Trusting Through Crisis

Mary, the mother of Jesus, after the crucifixion, contemplates trusting God in her time of crisis This monologue takes Mary through some very rough stages of her life with her Son, Jesus. She says "my little boy is dead, why?" She questions where God was. She asks for a Comforter to quell her unbelief. She knows she has peace with God, and she knows this tragedy will make her strong.

Run-Time: 8

Cast: monologue, middle-aged woman

Costume: likely traditional

Sample of script:

(The actress enters the stage, her face heavy with sorrow.)

MARY:

He is gone. He is dead. My little boy is . . . dead.

Why did he have to come here, to Jerusalem? Oh, I know why he came here, but I mean . . . why did he . . . have to . . . come . . . here?

I tried to warn him. Goodness knows Pontius Pilate, Herod Antipas, the Sanhedrin— all of that lot— made no bones about the fact they all wanted to see my son silenced. What better time than during the celebration at the temple?

Everything about him infuriated them, it seemed—his statements, his actions, his attitude, his . . . .

If only feelings hadn’t become so polarized.

You should have seen the crowds. The crowds.

The crowd a week ago as he made that triumphal entry. Everyone, literally falling out of trees, cheering him on.

How could it be that the very same people were so full of hatred, mocking him, demanding his death, just a few days later? At what point did the cheering die on their lips, to be replaced by impassioned demands for innocent blood?

Was it only yesterday that they held that mock trial and sentenced him to . . . .

I can’t think about it. . . . I won’t think about it.

What can I do? I am alone. Oh, of course, his friends try to do their best to comfort and sustain me. Especially John. But John, like all the rest, is personally devastated, unable to sustain himself, let alone provide solace to a grieving widow woman, alone.

Looking back, my life seems to have been a series of overwhelming happenings—some pleasant, many not so pleasant. A cascading sequence of unsolicited calamities and crises, stretching me, sometimes ripping at my very life.

The visit of the angel with the news of my pregnancy. The vicious talk among the neighbors. Jesus leaving my house to travel throughout the country—who knows where, and with whom. Turning his back on his family.

One thing after another. But none like this.

This is a crisis beyond me. I need to think. I need to think—what would be the advice my son would give if he were here?

But . . . he . . . is . . . not . . . here! And he should be here! He should be here with his aging, alone, widowed mother who needs him and who demands that he is here, right this minute, right now, beside me, where he ought to be, where he . . .

I need to think of his advice. . . I need to remember his advice . . .

What was his advice?

"Do not let anything trouble your heart. You believe in God, and you must believe in me also."

Believe in you? Of course, I believe in you! But . . . you . . . are . . . gone! And as to my troubled heart . . . you simply have no idea of how this most awful crisis has played out on the state of my troubled heart!

Want to see how the story unfolds? DramaShare members get this complete script— and access to our entire library—free! Not a member? You can still grab this individual script and bring it to life.