A Christmas-Tide Monologue
The following dramatic monologue features an innkeeper at wits’ end in a Judean hill town. Because the script alternates between mutterings to himself (in italics), and his full voice addressed to family and guests, (bold-face) a microphone would be useful.
At several points guests apparently speak to the innkeeper, moments marked only by brief, silent pauses.
(muttering to himself) By the wisdom of Solomon! The lamps in this hall never stop guttering.
Hannah! Hannah! Hurry with the olive oil before these lamps go out! These cheap wicks from the market are charred and crusty. You’ll have to trim them, I see.
Brr, it’s cold. Pity the poor fools out with the herds on a night like this.
Abigail, daughter of mine. For the love of King David, will you close the kitchen door?
The draft in this hall is going to send my bones to an early grave.
And take that last sheepskin up to Eliezer ben Judah in the garret.
The guests just can’t seem to get enough bedclothes in this chill.
(Timid knock at the door.)
Now, who would that be, knocking at this devilish hour? Can’t the imbecile see the full-up sign on the gate?
Hannah, my sweet! Tend the fire here while I see who’s at the door. (pause)
(conversationally) Yes, may I help you? (pause) I’m sorry sir, but as you can plainly see we’re at the limit. Have been for three nights. The town’s choked with travelers. Aren’t you a trifle late wandering in at this hour? (pause) How’s that? From Nazareth, you say? Your wife is expecting? I’m sorry, but that doesn’t make my lodge any less full, you understand. (pause). Oh, no! I’m afraid there’s an ordinance against such practices. I run a reputable establishment. Being from the Galilee doesn’t come with any privileges here. It just wouldn’t do to have people sleeping hither and yon, now, would it? Sorry – it’s first come, first served in this business. You’ll have to find lodging elsewhere, I’m afraid. You might try Joshua ben Levi in the wine-seller’s street. They take in house guests, sometimes. Mazel tov! Good night.
(derisively at first) Can you imagine! ‘Could we sleep in the hall?’ But then, he was probably desperate given the condition of his wife.
(then, calling out into the street). Say, young man! Failing all else, you could bed down in the shed outback. It’s not very warm, but you’ll find some dry straw.
Yes, yes! Your supper’s on the way!
The rabble from Jericho is impossible to please. First the fire, then the lumpy beds and blankets. Now the food. When will the Lord, bless his name, send us a pleasant, contented guest? What family in their right minds would ever choose to keep an inn?
Yes, it’s on the way! (Aside, hissing) Hurry Hannah!
Bah! What do entitled idiots from the valley know of patience.
Abigail, my sweet! Fetch a basin of water to the old widower before you snuff out the lamps. And not a drop of it on the new carpet, I say! You know how those colors run! And be sure to throw the bolt on the back door!
This town is a plum for the picking. Full of clueless visitors. It’ll be a surprise if the hooligans from the hills fail to put in an appearance.
(Long pause). Ahhhh! Finally, a moment of shalom! But then, what ‘shalom’ is that? A shred of silence wrapped in the cold and darkness. A stifled yawn between dreams. It’s a mockery of everything holy. How was it the Rabbi said it last Sabbath, “It’s a wisp of what is to come.” But who can believe it? And, who can afford not to? Is anything left out there in the darkness? A faint hope for the Coming One? I could hardly keep from choking at the reading from the Torah last week. How did it go ….?
I will sing … I will sing unto the Lord,
For He has triumphed gloriously;
The horse and rider has He
Thrown into the sea.
(longish pause as the innkeeper retires)
(intimately) Ahh, Hannah, my Consolation. This madness will carry us both off one of these days. But maybe we can afford a new cloak for you this winter. At least you’ll not go naked to the grave. Rest now, wife of mine! … Hannah, my Lovely, rest well. … Only, let our dreams be rich in happiness. (lights dim)
(long pause, then in a hoarse whisper).
Hannah! Hannah! Hush! (cups his ear) Did you hear that? An infant. A baby crying in the night. Outback. Yes, I’m sure of it! Ah, yes. Must be those shabby village folk from Nazareth. What misfortune! To bear a child on a night like this. Heaven help us! Heaven help us all!