified:

A Tragedy of the Christ

A Play by

Timothy Ladd

Persons of the Play:

Yeshua of Nazareth

Mother Mary

Mary Magdalene, a schizophrenic

Bartholomew, a clown

Ghost of John the Baptist

Simon Peter

John

Hannah, a sex-worker

Simon Magus

Priest

Sadducee

Pharisee

Gnaeus Rufius Faustus, Roman gentleman-scholar

Pontius Pilatus, Roman Governor

Caiaphas, Jewish High Priest

Soldier, a Roman

Chorus (two actors)

Charmides, a clown

Lazarus

Miriam, bereaved sister of Lazarus

Boy

Zadok

Eli

Mordecai

Yacov the Proto-Zealot

John the Baptist as a Young Man

Yeshua as a ten-year-old boy

Jael, crucified woman

Various Others

{ A Note about costumes and casting. Yeshua is a man between the ages of 30 – 35. He should be of average or less height, slender build, but a strong speaking voice. He doesn’t mumble or simper. He has a scraggly beard. He wears a fedora but dresses in worn clothes. Does not wear Hassidic dress but the fedora and beard are meant to make a connection somehow with this sort of traditional Judaism. He wears an I ♡ NY T-shirt or similar. The actors in the opening of the play should dress as Jews in the Middle East dress today – i. e, variously. The Priest should dress as a Protestant or Roman Catholic. The Sadducee and the Pharisee can dress as a Hindu or Sikh and a Tibetan Buddhist monk, for instance, or some mash-up thereof. The Soldier should be either dressed in a style similar to a Stalinist or Maoist officer or a member of the US military – not a Nazi. All dress should be contemporary – if a religious costume then one that is worn somewhere in the world today. No Napoleonic admirals. Hannah should be dressed provocatively, but she is off trying to get water so she may need to take off her stilettos at some point. Many of the scenes make use of humor but it should not overpower the scenes. Charmides is a clown (he has happy circus clown make-up) but Hannah should elicit some real pathos. Pilate is in a wheelchair, but is not completely paralyzed. Faustus can wear Roman dress but not a toga and should be rather portly and about sixty years old.  There is no real need for realistic costumes. And periods can be mixed. The Soldier, for instance, can be dressed in authentic Roman armor. But Yeshua should be in contemporary clothes. He cannot wear flip-flops. The sound they make is ridiculous. If somebody has to be in flip-flops it could be Charmides. Bartholomew should wear hobo-clown make-up.}

{Part One may be omitted in performance or Jael’s speech could be cut if time is a concern in regional theaters.}

Part One

            SCENE ONE: A Cave Near Nazareth. Yeshua is ten years old.

            (Curtain rises to the Chorus standing before a scrim. The stage is mostly dark, fully  fogged.)

CHORUS ONE:  [Enters with Chorus Two. Playing simple chords on a guitar. It should be slow and folksy and be that same progression essentially as when Yeshua sings    his song later in the play.]

                        All our exhausted yesterdays, our faults

            And fractures push us back, demanding now 

            We reconsider stories of the past.

            We’re driven to this magic hall of smoke,

            Trying themes unexplored in song or prose.  

                        Immortal Rome, before her stretched out death in harsh

            Years, civil wars, disease and unrest left

            The world, for good and ill, in Latin charge.

            Ideas spread on pavement stones. The world’s

            Center beat hot with empire’s greedy blood.

            But Hebrews rankled under Caesar’s crush. 

            The whole thing will catch fire like drouted brush.

            And soon effulgence will break forth again:

            The atavistic flashing of the storm’s return.  

            [A giant map of the Roman Empire is shown on stage. Wind machine is briefly   heard. The fog is blown away. By the fifth line of the following speech the scrim    is backlit to show the shadows of Jewish men and boys.]

CHORUS TWO:

            [Beginning with the words “a wind’s blasts,” a fan blows the fog from the stage.           The lighting should change to suggest a cave’s interior. Some on stage can hold                      torches or battery powered lanterns.] 

                        In Galilee a wind’s blasts cross the dune,

            A storm the Arabs call habub strews sand

            On primal wilderness, indifferent

            To beastly urge or civilized man’s care.

            Gathered thereat, a clutch of worried men:

            Zealots, insurgents, thugs and holy scribes,

            Craftsmen, and lesser merchants, peasants too –

            God’s children all, in earnest synod met

            By night within a furtive cave – the son

            Of Jesse, David, from King Saul once hid

            Inside a den with friends-in-arms. There Saul

            Went to relieve himself, and David cut

            The corner of Saul’s robe – that proved God’s love

            For Saul, as sacred scripture truly says.

ZADOK:

            [Zadok and others enter.]

                        My judgment falls for Jewish war with Rome.  

