Summary: An imaginative reconstruction of the dialogue between the repentant and unrepentant thieves, to be spoken by two preachers. Focuses on the old dilemma, whether God hears prayer.

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Unrepentant Thief (U): "Should the wise answer with windy

knowledge, and fill themselves with the east wind? Should

they argue in unprofitable talk, or in words with which they

can do no good? ... What do you know that we do not know?

What do you understand that is not clear to us?”

Repentant Thief (R): I am afraid. I am in torment. My soul

has never known such anguish. I am to die. To die! And

never again to see the light of day or to know the smiles of

those I love. Why? Why did I live that now I must die?

U: Quiet! Stop it! I don’t need this. If it is death, so be it.

Let it come. It will come soon enough anyway. Just shut up!

R: Oh, God. My God. How far are you from helping me!

How far I have been from you! If only I could change things

now. But I can’t. I can’t. Life. It’s over. It’s over. Dear

God, can You help me?

U: “Oh God, my God, dear God”. Fat lot of good that will do

you. I don’t need to hear that stuff. Heard that from my

father, but he died carrying stones to build a Roman fortress.

Heard it from my mother too, but she died raped by one of

Herod’s soldiers. “Dear God” nothing! Prayer does nothing

more than bounce off the clouds. Nobody out there cares.

R: I don’t know. I don’t know. I thought He didn’t see, but

now .. it feels as though He is watching. He’s been

watching, all along. I’ve seen the glare of His gaze. But I

don’t know how to deal with Him. I’ve been pushing Him

away. I don’t know. I don’t know.

U: Forget it. In a moment they are going to hang us up on

one of those crosses, and then you’ll get a chance to find

out. Then you’ll know. You’ll know that the sky is as empty

as my purse was after the publicans drained it for Caesar.

You’ll know that all the things we’ve been promised are as

hollow as dead trees. You’ll know before long all right.

R: But this one – over there – this one. Can he help us?

Can he do something? There is something about him –

something different. They say he works wonders. I don’t

know – but maybe, maybe he can help.

U: Him? Him? With his cheap robe and his matted hair?

Are you serious? Look at him. Just look. He’s worse off

than we are. He could barely make it up here to the brow of

the hill. The African over there had to help him. He knows

nothing, he can do nothing, not for himself, not for us, not for


R: I don’t know. They say he made the sick well and brought

the dead to life. There was a man named Lazarus, I think.

Why, I heard ...

U: You heard, you heard. You’re right, you don’t know.

What do you know? I’ll tell you what I know. I know that sick

people get well if they are lucky and if they are rich. And I

know that dead people stay dead. And that’s the end of that.

I know that much. Learn it, you. Learn it now.

R: There should be more. There needs to be more. If God

is God and God is good, there must be more. I’m not ready.

I can’t. I can’t.

U: This is it. Here and now. This is it. Nails and rope, cross

and pain. This is all there is going to be. For me, for you,

and for him too. Look at him. Poor wretch. He won’t last

long out here. Doesn’t even speak up for himself. Hasn’t

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