The scene is the Upper Room, later in the evening after Jesus has been arrested. One by one, some of those who were close to Jesus find their way back to the room to reflect on the events of the evening.

I won’t deny him -- I don’t care what he says -- I know I won’t deny him. “Three times before morning,” he said. He just doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does. We’ve been through a lot together. Sure, I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth quite a few times and none of us have really understood all of the things he’s said. But that doesn’t mean I don’t plan to follow him.

Since that very first time he called me to come and follow, I’ve never even thought of turning. Well, maybe I thought of it, but I’d never really turn back. Especially now -- he needs us. This whole arrest business -- I never thought Judas would do this to us. And now everything seems so out of control. I’ve got to think this through.

Of course I ran away! I wasn’t deserting him. But what good would I be to him if I were arrested too? The way they took him ... their eyes ... the way they looked at him ... the one they wanted ... the one they plotted against ... the one they hated. And then they looked at us too. We were with him. That made us like him. I’ve seen it before, guilt by association. What was I supposed to do. O.K. -- so I ran. So did everyone else. They would have taken us too.

“The cock will crow three times,” he said. No! I’m in control of my life. I will not deny him. I will show him how strong I am. I will show him that I am worthy of his trust and love. I’ll show him -- I’ll show them all.

So this is where they ate. It was just like him to keep things simple. But simple was never a bad thing when it came from him. He always gave everything such richness and meaning. He gave everything such life. I wonder what he gave his friends here tonight? Surely it must have been nothing less than himself. And now they’ve taken him away. (Begins to break down) My son! They’ve taken my son!

(Regains composure) But, it will be all right. It has to be all right! He is someone special -- someone touched by God. I’ve never really been sure quite what that meant -- even with all of the amazing things that happened when he was born. But one thing I know -- one thing I’ve always known -- Jesus is someone through whom God will do great things. I refuse to believe that it can all come to an end like this.

He is so full of love. Everything he does comes out of love. And not the easy kind that gives because it gets. He gives Love that comes straight from the heart of God. I’ve seen him care for the little people in this world -- the poor and the tired and the helpless. He gave them a sense of dignity and worth -- as if he could see in them something of what God sees. He loves so much -- and this is what it has gotten him.

(She pauses to look around the room -- noticing the places where everyone sat and how empty it all feels now.) They say that when he was arrested none of his friends even tried to help. They all just ran away. Don’t they understand how much he loved them? How can they turn away from him now? How can they just leave my son in the hands of those evil men? Don’t they understand how special he is? Can they be that frightened of his love?

O God! What have I done? I’ve betrayed the trust of the one man who ever really knew me -- understood me -- loved me. I’ve handed them the hope of the world, and all they can do is hate him. But it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. This wasn’t what I had in mind at all when I went to see the council. I wasn’t even interested in their money. I only wanted what was best for him -- what was best for all of us. How could things have gone so wrong? God, where are you now, when we need you so much -- when I need you so desperately? O God, please don’t let them kill him.

But, how could I have known? He talked for so long about being the annointed one from God, the one for whom we had been waiting all these years. It was never exactly clear what that all meant, but the implications seemed pretty obvious. We have been stepped on and occupied and abused for so long, and now, finally, our salvation was at hand. But Jesus didn’t seem to understand how the world works. He was always talking about things like turning the other cheek. Why couldn’t he see that it takes power to change the world? That’s all I was trying to make him see. O God, could I have been that wrong?

I remember when Peter thought he knew better than Jesus what Jesus needed to do. Peter never was one to keep quiet about anything. Jesus informed him in no uncertain terms that he knew exactly what he was doing. We all thought Peter had overstepped his bounds, but it all seemed so natural when I fell into the very same trap. Except that instead of trying to argue with Jesus, I tried to force him into a corner where he would have to act. He would have to show them the power I knew was there. But he didn’t act -- not in the garden -- not even when they flogged him. He just let them take him, and beat him. Why didn’t he show them his power? (Slams down the bag of coins he has been toying with, then pauses, realizing what the bag contains.)

But I kept the money. O God, please tell me I didn’t really do it for the money. I had such high hopes and dreams. And now I’ve sold them out. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way! How could I have betrayed him?

Look at me. I can’t seem to stop shaking. An hour ago I couldn’t even keep my eyes open to pray with him, and now I couldn’t sleep if I had to. How could life go so wrong so fast. Earlier tonight we were all eating together right here at this table, and now they’ve arrested him -- and we all ran away. I feel like I’ve missed something -- as if it would all begin to make sense if I could just recall the missing piece.

But then, I suppose I’ve been missing something ever since I met him. He chose me to be his follower, and all I could do was feel puffed up and full of myself because he noticed me. He gave James and me our nickname, the sons of thunder, and I missed the joke. He took me with him up the mountain where we all had that amazing vision of Elijah and Moses, and we were so overwhelmed that we didn’t know what to think. Peter said something silly about building tents, but it could just as easily have been me that ended up babbling. And then he kept talking about suffering and dying, as if it were something he was sure would happen -- and I chose to ignore most of it and misunderstand the rest. I’ve been as close to him as anyone and I feel like I don’t really understand him at all. We thought we had found the Messiah, and I suppose my vision was impared by what I thought that meant.

Even tonight, at the meal, I missed something -- something important. He was trying to share -- something -- maybe it was himself he was trying to share. But we didn’t understand. We didn’t see how urgent the moment was for him. So we mostly just missed it. But he gave this meal new meaning, if only we will notice. There is something about what he said -- I can’t help thinking it will haunt me whenever I sit down to eat -- trying to grasp the gift he has given us. He picked up the bread and made a big deal about breaking it. And then he spoke about that business of it being his body, broken for us. I’m not sure everyone even heard him, and I’m very sure no one understood him. But he didn’t stop there. He picked up his cup as if he was going to make a toast, and then he said that the wine was really his blood, which he would pour out for us. None of it made any sense then. I’m not certain it makes any sense now.

O God, help me to see what I’m missing in all of this. Help me to understand.