Sample of JesusXJudas

Penitent Magdalene by Antonio Ciseri (1864)

Characters

Judy: 25, female, embodies the kind of butchiness only seen in new age Christian women who run the Christian rock portion of service like the Navy, completely unaware, wants it all.

Ariella: 25 female, Jewish, queer, belief and faith over matter, always.

Eric: 30-35, male, beatnik wannabe, contains the mercy of a Greek god.

Location

Somewhere in Appalachian Pennsylvania, summertime, any time.

Content Disclosures

Antisemitism, domestic violence, mentions of death, mentions of murder, and arguably some levels of sacrilege.

Note on staging/dialogue

Stage directions can be either metaphorical or literal and used in any way a creative team chooses; artistic liberties with direction are encouraged to be taken. A director is welcome to insert an ensemble, dream ballets, music, etc. Make the atmosphere a character of its own. A higher, divine power should constantly be present and felt in every aspect of design and tech.

/ denotes another character interrupting a line

SCENE 1-JESUS AS SON AND BROTHER

JUDY walks into the middle of the bare stage. She wears a white T-shirt, white shorts, and white socks. She takes a moment to look at the audience.

JUDY

Don’t get me wrong,

I enjoyed it

but

She was kissing me.

I wasn’t kissing her.

There is a difference.

Laughing, shouting, flashing, growing sound of an organ, a lion’s roar. Judy runs off.

ARIELLA enters. An olive orchard grows around her.

ARIELLA

Did Jesus feel as if he had a father?

Really, did he feel that God was his father, really, truly?

Did Jesus just have to have faith that God was his father?

Just as we all have faith that our mothers aren’t lying cheaters

That when she says someone is our father, we believe her?

God is everyone’s Heavenly Father, so what made Jesus special?

Our Heavenly Father.

Dear Heavenly Father.

“Hallowed be thy name.”

Your name is sacred.

Which name? Father or God?

Forgive me for all that I am

Forgive me for all that I am not

Forgive me for all that I could have been

Should have been

Would have been.

What is a father?

Is he someone who protects you? Creates you? Defines you?

His last name is claimed, but what’s in a name?

Is a father someone who rules over you?

How did Jesus feel knowing that, above all, he would be remembered for his relationship with his father? Did he feel embarrassed, even a little bit?

Does “father” start and end with the impregnation of a woman?

The Virgin Mary. Humanly virgin, divinely…

Was she really a virgin?

Apologies for my forwardness, but-

Can God have sex?

We are created in God’s image; sex is a part of our image.

Moreover, can God marry? Did God divinely marry Mary in order to impregnate her? Does marriage mean anything to God?

Does God have genitals? A gender even?

Do we just call Him “father” because we don’t know another name for an absent, distant being that controls and defines our lives in every single way?

Jesus could not prove who his father was, but his mother was undeniably his.

That’s actually a defining feature of Judaism and why we consider a child Jewish through their mother.

You can’t prove who the father is, but anyone who was present for those nine months leading up to the birth can attest to who the mother is.

Did Jesus, as a Jewish man, ever contemplate this? Did Mary, as a Jewish woman, feel complete ownership of her son? That he was hers and hers alone? Was there ever a drop of doubt that he was simply fatherless? Or maybe even a bastard child? That his mother was a lying whore?

The night before he was crucified, Jesus prayed for his father to save him, sweaty forehead pressed into the dirt of the Mount of Olives.

Fathers always seem to have a grand plan.

Does Jesus ever think of himself as more than a son, more than a plan?

Nuns believe that they are married to Jesus.

That’s beautiful.

In a way.

Until I think about how many nuns there are.

I’d prefer to think of Jesus as a brother.

And we share a ruthless, absent father, whom we can only have faith in.

Have faith that He knows what’s best.

Have faith that He truly loves us.

And all we can do is pray and hope that He is listening.

Sudden truck headlights on Ariella. The olive trees die. Ariella runs off.

Judy saunters back on, no longer dressed in white. Birds chirping. Tree branches swaying. Lazy Sunday.

JUDY

What I know, I know from books.

Stories of gods and goddesses,

Creatures living in attics

Making visits on dumbwaiters.

And what I know now

Is Ariella.

I watch from the window like a ghost

As she drags suitcases down the driveway.

She trips over a crack in the pavement.

The crack that always gets me.

The crack that makes Eric curse.

When Eric curses, lightning strikes

And tree trunks split in half.

Eric is gone.

He’s traveling with a group of fellow misunderstood artists.

In the story he tells, I’m the misunderstander.

Every misunderstood artist needs a misunderstand-er to run away from, at least for a little while.

It feels good to run away, to be angry and misunderstood, I get it.

I’m on the run myself.

Eric’s house is for fellow misunderstood runaways, a haven for those who fell through the cracks a long time ago.

It’s his house.

Well, actually, it was his dad’s house that he used to rent out to weary travelers looking for somewhere cheap and comfortably hidden away from the world.

It was handed down,

A place to live,

Way out in the woods of Pennsylvania.

A place where his father’s word, now his, is final.

His own Roman empire.

And I’ve known so many within:

Bill and Bill, who spent most of their time inside a parked van in the driveway.

Secret lovers with an appetite for snow.

Mary, who cooked enough soup to feed a family of three, always happy to share.

Cassie, who went through cigarettes like potato chips and ate Nutella by the tubful.

Stella, who left stick-on nails scattered on the front steps

And whose daughter secretly slept in the shed in the back with her newborn.

Last week, Eric called to tell me about a new wanderer joining the long list in our guest book.

A newly orphaned Jewish girl looking to run away from the city. Ariella is her name. Eric let me know that she specified her name meant “lioness of God” in Hebrew. Whatever that means.

And now she trips over the crack,

Smiles

And as she walks, leaves swirl and dance around her feet.

Ariella enters with a comical amount of luggage. Judy and Ariella come face to face.

ARIELLA

You must be the matron of the home.

JUDY

And you must be the lioness I’ve heard whispers of. I’m Judy

ARIELLA

Ariella.

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