(This is a monologue I wrote for a Christmas play we did several years ago. It was inspired in part by Rainer Rilke’s Second Duino Elegy and by parts of C.S. Lewis’ writings.)
(Lights up. A coffee shop table is center stage. A man enters and sits down.)
You can call me Kim. That’s not my name, but when I tell people my real name, it leads to all sorts of awkward questions. “Where are you from? How long have you been here? How old are you?” I can’t really answer them, and it’s … difficult to lie. The fact of the matter is that I spend a certain amount of time undercover, looking like this. To stay disguised, I can’t just walk in, sit down, and say “My name is Lochemiel, and I am one of the numberless soldiers in the hosts of the Most High.”
That felt good.
As I was saying, I don’t always look like this. As we’re sent out on His work, some of us go in brightness, clothed in His glory, and some of us walk in dark places, disguised in rags for the journey. Ah, but you should have seen us on that night, the night we sang of His birth, the greatest and most shining one of Heaven, born in a stable in Bethlehem. Why was He there? We didn’t know. We sang of peace between God and men, we sang for joy, we sang glory to our mighty King. We didn’t know exactly why we sang, only that it was part of the Plan. So we sang, because it is our fiercest joy to obey Him, to do His will, to serve Him in every fiber of our beings. We sang, and our audience was a ragged bunch of shepherds; but our true audience was (and always will be) our King, the eternal one whose glory floods the universe – and we reflected that glory.
Certainly, the shepherds were properly amazed.
For a time, many of us wore the disguise, keeping an eye on Him and watching Him grow. I walked near Him many times myself; I may have looked like a trader from Syria, but He knew who I was, even as a lad. The best disguise I’ve ever pulled off, and He saw right through it – I should have known. Never mind, it wasn’t Him we were trying to fool. As he grew older, some of us were always around Him, watching Him do things that amazed the humans, turning water into wine, feeding a crowd with a few loaves and fish; you know how it went. They should have been amazed at how little He did; if they could only have seen the amazing power in their midst, always under the tightest control …
And then one day the call went out, and we gathered as we have rarely gathered before, in our companies and hosts, the mighty armies of heaven spread out as far as eye could see. Light glinted from our blades as we prepared to ride forth to save Him, waiting for His call. At our head was Michael, the great captain, dangerous beyond belief as he walked behind the stars, ready to bring justice to the Betrayer.
In our ranks, we waited for the word, one word from His lips, ready to descend with fire and sword, and the very sight of our host would have exploded the hearts of His captors had they seen us. We waited and watched as they scourged Him, as they mocked Him (Him, who had made the very molecules of their beings!), as they whipped him through the streets towards the hill. We waited and watched as they nailed Him to the tree. We waited and watched as His Father left Him alone, and we waited – oh, we waited! – as He died.
And then he was there. The Betrayer, the rebel, the usurper – and he mocked us, calling us foolish slaves and weaklings, mindless sheep who could do nothing without orders. He laughed in Michael’s face, secure in his victory, and Michael could do nothing. (pause) None of us could do a thing.
On Earth, three days passed, as some men reckon it. And on the third, I received a summons from the Most High. “Go down to Jerusalem,” He ordered, “and roll away the stone.” I didn’t know what He had planned, but I am a member of the hosts, and my joy is in obedience. I descended, veiling myself from the eyes of the human guards, and I came into the garden by the tomb. I walked to the stone – and I let my disguise slip away, standing before the guards in my true form, shining with His glory. They fell down in fear as the earth shook, and I rolled the stone away and sat on it, waiting.
How can I say it? There are no words, other than the most bare description. He came forth. The power of death which entered the world so long ago broke and fell shivering at His feet. He came forth. The Betrayer felt that coming, and his fear and anger flashed across space so strongly I could taste it. He came forth, and in that instant, the Plan was made clear to us, and we – my brothers and I – we sang as we had not sung since that night over Bethlehem. “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and honor, and glory forever!”
That song is the song we will always sing now. But now – right now – I have things to do. It’s time for me to go back to being Kim, to carrying out His missions in the dark places. Keep your eyes open – perhaps you’ll see me around sometime, although you probably won’t recognize me. Just an ordinary man, doing ordinary things in an ordinary way.
But in my heart, I’m singing.
(He gathers his things and leaves the stage as the lights go down.)
