Try a Christmas monologue this year

By Tony W. Cartledge

BR Editor

In search of a different idea for a Christmas sermon or Christmas Eve service? Dramatic monologues can help the congregation view the season from a different perspective.

Monologues work best when memorized and presented by someone dressed in period costume, but one can also effectively employ them by simply asking the congregation to use their imaginations as they hear the story told. The monologue below imagines what the first Christmas experience might have been like for Joseph. A monologue from the perspective of a shepherd and other Christmas resources can be found at www.biblicalrecorder.org.

Joseph's soliloquy

Matthew 1:18-25

You know me. I'm the guy leading the donkey on your Christmas cards.

I'm the tall kid in your children's Christmas pageants - the one who stands there in his father's bathrobe and doesn't have any lines.

I am the Christmas man who is often seen but seldom heard.

My background

I am Joseph -

Joseph, son of Jacob, son of Matthan, son of Eleazar, son of Eliud, son of Achim, son of Zadok - oh, you don't need to know the rest. Suffice it to say that I can trace my family back through many kings of Israel, even to David, even back to Abraham. Do you like my pedigree? As distinguished as it may sound, you will note that I am descended of sinful patriarchs, sinful kings and sinful nobodies! And I am a sinful man. That is the way of life.

I am a sinful man, and a common man - I am poor, but honest. I work with an ax and a hammer, a saw and a drawshave. I know the difference between cedar and eucalyptus and fir, and I know which wood is good for what use. I live with sawdust in my hair and sweat on my face, but that is the way of life for me.

I have also been a confused man, and sometimes an angry man. Perhaps you already know why: the Lord Almighty Himself took my simple life and made it complicated. The Lord God invaded my privacy, interrupted my plans, and interfered with my marriage. I suppose that is the way of life, too.

My wife

And it all started because I fell in love - and I am still in love, with Mary. Mary, daughter of Heli, son of Matthat, son of . . . oh, never mind.

Mary, wife of Joseph. That is what matters now.

I guess it was her eyes that first took me in. How could it be anything else? In my world, the way women dress, their eyes are about all you can see. But her eyes were not like other eyes I had seen. Her eyes could dance. Her eyes were deep. Her eyes were dark passageways leading to a mystery that I had to explore.

Mary was young, as all Jewish brides in my world are young. But she liked me well enough, and her father was willing, and I could afford the dowry, and so we were betrothed. Becoming engaged in my world is like an endurance test before marriage. Betrothal is so official and legal that a divorce is required to break it - and it can go on for a year before the wedding, before the marriage can be consummated. You get all of a husband's responsibilities and none of the benefits. It is good preparation for marriage. Sometimes, that is the way of life.

So we were betrothed, and I swore to keep myself pure and faithful as her husband-to-be. It was not an easy time because I am not always a patient man, but at last the days grew short and our wedding day approached. There are three crooked cartwheels and a ruined yoke in my workshop that can tell you how distracted I was as the time for our marriage drew near.

My quandary

And there is also a broken ax handle that can tell you how I felt when Mary came to me one day and said: "Joseph, I must tell you something." I smiled, because I always smile when Mary comes near.

"Tell me, my darling. Tell me what has brought you here. Tell me why your eyes are not dancing today. Tell me what is on your heart."

"Joseph," she said, and she almost choked with some emotion that was hidden from me, "Joseph, I am going to have a child!"

"I know that, my love! Surely you will have a child. We will have many children!"

"No, Joseph. No. You don't understand. I am going to have a child. I am ... I am ... I am pregnant, Joseph. I am with child now." And then she flinched, as if she expected me to swing at her, but I could not lift a hand. I could not raise my arm. I could barely stand. I could hardly speak.

"Mary, what are you saying? Mary, how can this be? Mary, how could this happen? Mary, how could you do this to me?"

Suddenly all the sawdust on the floor found its way into my stomach, and a hammer pounded inside my head as an awl twisted into my heart.

Mary was still talking, of course, trying to explain, but it was a long time before I could hear what she was saying. I kept listening for the other man's name, but she kept talking about God.

