Up until COVID-19 closed the churches, my choir and my son’s choir were practicing for a combined Easter cantata, one of his childhood favorites. His idea: “Your choir knows this, mine knows this, so we can just do it together at each church. I’ll lead the music. You can take care of the drama, Mom.”
Thanks, Boy.
But I got rolling.
We were one week away from the performance when everything shut down. Will we be able have the Easter production later this year? We don’t know … which reminds me of a complication the first time we attempted this drama about Jesus …
With no Jesus …
*******
Once upon a time, I started college to major in theater arts. I’d performed in plays all through high school, which lead to community theater. That’s where I met my husband. Never got that degree … a story for another day. My husband went into the ministry two years after we married and my love of theater took the form of small church productions.
Which grew bigger.
And bigger.
One year our choir director asked if I would help her look for an Easter cantata with a play: “People don’t come for plain old cantatas anymore. They’ll come if we add a play …”
We found a cantata we loved, but … only narration, no acting.
“Can’t you write one?” the choir director wanted to know. “I’ll handle the choir if you’ll handle the play.”
I opened my mouth to say No! but before I could speak it, something tugged on the sleeve of my mind (that is not a mixed metaphor, it’s what happened) and so I said, in a teeny-tiny voice:
“I’ll try…”
I listened to the songs over and over; they happen to form an ideal sequence for the last week of Jesus’ life. As I listened, I wrote the scenes as they materialized in my head … no speaking parts, just stage directions based on lyrics while the choir sings. Beginning with the busy streets of Jerusalem, people greeting one another, lining up with palm branches as Jesus walks through—Hosanna! Hosanna!—moving into the Last Supper with the twelve disciples, the garden scene, the betrayal, the arrest, the Roman soldiers gambling for the robe, the mourning of Mary the mother at the Cross with John, the distress of Mary Magdalene, the tomb, the Resurrection, Jesus reuniting with his disciples, even a scene of martyrs for the faith and a grand finale …
I figured out set pieces that would have to be made. Props that would have to be acquired. I came up with a head count of people—twenty-five!— seventeen of them men—Why were there SO MANY disciples?!—and asked if any ladies at church would be willing to make all these Bible costumes. Six of them took it on. Everything fell into place. I cast the parts …
All except for Jesus.
Which is kind of a problem.
My main issue: I didn’t want a fake-looking Jesus. If we had to put a wig and beard on some guy … it was going to detract. It would cheapen the whole thing. And: Who was going to be comfortable playing this part, anyway? In such a case, how does a church go about finding a Jesus? A believable one? It’s not like you can put an ad in the paper: Wanted: Church seeks Jesus … people would read that and purse their lips: “Tsk tsk, you church people, you oughta have Jesus already …”
I grew more nervous with each passing day: We still don’t have a Jesus…
And then one Sunday, from my vantage point in the choir loft, I spotted visitors out in the congregation. A woman and a man.
A man with long brown hair.
And a beard.
He was kind of olive-skinned …
When they came back the following week, I could have sworn he was wearing sandals.
I said to my husband: “Give me that guy’s number off the visitor’s card.”
“He’s only been here twice! How are you going to just call him up and ask him to be Jesus in this thing!”
“I am just going to do it. The worst he can say is No.”
And so I called. The conversation went something like this:
“Um, hi, I know you don’t know me, I’m the pastor’s wife at the church, we’re glad you and your wife have been joining us recently … welcome, welcome … I have sort of a question for you … see, we’re preparing to do an Easter production and it’s all set except for one little thing … we, um, don’t have a Jesus … when I saw you last Sunday, I knew you’d be perfect … was wondering if you would help us … there’s no lines to learn or anything, it’s really easy and fun, just reenacting the last week of Jesus’ life while the choir sings …”
He chuckled. “Okay, sure.”
“Wha— I’m sorry … did you say yes?”
“Yes, I’ll do it.”
