Denise Day Spencer

February 5, 2007

Holy Week drama: The Upper Room

Filed under: Creative Ministries — denisedayspencer @ 9:16 pm

The third of three dramas I’m posting from past Holy Week services at OBI. This is a two-woman skit that depicts Mary’s memories of and fears for her son, Jesus, before his crucifixion.

The Upper Room
By Denise Day Spencer

SERVANT GIRL is sweeping the floor as MARY enters.

MARY:    Excuse me…

SERVANT:    (looking up) Yes? Can I help you?

MARY:    I hope so. I’m looking for someone. I was told he was here with
some friends…celebrating the Passover.

SERVANT:    Do you mean the Galilean? Jesus of Nazareth?

MARY:    Yes, that’s the one! Do you know where he is?

SERVANT:    Oh, he was here, all right. He and twelve others. I’m just cleaning
up after them now.

MARY:    So they’ve already gone?

SERVANT:    Not long ago. Him and the eleven, that is. One of them left early.

MARY:    (a bit worried) Which one?

SERVANT:    (with a shrug) How should I know? (thinking) Wait a minute…
I did hear one of them call him by name…”Judas!” That was it!

MARY:    (to herself) Judas…(to SERVANT) Where was he going?

SERVANT:    They don’t tell me their business, ma’am. I just clean up after them.

MARY:    (kindly) Of course you do. (brief pause) I don’t suppose you heard
the others say where they were going?

SERVANT:    I did hear that; yes, I did! They talked of going to the Mount of Olives.

MARY:    (to herself) Gethsemane…

SERVANT:    Why they’d go there this time of night, I don’t know. I don’t like that
place at night. It’s damp and dark…creepy, if you ask me!
(resuming her sweeping) But they didn’t ask me.

MARY:    I should have known that’s where he’d be…

SERVANT:    Excuse me, ma’am. Will you be needing any more information?

MARY:    (quietly amused) No, I don’t think so. Thank you for all your help.
(pause) Would you mind if I just…stayed here for a few moments?

SERVANT:    You’re welcome to it, as far as I’m concerned. I’ll just tidy up the
downstairs. (pause) You know, if you really need to see Jesus,
I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you followed him. He seemed like a
real kind sort of man. He stopped to thank me as they went out.
Not many people ever thank me for this job!

MARY:    (smiling to herself) He’s like that.

SERVANT:    Oh, so you’ve met him before?

MARY:    You might say that. (brief pause) He’s my son.

SERVANT:    Well, why didn’t you say so? (grabbing MARY’S hand and giving
it a hearty shake) I’m pleased to meet you! You must be mighty
proud of him.

MARY:    (warmly) I am.

SERVANT:    Now I’m really sorry you didn’t get here sooner. You just missed him!

MARY:    (quietly) Again.

SERVANT:    Well, I’ll be downstairs. Just yell if you need anything.

MARY:    Thank you. (SERVANT exits) I just missed him. I’ve spent a
lifetime trying to keep up with him. He was even born before I was
ready! It seems so long ago…I had to wrap him in rags and use a
manger for his cradle. He walked early, too. By the time he was a
year old he was already running from place to place…and falling
down, skinning those chubby little knees.

When he was twelve, he was more like an adult than a child.
We took him to the Temple that year for the Passover. Instead of
running with the other boys, Jesus spent all of his time with the
teachers. They told us they’d never seen a child with his
understanding of the scriptures before.

He grew up so fast…as if there wasn’t going to be enough time to
pack into life everything he needed to do. (brief pause) Is there
ever enough time? I’ve spent hours and hours looking after him–
cooking, cleaning, mending his clothes. Sometimes I wish I’d taken
more time just to listen to him.

The days pass so quickly. For some reason lately I’ve felt afraid.
It’s a feeling that…time is running out. But is it my time, or his?
I had the dream again last night. It’s always the same. I see Jesus,
and he’s just a toddler. He’s running away from me, laughing,
wanting me to chase him. I start to run after him, and the next thing
I know he’s a boy of ten. He waves to me to follow him. I try, but I
can never catch up. Then he’s a grown man, and he’s running
even harder and faster. He doesn’t look at me any more, but presses
on and on. Up ahead there are shadows, and they get darker with
every step. I call to Jesus to stop, but he can’t hear me. There’s a
roaring in my ears as the darkness gets closer and then–he’s gone.
He’s just…gone. Then I wake up in a cold sweat.

(increasingly emotional, looking upward and praying now) Oh,
my Lord! He may be your Son, but he’s still my boy! I want so much
to protect him, like I did when he was small and I could hold him in
my arms. But You’ve turned him loose on the world and I can’t
protect him any more. What am I supposed to do? How am I
supposed to feel? I want to run to Gethsemane, but–I’d miss him
again, wouldn’t I? I can’t hold him any more. All I can do is pray
that You will take care of him. (looking upward, pleading) Will You?
Please? Take care of my boy?

The End


1 Comment »

  1. Hi!

    I just wanted to let you know that your skits are wonderful! I am doing a play for Holy Week at my church and I would love to use some of your ideas! They have been a blessing!

    Comment by Jessica — February 18, 2008 @ 9:41 pm | Reply

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