            We’ve nestled where the Spirit willed – between

            Some rocks, in sheltering crevices, whereas,

            Ensconced in syruped luxury, clients slouch

            Or sprawl. The Prefect’s parasites are these.

            Don’t they besmirch our sacred territory?

            Bring their pigs to Temple? Bring a curse

            On us, parading iron arms? They march

            Blasphemous through the gates of David’s seat,

            Before the faces of the priests, before

            The Temple courtyard in Jerusalem –

            These whoring soldiers, pledges to their heap

            Of pronking gods. Let’s fight them. Win! And wield

            The hailstones of the only Adonai.” 

OTHERS:           [Half cry out against Zadok, the other half sings, beating drums.]:

            “Judas Maccabeus Since His Youth,

            A Mighty Warrior, Praise God the Lord!”

ELI:

                        A song that moves us all but deeply few.

            [Points to Zadok.] Solicitous of getting what he wants,

            As when our early Hebrew people sought

            Of Samuel an anointed king to rule

            Them as the other nations were; that turned

            Out less than what they’d liked; a king, they found,

            Becomes with ease a cruel tyrant: greed,

            His own corrupted lusts, his pride – he serves

            These only, never thinking of the poor,

            The old, the sick, the young; nor do bad kings

            Stamp out the brigand, thief or cheat, but aid

            Them in their crimes and benefit from vice,

            Outrage and felony, from homicide,

            Depravity and hate. Who hasn’t seen

            Them back from war with scars and missing limbs

            Or minus nose, thumb, eye? So many forced

            To beg once home from executing works

            Of slaughter for the palace hobbyhorse?

            Wars so foolhardy they are heinous wrongs

            To boys conscripted for the grisly fights,

            To parents whose male heirs are torn away,

            To girls betrothed only for widowing,

            To children fatherless at birth – who longs

            For such subversion of his daily peace?

            Such burdened peace as farming families know.

            Diurnal drudging has evil enough 

            Without the sordid crimes too dark to fit

            Delineated verse – no epics praise

            Our children’s pointless murder – unspeakable –

            The butchery when blinded armies clash.

            Hebrews, I’ve heard in this dim thoughtful cave

            Some echoes from our scripture in the words

            Of Zadok: echoes contradicting him. 

            Sharp alarm provokes our valid rage.

            We hate the Romans. More we hate their wars.

            Judeans have examples of desires

            Bad, or wrongheaded, past one’s reach:

            Bathsheba, object of King David’s rut –

            He killed Uriah, took the Hittite’s wife;

            Imagining a need, the people asked

            Aaron to form a golden calf, and bowed 

            Before it, called the mindless thing their God.

            Famous examples of a stupid pride,

            Or overweening arrogance, we Jews,

            Today lack none. Nor ignorant of risks

            That grow from blatant disregard of odds.  

            Often opinions stick with a stale cause.  

            Pharaoh thought Moses would go on denied. 

            Too often men are fearful of gross change. 

            Obscurer tribes don’t see the conflict’s chance.

            Them history makes obscurer still.

            The Hittites, find me one or two of them!

            The weak can blind themselves with ready qualms:

            It’s easier to squirm than vie with steel.

            Survival makes indecorous demands

            Once battle with the great has been engaged.

            How will our women beat them back to Rome

            Once crows have done with pecking out our eyes?

            Will healthy nursing drown their legions? Eh?

            Perhaps a period will win the day! 

            And look, the Maccabees are now long dead

            While Herod reigns as tetrarch. Hanukkah,

            Of course, survives today, but feasts aren’t fights.

            The fighting Maccabees are very dead.

            Zealots form bands of Dagger Men and mean

            To use Great Herod’s castles and his forts

            To manifest what many think a vain

            Revolt against Augustus’ arms – unless

            It be the will of God. I ask, is it?

            If not, can we survive it?

MORDECAI:

                        Children of Israël, with God our shepherd,

            We’re overrun with Roman goats. Well-suited

            To our religious customs is reluctance

            To intercourse with unbelieving sinners.

            So the wise son of Abraham our father

            Declined investment in the pharaoh’s warehouse,

            When drought and famine stole life-giving viands,

            Subsistence from the land. However, Joseph

            Had prospered down in Egypt – Neighbors, neighbors!

            Hear me! Eleven brothers stayed and languished

            In Beulah, no? And what was their survival

            Dependent on? The thrift of Joseph, saving

            The grain as surety, as warned in visions

            From God. By this arrangement Israel flourished.  

            Daniel did well in Babylon, says scripture. 

            In every trouble God provides a shelter.

            Further, to taunt the Caesar is suicidal:

            The ruin of your stable, prudent futures.

            The coming of Seleucids and the Romans

            Has seen the increase of our common welfare –

            The Lord provideth! God rewards the righteous.

