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This series of dramatic readings is to be used as part of a Maundy Thursday service. Note that each speaker speaks twice, with the order of speaking reversed the second time.

Appropriate musical pieces (choral or instrumental) should be used to separate each character's testimony, or at least the two statements made by Peter, since each statement is presented from a different perspective.

Mary: I am Mary from Magdala in Galilee. People say I had fits, had demons. I would fall down and I remember that nothing helped. Eventually, I moved to this city, where I fell in a different way, into a bad way of life. I lost all hope.

Then --aI remember the first time I saw him. I was overcome. I don't know why, even now. I couldn't help myself. I started to cry. I hadn't cried in a long, long time. I made a spectacle of myself, really.

It was at the house of Simon -- the Pharisee, not the Rock -- people everywhere, and in the middle there he was. I burst into tears. I fell at his feet. I felt such a release, a letting go. I poured oil on his feet and rubbed it in with my hair.

Simon -- the Pharisee, not the Rock -- was irate, but Jesus told him why I was. He said I loved him more because he had forgiven me more.

And he had. I had done so many foolish things, so many bad things, made so many bad choices, and -- he forgave me. I was loved, for me, no matter what I had done.

I followed him from that day forward.

Now -- I am lost again. We are lost. He's gone. Dead. We --awe had hope. I had hope. For the first time. And now. What will we do?

Thomas: I am Thomas, the twin.

Well, it's over. What will we do now? No one knows.

Too much has happened. None of it makes sense.

I never understood the rituals. All this dunking and sprinkling and washing. This laying on of hands and speaking in riddles. I wanted things to be clear, things called by their proper names, no dancing about. I tried to make sense of it. I wanted to know the plan, wanted to know where we were going.

I don't understand anything anymore. Everything is upside down.

On Sunday we're the talk of Jerusalem. Our expectations are grand, suddenly, after all the confusing time on the journey. By Thursday Jesus is talking about betrayals and farewells. Then Judas -- the unspeakable traitor! -- Judas sells us out.

Judas: I am Judas from Kerioth in Judah. I settle my accounts. I keep track of things, count money, make budgets, figure the cost, calculate the risk.

I cannot abide waste -- oil squandered on an anointing, opportunities for advancement missed -- I invested in the man, don't you see? Gave him my time, my expertise --aI saw promise. There was a future here. We had a chance to become -- well, there was no limit. Potential return on investment -- 100 -- no -- 1,000 percent.

But he insisted --ainsisted on throwing it away. I felt cheated. Bitter? Yes, I was bitter as vinegar. All that effort, all those plans. Gone to dust.

And those "disciples." Fools, every one. Incompetents and sycophants. Hanging on his every word, but not understanding a single one. Let's see how they get along without him now. Peter the Rock, indeed. More like an impetuous clod of dirt. And Mary. Always hanging about. Every time I turn around, she's anointing him! The others, too. Fools, I say.

I grew disillusioned. He wouldn't listen to me. What's the use giving unheeded advice? I grant you, he had a way about him, and some marketable skills. He could make them stand up and walk, all right. But he wouldn't charge for it. Never took gifts from the grateful. Missing chances to take hold, to make something of himself.

And this latest. He lets the woman -- that woman -- pour a fortune of oil over him -- a year's wages! -- and then he kills any chance of a deal with the temple priests -- we could have had a cut of that concession if we'd played it right!

It grew time to settle accounts. I always get a return on my investments. One way or the other.

Peter: Yes, I'm Peter. I'll admit it now -- now that it's too late. I wish I had died with him. I wish I had died instead of him.

Who am I kidding? I said I didn't know him. I ran away. I hid. I was so scared. Some Rock.

I could kill the traitor Judas, that bean counter. What's the use? It's too late. And I am no better than he. We all allowed this to happen. Why didn't we see it coming?

He did. That supper two nights ago. He washed our feet, and said we were to remember him. Who could forget it? But what is there to remember? What can we do now?

Musical interlude

Peter: Then they put him on the cross. It was about nine in the morning, after we had been up all night, running all over Jerusalem, hearing rumors, hiding. Confusion.

We heard he was to be crucified.

The crowd was huge, even at that hour of the morning. Word had spread among the people. Everybody wanted to see. I stayed well back, in the crowd. I couldn't see well. Couldn't hear anything but hawkers and dogs and restless children. Morning conversations from sleepy Passover crowds.

A shout went up when the nails went home. A carpenter's son joined to the wood. And then I saw the tops of the crosses above the crowd, up on the hill, the place of skulls.

I couldn't stay there anymore. It was too much. I wandered through the streets and tried to think. I couldn't think. I was so tired. I was so alone. How could I have left him in his hour of need? And now it's too late.

Judas: I went to see the account closed.

The trial had been rougher than I had imagined. He didn't say anything -- or anything much -- in his defense. "Are you the Messiah?" he was asked. "You say that I am,"ahe answered. He didn't bother to answer the other questions.

I gave my testimony, and it was well received. I told only the truth, no more and no less. The man got beyond himself, and he broke the law, and he deserved to be punished. I am not sorry. I am not sorry.

I had a good view of the crucifixion. Guest of honor, you might say. I must admit he took it well. He touched me, almost, the way he suffered. He even looked my way once. He didn't say anything. But those eyes!

I didn't expect that.

I began to rethink this.

Thomas: It was a long day. About noon it got dark when the clouds rolled over. No one thought anything of it -- just shade from the sun. The thunder growled and once or twice I thought the earth trembled, but the crowd had nowhere to go.

I wanted to see. I got up close, pushed my way to the front. I stepped on a few toes along the way, believe me. When I got there, I wished I hadn't. I saw the soldiers hammer the spikes home, heard him bark with the pain, saw the blood, and smelled the intensity of the crowd. When the soldiers raised the cross to set it upright, he cried out again with the pain -- but when they offered him the drugged wine to blunt the pain, he refused. He was filthy, and the dogs were running among the crosses, his and the other two. The soldiers laughed and gambled and ignored him. The crowd yelled insults.

By three, it was done. We had a storm then, and we all got soaked. Some of us wept, too.

Mary: He changed my life. He loved me. He showed me that all people might love each other. His death has left me empty.

I tried to hide my weeping.

What did he think about as he was hanging there for those six hours? His life? The decisions he had made? The failings of his followers? His terror and anguish? Or some mystery, some dream of holiness?

I am going to anoint his body one last time. It's the least I can do. But, oh! It's the most I can do, too.

I must be careful. There are soldiers about!