Witness to a Murder ~ A Collection of Easter Monologues

Witnesses to a Murder
By Taryn 

(3/04/04)

Roman Soldier, head of execution

I’ve just killed a Man.
Not just any Man, but the Son of God.
Yes, I was the one ordered to hammer the nails in His hands and feet.
And it was me, again, who pierced His side with my spear.
Maybe I should have refused.
There was something different about this Man.
No complaint came from His lips the entire time He was on that cross.
People were actually there, crying for Him.
He was loved, unlike the other two on their crosses.
Certainly, this Man was innocent.
I think I heard Him tell His Father to forgive us,
because we didn’t know what we were doing.
In my heart I know that we have been pardoned for our actions.
I just wonder what will come of this day.

Simon Peter, Apostle of Christ

I helped kill my Lord.
I was there when they came and took Him.
Sure, I cut off one man’s ear,
but He rebuked me and healed him.
I should’ve fought harder.
Given it all I had.
But instead, I turned and ran.
Like a coward.
I’m not usually a coward.
I’m usually brash and head strong.
When I went to the courts to see what was happening to Him,
I denied Him three times.
He even predicted that I would do it, but I didn’t listen.
I can’t believe I cursed the girl who asked me if I were a follower.
I’m not worthy to be in His inner circle.
Now He’s dead.
The earth has shaken, the darkness that was upon us for three hours has lifted,
but my Lord is dead and I helped kill Him.

Pontius Pilate, Governor of the Jews

I ordered an innocent Man to be killed.
It wasn’t entirely my fault.
No, I let the people decide.
I thought the public was smarter,
but I guess their minds are very impressionable.
I thought, Surely they would pick this kind Man over Barabbas, a murderer.
But they didn’t.
I could have stopped them.
My wife even warned me about a dream she had, telling me not to convict Him.
But I murdered the King of the Jews.
No one else but me.

Mary, mother of Jesus

My first born Son has died.
My people’s Messiah is dead.
I wish I had followed Him.
Followed Him His whole life, even after He left home.
But He was a full-grown Man.
Every mother has to let her children go sometime.
Maybe if I had kept Him with me, this all wouldn’t have happened.
He might still be alive and performing miracles.
But if I had kept Him, He probably wouldn’t have done any of those miracles.
I can’t believe I didn’t stop my Child from being killed
I should have fought like a mother bear.
But women are unimportant here.
No one would have listened to me.
Not only have I just watched my own flesh and blood die, but my Savior.
He’s gone now and it seems all hope is lost.

Nicodemus, Pharisee

The great Teacher is dead.
I remember the first time I went to Him, in the dark of night.
He seemed to be expecting me.
He told me about rebirth through above.
I, a ruler of the Jews, couldn’t comprehend what He was saying.
But He never made me feel ignorant.
He answered my questions wholeheartedly.
He wanted me to understand.
When I heard the other Pharisees defaming Him,
I tried to stick up for Him, but it didn’t help.
As a scholar, I knew about the prophecies.
So, when messengers came to the temple and reported all that was transpiring,
I knew He was making atonement for our sins.
I quickly found out where Jesus was and started toward Him
when the veil separating the holy place was torn from top to bottom.
The earth shook and rocks cracked as I promptly made my way up the hill.
He was already dead when I got there.
Now, all I can do is help my friend Joseph put Him in a tomb.

Joseph of Arimathea, member of the High Council

I didn’t stop Jesus’ death.
As a member of the Sanhedrim, and a secret follower of Jesus,
I could have some how stopped them.
But I wasn’t brave enough.
That is until after He died.
When I found out He was dead,
I boldly asked Pilate for His body.
Now here I stand, staring at this beaten shell of a Man.
There’s no trace of what He once was.
My friend Nicodemus has offered to help me with the burial.
It’s so painful to have to bury Him, though.
I can only hope something will come of this ordeal.
Something for the better good.

Simon of Cyrene

I carried the cross of my Messiah.
I helped take Him to His death.
Me of all people.
A follower of Him had to carry the ‘weapon’ through which they killed Him.
Maybe it’s for the better.
Someone else wouldn’t have had the same heart as a follower.
The whole time I walked behind Him,
I could only think of the words He said the one time I was able to hear Him teach in person.
"Take up your cross and follow Me."
Well, I took up His cross and followed Him to His death.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.

Mary Magdalene, follower of Jesus

My Jesus is dead.
Killed on a cross used for criminals.
But the only ‘crime’ He committed was that of healing.
That same ‘crime’ that put Him on this cross, was how I met Him.
He cast seven demons from my body.
Those demons’ tormenting powers were taken away by Him.
Because of that, I knew He was the Messiah.
I knew the real Messiah would care for His people.
But the Jewish leaders were jealous and took Him away.
Because of their jealousy, my Jesus was beaten!
They spit on, whipped, mocked, and hurt my Jesus!
The same Man who had taken away my pain,
was now in the most horrible pain I can imagine.
When they made Him walk up to Golgotha,
I, and several other women, followed Him, weeping and mourning.
He turned to us and told us to stop crying for Him.
He told us to cry for ourselves and children,
because perilous times are coming.
I remember thinking, But can’t You see Yourself!
You’re covered in blood and hardly recognizable!
You can barely walk! There’s a reason for our tears!
And now He’s dead and His suffering is gone with Him.

Dying Thief

My Savior is dead, but He’s not gone forever.
I’ll be joining Him soon.
I’d heard of Him before, but I’d always blown off His teachings.
There was just too much preaching against my profession.
Now, I wouldn’t trade dying on this cross for anything.
Sure, the nails and freshly broken legs hurt, but I met the Messiah!
The broken legs are almost a blessing,
because it’s that much sooner that I’ll be seeing Him again.
He forgave me for all my sins and for not believing Him sooner.
Believe me, my sins were no small deed. If they were, I wouldn’t be within a mile of this place.
But because they put me here, I’m able to know I’m forgiven
by the Man who died because of my sins.
I’m going to paradise today and no one can stop me.