Who In the World Does Paul Think He Is?
A Monodrama
Paul’s epistle to the Philippians.
CAST: Syntyche, a Philippian woman, indignant at being mentioned in Paul’s letter (Phil. 4:2).
COSTUME: She’s a “church lady.” Since the text of this piece has a lot of anachronisms, keep the clothes modern, conservative, classic. Dress (hem just below the knee), hat, gloves, purse, heels, jacket.
SETTING: Syntyche’s living room. A chair and small table canted just left of centre.
PROPS: The essential props are a purse, scroll of Philippians, and a pair of scissors. (I know. The play is anachronistic. It doesn’t have to be a scroll. It just tickles my fancy to have her dig a scroll out of a fashionable purse.)
Who in the world does Paul think he is? Traipsing around the Mediterranean—breezing in, breezing out— here, there, and everywhere. So he spent some time here. Even got a church going—with my help, I might add. But then he skips town, moves on to the next place, and sends out letters, like he’s still in charge.
Those letters! The way people go on about them, you’d think they were holy writ, scripture, or something. He writes a letter to a group of people somewhere, and they, oh so carefully copy it—several times—and send the copies to all the other outposts where Paul did his thing. You know the drill: “If you want to be blessed, make ten copies of this letter and send them to ten different churches.” Well, today’s letter was different. (Pulls scroll out of purse.) Paul wrote this one to us. (Reads) “To all the saints in Christ Jesus who are in Philippi (Phil 1:1).” That’s us. (Points) Right there at the top. (Pause) Oh. (Another pause) My husband gave this to me. “Here, put it in your purse, dear.” My husband! The man who vowed to cherish, support, and protect me? He wants me to copy it! And send it somewhere. Rome, probably. Or that cesspool, Corinth.
Epaphroditus read it out loud to us at church this morning, and it started off so nicely. Real appreciative. (Reading it) “I give thanks to my God for every remembrance of you (1:3).” Isn’t that sweet? He says he loves us, misses us, prays for us. He even calls us his partners in the work—and well he should. I’ll bet I wasn’t the only person in the room with tears in my eyes. I admit, this letter is quite the change from some of the more scolding ones forwarded from other churches—like Corinth. It’s so full of hope and optimism. And to think he wrote it in prison! Prison! I felt the joy in it, I truly did. He gives us good advice, too, like “live in a manner worthy of the gospel”, “stand firm in the faith”, “work side by side” and “watch out for evil-doers.” Hey, I’ve said all those things myself—except I didn’t call the evil-doers “dogs”. And then, when he talked about Jesus humbling himself even to death on the cross, I tingled! No kidding. I tingled.
It was good. It was so good, and I was feeling it. (Beat. Tightly) And then it happened. I heard my name. Syntyche. My name! (Reading it) “I urge Euodia and Syntyche to agree in the Lord (4:2).” I couldn’t believe it! I was so mortified. How could Paul do this to me? In a public letter! “I urge Euodia and Syntyche to agree”? I don’t disagree! It’s Euodia! She’s the one who is constantly disagreeing with me. I say “up”, she says “down”. I say “light”, she says “dark”. I say “yes”, she says…(nods)…uh huh. Why, only last week she disagreed with me before I’d even said anything!
(Stares at the offending words) Who does Paul think he is? A disciple? Hmph! One of the guys that followed after Jesus? Peter, James and John? So now it’s to be John and Paul. (Beat) John and Paul. Hmmph. Soon everyone will be calling themselves “disciples”. John and Paul. (Beat) George and Ringo. (Pause) Who does Paul think—? (Waves scroll) An apostle. He always calls himself—(Looks for it in letter) Yeah, here it is. (Reading) “Paul and Timothy, a…” (a long pause) “slaves of Jesus Christ.” (Petulant) So. All right. (Throws scroll down on table) He didn’t—
Still. Such a shame. It could’ve been such a good letter. Well, I don’t want to miss my blessing, so I’ll make my ten copies and send them out. (Picks up scissors) I’ll just cut out the bits that don’t fit—like my name (cutting) and just one or two… (Looks up) How about that? I’m feeling more blessed already! (Back to snipping.)
Curtain
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Leaping Off the Page: Any Time of the Year Edition Page 19