Yes, she was pregnant, but no, she had not been unfaithful. How could that be?

Yes, she was still a virgin, and no, it was not impossible, because the signs were there. She knew she was pregnant. And God was the father. God was the father.

Let me ask you something. Would you believe a story like that? Would that story bring comfort to your heart? Would that answer your questions?

The story she told was strange from beginning to end. An angel of the Lord came and spoke to her. The Holy Spirit of God overshadowed her. A child was conceived within her. A holy child. A male child. A child who would become the Messiah of God, sent to redeem His people.

Of course. Such an obvious explanation! And my sawhorses can pull a plow! I am a simple man, but I am not simple minded. How could she expect me to believe a story like that? And what did she expect me to do?

I know what I intended to do. I intended to get a quiet divorce and take her to another town where she could have the baby in peace. I didn't know how Mary could do this to me, but I did not wish to bring shame upon her by making the matter public.

When Mary left, her eyes were swimming and the front of her robe was spattered with tears. I could see the disappointment in her eyes when she knew that I doubted her. I could see the hurt in her eyes when she thought I would divorce her. I could see the fear in her eyes when she thought I would take her away and leave her.

There were tears on my tunic, too. But what else could she expect me to do? Believe that she was pregnant by the Spirit of God?

"Go home, Mary. Go home and let me think about this. Yes, I still love you, I think. I need to think. This is not the way life is supposed to be. I will talk to you again tomorrow. Goodbye now, Mary. Let me think."

Let me think. I had to think thoughts that no one has thought of before. If Mary was lying with this amazing story, then I was just one more jilted fiancˇe. But if she was telling the truth - if she was telling the truth - then the fate of the Lord's Messiah lay in my hands. The burden of responsibility was on my shoulders. Would I give Him a name and a family and a home, or would I leave Him quietly in another town?

My dream

These were not thoughts I ever intended to think, but I thought them throughout the day and into the night, until they finally chased me into a stuporous state that I suppose was sleep. I expected bad dreams, I guess. But the dream I had was beyond bad - or good. It was beyond anything I can put a name on, because it came from beyond the world of my experience.

An angel of the Lord came to me.

"How did I know it was an angel?" you ask. If one ever comes to you, you will know. An angel came to me, and called my name. "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid! Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife; for that which is conceived in her is indeed of the Holy Spirit. And she will bear a son - and you shall call His name 'Salvation!' - 'Jesus' - for He shall save His people from their sins."

And then he was gone. No time for questions. No time for explanations. No time for Joseph. Just a simple message from God that Mary's tall tale was truth. I did not understand. I did not ask for this, but I chose to obey, because that is what my faith told me to do - and my heart. We are called to trust and obey, even when we do not understand. That is the way life is.

So I took Mary as my wife, and I lived with her but apart from her for all those many months until the baby was born one night while we were in Bethlehem for a Roman census. That is the night you remember - the night I led the donkey into town - the night I could not find poor Mary a decent room - the night I stood quietly by while the Son of God was born to my wife.

My Christmas

For you, that is the story of Christmas. Shepherds kneeling. Angels singing. Joseph standing silently in the corner while radiant light beams from the manger scene. For me, Christmas is far more than that first night in Bethlehem, but still, I will never forget that corner. I would not have been anywhere else.

There was light born in Bethlehem's stable that night. Light that stole my heart, and quickened my soul. Neither Mary nor I understood the kind of Messiah Jesus was born to be, and we struggled throughout our lives to come to terms with what it meant to be the parents of God's child, guardians of the light of the world.

I did not live to see what happened to Jesus. Mary did, but many times she must have wished it had been otherwise. This is the truth and the judgment, that light has come into the world, and men have loved darkness rather than light. Yet the light of God's Son overcame the darkness and blazed a bright path into the future.

Even now, He calls you to follow. Even now, He calls you to come stand in the corner with me, to behold the light of truth, to take hold of the light of life, and to hold forth the light of God's salvation to all who will believe.