“You—you will? Wow! Thank you! That’s awesome! I think you’ll enjoy it. I mean, we wouldn’t, like, really hang you on a cross or anything …” <relieved laugh>
Another warm chuckle: “It would be okay if you did. I’m full of nail holes anyway—I’m a carpenter.”
lit bits and pieces 
Fran, I have been following your writings for quite awhile. You are such a talented writer! I have never commented, but I too felt that tug of the sleeve as I read this! I so remember that play with our Jesus!!! It was amazing and one vivid memory is Jesus going out in front of the church before the play with arms spread wide open! It was a very moving production that I fell so blessed to have been a part of!
Fondly,
“Mary, mother of Jesus”, honored but so unworthy. Very humbling experience
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It was amazing and humbling, a blessing, as are your words today. Hard to believe that was seventeen years ago … I will never forget his response! The sense of awe stays with me to this day. I’ve told the story many times but have never written it ’til now. Never dreamed “Mary the mother” would read and reply 🙂 How beautifully you and the others played your parts. My deepest thanks to you – God bless you and all yours.
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Thank you Fran and know that you and your family are prayed for and fondly thought of often! Stay safe, stay well and most importantly, stay the course!
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Fran, this is a Jesus moment for sure. I have goosebumps right now. Thank you for capturing this moment so beautifully.
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I still get goosebumps myself, remembering. He’s still playing the part for us. Thank you, Christine.
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Meant to be… I wonder about his response. I know acting out the part of Jesus can be profound for the actor. Do you know how he responded after the play?
I wrote a Passion Play long ago when I was the Christian Ed teacher at an Episcopal school. The 4th graders performed it. One year I’ll never forget one boys’ younger brother was dying from a brain tumor. The younger one sat in a wheel chair as his brother played the part of Simon and I thought of how this boy would have taken the cross for his brother. Thanks for conjuring this memory today.
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He’s still playing our Jesus, seventeen years later. Says it’s the unique ministry he’s been given. I took the photo during our Christmas parade last November. Your passion play… the boys… that’s profound. A memory and story wrapped around and through the heart forever.
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I truly believe God sends us just what/who we need when we need them. Thanks for sharing wonderful story.
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He does. Thank you for reading & your words, Rita.
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I absolutely loved your slice.
To know that your “savior” came in this form is satisfying on every level. The complexion, the profession, the disposition – it all somehow came together in the way that everything intended to.
Amazing, isn’t it, how that happens?
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Thank you and was it ever intended to be … geez, I hadn’t even MADE the savior/Savior connection…! Masterful, Lainie! Yes, it’s amazing how things come together when the time is right. Looking back, I see what a lesson it was in patience and in taking a risk, a leap of faith … hmmm … may be another reason the memory returns to me now.
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Memory is pretty smart like that.
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I have to admit, when I read “You can take care of the drama, Mom.”, I thought he was referring to conflict between the choirs, expecting you to mediate…now that you’ve shared your theater background, I’ll know better if that comes up again in your writings!
There was a verbal OMG that issued from my lips when your Jesus said he was a carpenter. Another Godbreeze if there ever was one. Did he perform in any other subsequent Easter plays?
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Yes – seventeen years later, he still plays the role of Jesus in our production! We don’t do it every year and this Easter is the first time we would have taken it on the road, in collaboration with my son’s church. I couldn’t wait to hear both choirs together and to see people’s responses … hopefully we can still pull it off later this year. As other churches learned of our Jesus, we periodically loaned him out, but only if the other church promises to give him back as he’s OUR Jesus, lol. I love that word “Godbreeze,” Chris.
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I needed this story today. It gave me chills even before I got to the last line! God works in mysterious and beautiful ways, doesn’t He?
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-Always. Thank you, Sarah, for reading and for letting me know about the chills. I still get them, myself. 🙂
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How amazing is that! Is he still part of your church? I love the comment about being a carpenter full of nail holes, hilarious. You capture the dialogue and everything so well. I’m sure it was an incredible performance!
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Sorry just saw in one comment that he is still there….!
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Thanks so much! Part of my reason for writing is to preserve that moment and that astonishing response… although I can’t imagine forgetting it …
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Dangerous for me to stop by your blog because I can get sucked into story after story. This is one I’ll remember for a long time. “I’m full of nail holes anyway—I’m a carpenter.” You found a perfect Jesus.
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Ramona, it fills me with great joy that you find my blog dangerous in this way! I will never forget that moment … thank you for your words.
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