Disciples, an excerpt

by András Visky• translated by David Robert Evans

Commissioned a few years ago by a State theater in Hungary to write a play about Easter, András Visky decided to write a play about the disciples in the period between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. The Messiah has gone, they don’t know where, and they are very scared and confused. They are waiting for something or someone. They have some memories of things Jesus said and did, but these memories seem meaningless now. They have to begin again:
Bartholomew [who is mute and uses sign language] takes out the Scriptures.

EVERYONE:

(shocked; cacophony of noise as they interrupt one another) This is completely ridiculous. He’s the one who’s going to read aloud the Scriptures! (brief laughs, chuckles)

PHILIP:

(to Bartholomew’s defence, matter-of-factly) Forgive me, sorry — I remember quite clearly now. He was the first to be healed by the master.

THADDEUS:

(with a frown) The first. It’s an interesting account of events, at any rate.

Philip’s homily about Bartholomew’s miraculous recovery

PHILIP:
We were in Gadara — that’s where we first met him. At that time there were only seven of us around the Master, maybe even fewer. Bartholomew stepped up to the Master and said:

BARTHOLOMEW:
Master, I am afflicted by a terrible disease, it runs in the family, but it is in me that it has become complete.

PHILIP:
“What’s wrong with you?” the Master asked.

BARTHOLOMEW:
The words, Master.

PHILIP:
…he replied, with a strained expression.

BARTHOLOMEW:
They are breaking out of me unstoppably, word after word, sentence after sentence, explanation after explanation, and everything becomes like a dust storm in the desert that nothing can withstand.

PHILIP:
“What shall I do with you?” the Master asked.

BARTHOLOMEW:
Make me mute.

PHILIP:
…the afflicted asked.

BARTHOLOMEW:
May I be silent as a fish.

PHILIP:
“…you are the teacher of Gadara, a hermeneut famous in distant lands, yours is the best school in the region, students flock to you, even the sons of neighbouring peoples come to you, and you ask me to make you mute?” the Master asked, surprised.

BARTHOLOMEW:
Give me your help. And give them the gift of silence. They don’t know what they want, that is why they come to me. They hunger for words: many, many words. And words flow out of me at their beck and call, unremittingly. They give more credence to my explanations than I deserve.

PHILIP:
So said Bartholomew. “And your words, what will happen to your words?” the Master again asked, once Bartholomew had finally stopped speaking.

BARTHOLOMEW:
Turn them into a rain of benediction in the desert.

PHILIP:
“Then be mute,” said the Master, smiling. “Be mute as a fish.” Soon after, a storm came up, dark clouds gathered above the city, and it began to rain. Bartholomew beamed, and we haven’t heard him speak a single word ever since.

Silence, then music starts to play.

ALPHAEUS:

And they came at us as one — that’s where we had got to.

SIMON:

Heaven knows.

JOHN:

No. We haven’t got that far yet.

ANDREW:

Let’s get out the Scriptures.

PETER:

Someone take out the Scriptures.

PHILIP:

(encouragingly) Go on, do it.

Bartholomew prepares to read out loud. He tries to find a spot where everyone can see him. Finally, he stands next to the window. He reads out loud. John stands next to him to translate.

BARTHOLOMEW:

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”

JOHN:

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.

PETER:

Do not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.

JAMES:

We haven’t got that far yet…!

MATTHEW:

Where are we then, smart guy, where are we?

JOHN:

Here: In the beginning God created…

SIMON:

(indignantly) Who?

JOHN:

God.

MATTHEW:

Dead.

ALPHAEUS:

He took the words out of my mouth. Both of them: God, dead.

JOHN:

That’s what you think. Here he is, in black and white.

PETER:

More like white and black.

ANDREW:

That just depends on your point of view.