Possible name:
The Promised One

Opening hymn

Offertory 

1. Hosanna, Blessed is He - children sing with the adults, come in waving palm branches

Simeon monologue
I have waited my whole life.
Not for riches… not for comfort… not even for peace in troubled times.
I have waited for a promise.
The Spirit whispered it to my heart years ago:
“You will not see death before you have seen the Lord’s Messiah.”
Since then, every sunrise has felt heavy with hope.
Every child carried through these temple courts has made my heart wonder…
Could it be today?
Rome rules us. Our people groan.
We speak of deliverance, of the throne of David restored.
We tell the stories. We cling to the prophets.
But years pass… and still we wait.
And yet… the promise remains.
Not because I am worthy.
Not because I am strong.
But because God is faithful.
What will He look like, this Anointed One?
Will He come in power? In splendor? In thunder?
Or… will He come quietly… unnoticed… wrapped in ordinary flesh?
Today feels different.
The Spirit is stirring again.
A young couple is coming through the gates.
They carry nothing remarkable—just two small birds for sacrifice…
And a child.
But my heart… my heart is trembling.
After all these years…
After all this waiting…
Could He be the Messiah?

2. Could He Be the Messiah 

Peter monologue

It wasn’t a sermon.
It wasn’t a miracle.
It wasn’t even the day I stepped out of that boat.
It was a Name.
I was just Simon. A fisherman. Loud. Impulsive.
The kind of man who speaks first and thinks later.
And then He looked at me — really looked at me --
and said, “You are Simon… but you will be called Peter.”
A rock.
A rock? Me?
I’ve failed Him.
I told Him I would die for Him — and hours later I denied I even knew Him.
Three times.
I heard the rooster crow… and I broke.
But that Name…
That Name did not let me go.
Jesus.
The Name that called me from my nets.
The Name that calmed the sea with a whisper.
The Name that forgave me on a shoreline with breakfast and grace.
The Name that conquered death itself.
I have seen storms bow to it.
I have seen demons flee from it.
I have seen my own shame crumble beneath it.
You ask me who He is?
I don’t just know about Him.
I know His Name.

3. I Know a Name 

Peter monologue - setting up communion

I remember the table.
We had gathered like we always did for Passover.
Bread. Wine. The story of deliverance.
We thought we understood it.
We didn’t.
He took the bread in His hands — the same hands that had lifted me when I sank in the water…
The same hands that had healed the sick…
And He broke it.
“This is My body.”
We must have looked at one another, confused.
His body? Broken?
Then He took the cup.
“This is My blood… poured out.”
Blood? For us?
I said I would die for Him that night.
I meant it.
But before morning came, I swore I didn’t even know His name.
And yet… He still gave the bread.
He still passed the cup.
Knowing full well I would fail Him.
That’s what I didn’t understand then.
This table is not for the strong.
It’s not for the worthy.
It’s not for the ones who got it all right.
It’s for those who need mercy.
I once thought I would prove my love to Him.
Instead, He proved His love for me.
When you take the bread… remember His body, broken for you.
When you take the cup… remember His blood, poured out for you.
I denied Him.
But He never denied me.
(Pause. Softly.)
Take… and remember.

 4. Clean 

Mary Magdalene monologue 

They know my name.
Not because I was important.
Not because I was righteous.
But because I was broken.
Seven demons once tormented me.
Seven.
I lived in darkness so thick I thought it would swallow me forever.
And then… He came.
He didn’t turn away.
He didn’t condemn me.
He spoke — and every chain inside me shattered.
That’s what I’m known for.
The woman He delivered.
The woman who followed Him everywhere after that.
The woman who would kneel at His feet when others stood at a distance.
Now it is Passover week.
Jerusalem is roaring with praise.
“Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!”
They wave palm branches and shout for a king.
But I know Him differently.
I have seen the way He touches lepers.
The way He lifts children.
The way He looks at sinners like me — not with disgust, but with mercy.
And this week… something is changing.
He walks with a steady resolve.
He speaks of suffering.
Of being lifted up.
Of giving His life.
The disciples argue about greatness.
The crowds dream of a throne.
But I see the Lamb.
The One who freed me did not use power to crush His enemies.
He used love to free His captives.
If He chooses the cross instead of a crown…
If He gives His body instead of taking a kingdom…
If He pours out His life for the very people who will shout against Him…
Then He is more than Messiah.
He is worthy.
Worthy of the praise in the streets.
Worthy of the perfume poured at His feet.
Worthy of every breath in this city.
He set me free.
And whatever this week holds…
Whatever sorrow may come…
He is worthy… of it all.

5.  Worthy of It All

Monologue from perspective of Roman Centurion

I have overseen many executions.
Rebels. Thieves. Murderers.
Men who cursed Rome with their final breath.
Men who begged.
Men who fought.
Death does not move me.
It is my duty.
This morning, they brought me another prisoner.
A Jew.
Beaten nearly beyond recognition.
Crown of thorns pressed into His skull — their idea of a joke.
They called Him “King.”
I have seen kings.
This was no king.
He carried His own cross until His strength failed.
He did not curse.
He did not threaten.
He did not plead.
When we nailed Him to the wood…
He did not scream accusations.
He prayed.
“Father, forgive them.”
Forgive them?
I have heard men curse their mothers with their dying breath.
This Man forgave His executioners.
The sky grew dark at noon.
The earth trembled beneath my feet.
The crowds mocked Him — “Save Yourself!”
But He stayed.
No one takes a Roman cross willingly.
No one stays unless they must.
And then He cried out… and breathed His last.
In that moment, I knew.
This was no rebel.
This was no ordinary man.
I have served Rome all my life.
I have sworn allegiance to Caesar.
But standing at the foot of that cross…
Watching the blood run down rough timber…
I felt something I have never felt before.
Not fear of Rome.
Not fear of rebellion.
Awe.
Surely… this was the Son of God.
Not a defeated king.
A Lamb.
Given.
Behold… the Lamb.

6.  Behold the Lamb
Have Jesus in the baptistry beginning at measure 50
Maybe have Him surrounded by angels.  Cloud background.   
Or, fill the baptistry with fog and use a fan to blow it out when the doors open.  

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