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DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE:
The Houseguest
…Jesus entered a village where a woman named Martha welcomed
him to her home. She had a sister named Mary, who seated herself
at the Lord’s feet and listened to his words. Martha, who was busy
with all the details of hospitality, came to him and said, “Lord, are
you not concerned that my sister has left me to do the household
tasks all alone? Tell her to help me.”
The Lord in reply said to her: “Martha, Martha, you are
anxious and upset about many things; one thing only is required.
Mary has chosen the better portion and she shall not be deprived
of it.” The Gospel According to Luke, Chapter 10,
Verses 38-42
him to her home. She had a sister named Mary, who seated herself
at the Lord’s feet and listened to his words. Martha, who was busy
with all the details of hospitality, came to him and said, “Lord, are
you not concerned that my sister has left me to do the household
tasks all alone? Tell her to help me.”
The Lord in reply said to her: “Martha, Martha, you are
anxious and upset about many things; one thing only is required.
Mary has chosen the better portion and she shall not be deprived
of it.” The Gospel According to Luke, Chapter 10,
Verses 38-42
Abba, Abba, Abba, Abba, Abba!
I am an alien with these humans.
I know we talked this out before I came,
But really living with them is so much
More painful than I thought that it would be.
Not all of them, of course. The parents that
You chose for me are wonderful. Mama’s
Patience is infinite, and Papa too
Obeys your will with every breath he takes.
And yet the other humans do not seem
To value all the gifts my parents have.
The light within my mother’s heart—no one
Even notices that the glow is there.
It is as though their eyes are closed. And she,
It seems, is all alone in knowing what
My work will be. At the wedding, it was
Mama who told me they were out of wine.
She said it with a gently prodding look,
As if she knew I was afraid to start--
Afraid of where it all would lead, but she
Was right. The time has come, and all my fears
Are coming true. I know I have to do
My duty as your son and try to help
The children of this lovely world you made.
And it is such a lovely world—the doves
At dawn—the colors of the sky at dusk--
The scent of orange blossoms in the spring--
Even the desert with its scorching stones--
The honeybees, the ants, the dogs with hearts
Throbbing and full of love. Why is it that
The humans spit and step on all these jewels
You gave to them for free? It isn’t just
Their lack of faith, though that amazes me.
It is their total lack of gratitude.
And I cannot believe their selfishness.
Protect me, Abba, from their selfishness.
This Martha, my hostess in Bethany,
Why did you have to send me here to her?
I would be happier to sleep on stones
Than suffer through her hospitality.
Even before the cock has crowed, she is
Banging around the kitchen with her pots
And fussing with her oven and her bread
And bragging to the neighbors how she has
To press her own olives and grind the flour
Because the Great Rabbi is staying here
In her own house and sleeping in her bed.
She doesn’t mind, of course, having to sleep
Up on the roof. No sacrifice is more
Than she could do for her distinguished guest.
Abba, it makes me sick to hear her talk
Like that. I see her heart, and everything
She does is for herself. Even her prayers.
Her voice is loud so all the neighbors know
How close she is to you. And she eats more
Of all that fancy bread than Lazarus
And her quiet sister Mary and I
Could all three eat together in a day.
I see the light in little Mary’s heart--
How hard she tries to find the path to you,
Searching for stillness while Martha goes on
About the neighbors with their seven sons--
Why can’t their mother discipline them right
And keep them clean and feed them properly--
All this, of course, is in that voice of hers
That they can probably hear in Golgotha.
Martha, who has no children of her own,
Why can’t she stop to feel what it is like
To care for seven boys and live your laws?
But she is not alone. In towns and squares
And temples everywhere, I hear fathers
Bragging about their sons with childless men
And women standing near. And businessmen
Counting their money as the beggars cry
For food. These men make Martha seem almost
Devout. Abba, I know I make you sad
With these complaints. These humans are my kin.