YACOV THE PROTO-ZEALOT:

                        The coward does not see his cowardice.

            Groveling is not admitted by the groveler.  Filth is no

            Reward. These [pointing to Mordecai] dub it nature’s rule, or luck,

            God’s plan. Toil masters every hour. The toil

            Ceaseless and harsh throughout the years keeps bent

            The backs and necks of workers fearful, tired.

            The ones oppressed decry oppression last.

            No mirror does the beggar own. The cur

            Disgorges and returns. These worthless sons

            Of Belial [pointing to Mordecai and Eli] foist vomit onto Judah’s kin –

            The dove is yet to peck at kestrels. Cowards!

            Failure embitters, powerlessness corrupts;

            Ignored too long hardens the heart to stone –

            They’d have God’s people suckled by a wolf,

            Would pimp us to the Roman whore, would sell

            Us slaves in bondage. Latin animals

            Will play their pagan pleasures in God’s house,

            While we his chosen violate the oath,

            The sacred Covenant made in his name –

            Holy, unspoken, name above all names,

            And prostitute the blessing of our prince

            And patriarch. Authority of God

            Is what Caesar would steal, trample beneath

            The boots of Roman mercenaries. Rome

            Has wealth? What wealth has Rome? Some Mammon filched

            With wicked crimes, I say. The maidens raped,

            The babies spitted on their Roman pikes,

            Old ones dispatched with fasces, men in prime

            Cut down with wasting siege. The empire’s steel

            Is wrought of twice-damned pelf that fattens all

            Idols of Rome incestuous, impure,

            A Rome born for revolt and suicide.

            We need not conquer Caesar to dislodge

            His foothold but just hurt his heel, his toe

            Cut off, and send him limping home, across

            The fickle seas. Here is our only choice:

            Worship Rome’s king, or worship only God.

            The one is life. The other, wretched death.   

            The gnat may screech, but not so long.  Not loud –

            Some say as much. What do they know of God’s

            Righteousness? What righteous thought have they

            Of God? Is God a gnat? Is not our God

            A whirlwind in the desert? Count the men

            Gideon took to war! [A general uproar breaks out. Many would follow the        Proto-Zealot.]

JOHN THE BAPTIST:

                        From seminal homeland disseminated.

            Scattered. The spit of boys lost in the breeze.

            I needn’t teach you Greek: you know “diaspora.”

            Since you would not serve the Lord your God

            With joyfulness for such abundant grace

            And favor, you, therefore, shall serve the ones

            You hate, as slaves to enemies whom God

            Will send against you in your time of thirst

            And hunger, in your nakedness and lack

            Of every needful thing. He’ll fix a yoke

            Of iron on your neck and chide your back

            With an ox-whip until he has destroyed

            You and your seed. But ho! Repent! The king

            Is at the gate. Ho! And hear me. Repent!

            The Lord will bring from the earth’s ends a foe,

            A nation whose speech you won’t comprehend,

            To souse on you, an owl who hunts by night,

            Fiercer than lions seeking meat. They’ll clutch

            You as the leopard takes its sleeping prey,

            And gather you like sand. The swarm as swift

            As meteoric flares shall fall unchecked,

            Like Egypt’s plagues of fly and locust clouds.

            Hordes in gold loricated plate shall awe,

            Siege-engines made inscrutably of fright,

            Shall scratch the tops of fortified high towers

            Like spires that pierce the vault of heaven, and burst

            The thunderheads: the floods shall crush you through

            The cracks of social walls. But first the dread

            Of starving straits.  For paradise becomes

            A prison when beleaguered. Delicate

            Is she among you, tender and refined,

            So delicate she dares not set the soles

            Of her feet on the unpaved paths – one wife

            Begrudges food to son and husband, hides

            Food scraps from her own bosom child, keeps back

            Even the afterbirth, the child she bears,

            Because in secret she is eating them.

            So siege reduces everyone humane.

            But, ho! Return to me, says God your king.

            Come and buy bread from me. Buy bread and wine

            Without a price or shekel. Dearth of faith

            And righteous famine racks the land. Long days

            Stretch out the hills. Long nights expose the rocks

            And chalky skeletons of desperate towns.

            But come, be washed with primal element,

            As Naaman saved in Jordan’s turbid stream,

            That bodies cleansed and healed be once

            Again a pleasure to our father God.  

            The waters of repentance, soothing salve:   

            Be baptized with the hallowed balm of God!

            An ossuary God will nurture with his breath

            Blown on dead bones, there nervy sinew grow,

            As Naaman saved in Jordan’s sanguine flow! [Exits right.]

           

ZADOK:

                        Let dogs take talk! To war! To war! To war!

ELI:

                        Go stick your fat in Roman teeth! Fools! Fools!