Nancy Painter writes: I wrote this as a dialogue for two women for our Good Friday service. It’s a hypothetical meeting of Mary and her cousin Elizabeth between the crucifixion and the resurrection. I think many people gloss over Good Friday because they know how the story ends, but the celebration on Easter is even more powerful when we’ve experienced the depths of despair felt by Jesus’ loved ones and followers in the days leading up to it.
Mary is sitting on a cushion on the floor, staring into space or quietly sobbing. At the sound of a knock, she rises and goes to the door, where she greets an aging Elizabeth.
Mary (reaches for Elizabeth’s hands): Cousin Elizabeth! What are you doing here, so far from home?
Elizabeth: My neighbours brought me. I was thinking about coming because this might be my last chance to come to Passover in Jerusalem, but once I heard what happened here yesterday, I knew I had to come. Oh, my child! (She hugs Mary, hard. Then Mary leads her in and helps her sit down on a second cushion.)
Mary: You must have been travelling all night! Would you like some water? Yes, I’ll get you some. (She bustles off before Elizabeth can stop her, returns with a clay mug of water.)
Elizabeth: Stop fussing and sit down. I didn’t come for water. I came to be with you. Let me hold your hand. I couldn’t believe it when I heard Jesus was gone—word spreads fast. How are you doing?
Mary: I hardly know what to say—I’m caught in a nightmare that I can’t wake up from. How could this have happened?
Elizabeth: It’s certainly not what we imagined when angels told us about the babies we’d bear.
Mary: I know! Our sons both had so much to give the world!
Elizabeth: I will never forget when I was well along with John and you came to visit me. He leaped so high in my womb, it almost scared me. But God told me it was a good sign.
Mary: “Do not be afraid.” That’s what the angel said to me, and to Joseph, too. We never imagined being afraid of something as terrible as this. Although, I guess I was warned. When we presented Jesus at the temple when he was a baby, Simeon declared to everyone that our child was the Messiah. But then he said to me that some would oppose him, and a sword would pierce my soul, too. I don’t think a sword could hurt any more than I’m hurting now. To witness him suffering so on that horrible cross.… And now he lies in a tomb.
Elizabeth: Sometimes it’s better that we don’t know what’s going to happen. If someone had told me John would be jailed and beheaded, I don’t know what I would have done. I might never have let him leave home.
Mary: Do you think it was always meant to end so brutally? Could we have done something different and prevented all this? I keep remembering that wedding in Cana, when they ran out of wine. Jesus didn’t want to do anything about it, but I nagged him until he had no choice. What if I’d left him alone to reveal himself when he was ready?
Elizabeth: No, don’t torture yourself like that! It was far beyond our control. God had a plan for both our boys, and the ones who hold power had their plans. There was nothing we could have done to change that. They both knew what the Lord had created them to do and they followed those paths.
Mary: You know I love all my children, but Jesus was always different, so focused, so wise. Maybe if he hadn’t confused people with riddles and stories…or told people such hard truths…
Elizabeth: But then he wouldn’t have been who he was meant to be. What if John hadn’t called the Pharisees and Sadducees a nest of vipers, or hadn’t told Herod it was a sin to steal his brother’s wife? Might he still be here? We’ll never know.
Mary: God’s way is not our way, isn’t that what the prophet Isaiah said? But I can’t help but wonder if God truly understands a mother’s grief.
Elizabeth: I’ve had more time to deal with this than you have. Not that it gets any easier, but I’ve thought about it a lot, and I think God grieves their deaths as much as we do. Because God certainly loves them as much or more than we do.
Mary Then God must love them very, very much.
(They hug each other and sit in silence for a moment. A hymn such as VU 182 “Stay with us through the night” might be sung or quiet music played as women exit together.)
Nancy Painter, Ladner U.C., Delta, B.C.
