BENEDICTUS (aloud) Why me, dear Jesus? Why me? Why have you chosen to afflict me with my present thoughts? I begged you, please, bless me with the stigmata. Pierce my hands, my feet, my side, as yours were pierced, and I shall gladly suffer them, as you did. (looks at hands) But no stigmata comes. Only questions new to me and, God forgive me, the last thing I expected ever to wage war within me – doubts. I am assailed by doubts. Why at my age, after a lifetime of devotion to you, why, dear Jesus?

(He lowers his head and begins to pray silently, as the lights fade. Lights come up slowly. He is asleep. Tosses restlessly. A light seems to suffuse the room; in it appears a man who looks like Jesus. Benedictus awakes and looks. Surprised, he sits up)

BENEDICTUS Jesus, is that you?

JESUS I