They are my body and my blood. You know
What I will do to prove my love for them,
Though we agreed that I would live each day
And do your will a moment at a time,
Not thinking of the day I fear the most
But trusting you to give me all the strength
I need for each new task. Today I need
To help Martha, to be her loving friend
And her brother. But I am at a loss
What I will do when once again I hear
That voice. Abba, here I am, in your hands--
Help me! I hear the other voices too,
The twelve you sent to help me do my work,
Though they’re about as helpful as Martha.
That’s Peter’s voice, the loudest of them all.
Abba, protect me from my friend Peter!
And here she comes. Please, tell me what to say.
Abba, Abba, Abba, Abba, Abba!
I am an alien with these humans.
I know we talked this out before I came,
But really living with them is so much
More painful than I thought that it would be.
Not all of them, of course. The parents that
You chose for me are wonderful. Mama’s
Patience is infinite, and Papa too
Obeys your will with every breath he takes.
And yet the other humans do not seem
To value all the gifts my parents have.
The light within my mother’s heart—no one
Even notices that the glow is there.
It is as though their eyes are closed. And she,
It seems, is all alone in knowing what
My work will be. At the wedding, it was
Mama who told me they were out of wine.
She said it with a gently prodding look,
As if she knew I was afraid to start--
Afraid of where it all would lead, but she
Was right. The time has come, and all my fears
Are coming true. I know I have to do
My duty as your son and try to help
The children of this lovely world you made.
And it is such a lovely world—the doves
At dawn—the colors of the sky at dusk--
The scent of orange blossoms in the spring--
Even the desert with its scorching stones--
The honeybees, the ants, the dogs with hearts
Throbbing and full of love. Why is it that
The humans spit and step on all these jewels
You gave to them for free? It isn’t just
Their lack of faith, though that amazes me.
It is their total lack of gratitude.
And I cannot believe their selfishness.
Protect me, Abba, from their selfishness.
This Martha, my hostess in Bethany,
Why did you have to send me here to her?
I would be happier to sleep on stones
Than suffer through her hospitality.
Even before the cock has crowed, she is
Banging around the kitchen with her pots
And fussing with her oven and her bread
And bragging to the neighbors how she has
To press her own olives and grind the flour
Because the Great Rabbi is staying here
In her own house and sleeping in her bed.
She doesn’t mind, of course, having to sleep
Up on the roof. No sacrifice is more
Than she could do for her distinguished guest.
Abba, it makes me sick to hear her talk
Like that. I see her heart, and everything
She does is for herself. Even her prayers.
Her voice is loud so all the neighbors know
How close she is to you. And she eats more
Of all that fancy bread than Lazarus
And her quiet sister Mary and I
Could all three eat together in a day.
I see the light in little Mary’s heart--
How hard she tries to find the path to you,
Searching for stillness while Martha goes on
About the neighbors with their seven sons--
Why can’t their mother discipline them right
And keep them clean and feed them properly--
All this, of course, is in that voice of hers
That they can probably hear in Golgotha.
Martha, who has no children of her own,
Why can’t she stop to feel what it is like
To care for seven boys and live your laws?
But she is not alone. In towns and squares
And temples everywhere, I hear fathers
Bragging about their sons with childless men
And women standing near. And businessmen
Counting their money as the beggars cry
For food. These men make Martha seem almost
Devout. Abba, I know I make you sad
With these complaints. These humans are my kin.
They are my body and my blood. You know
What I will do to prove my love for them,
Though we agreed that I would live each day
And do your will a moment at a time,
Not thinking of the day I fear the most
But trusting you to give me all the strength
I need for each new task. Today I need
To help Martha, to be her loving friend
And her brother. But I am at a loss
What I will do when once again I hear
That voice. Abba, here I am, in your hands--
Help me! I hear the other voices too,
The twelve you sent to help me do my work,
Though they’re about as helpful as Martha.
That’s Peter’s voice, the loudest of them all.
Abba, protect me from my friend Peter!
And here she comes. Please, tell me what to say.
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