This began with an exchange known as the QUEM QUAERITIS, which is latin for "whom do you seek?" or in a slightly more casual translation:

Hey, who you Christian ladies looking for over in that sepulcher? Where does the quem quaeritis come from? And why does it get going at all?

Unclear.

It seems to be a mash-up of sections from the gospel of Luke and then a couple of apocryphal Gospels. The gospel of Peter and the gospel of Mary.

It appears in the Regularis Concordia, a sort of rule book for benedictine monasteries compiled by Ethel Wald, bishop of Winchester and around 970 CE.

We can guess that it was adopted to heighten excitement and suspense at a key moment of the Easter service.

Just before the discovery of the resurrection.

In the Quim Crisis, the three Mary's speak to some angels.

These are the Virgin Mary, the Magdalene Mary and Mary the Sister of Lazarus, the Mary that every forgets about.

The parts were probably first undertaken by two sections of a choir using antiphonal singing.

And then later by individual monks or clerics.

It goes like so:

Marys: Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified, o heavenly ones.

Angels: He is not here; he is risen; just as he predicted; go, announce that he is risen from the sepulcher.

And that gripping dialogue is what probably restores theater to the west.

Here's an episode describing a typical staging in the thought-bubble.

While the third lesson is being read aloud, four of the brothers who should dress themselves.

One of them wearing an robe should come in as though intent on other business and go stealthily to the place of the sepulchre.

Then while the third response is being sung, the three remaining brothers—all of them wearing copes and carrying a thurible with incense in their hands—should walk slowly and haltingly, making their way to the place of the sepulchre as if they are seeking something.

For these things are done in imitation of the angel seated on the tomb. And of the women coming with perfumes to anoint the body of Jesus.

When therefore the one sitting there, sees the three drawing near. He should begin to sing sweetly in a moderate voice:

Whom do you seek?

The three should answer together in one voice: Jesus of Nazareth.

He to them. He is not here. He has risen as he predicted. Go tell the news that he has risen from the dead.

And then, having said these things, he should stand up and raise the veil, showing them the empty place where the cross had been laid.

Where there should be nothing but the linen bands in which the cross had been wrapped.

Seeing this, they should put down the thurible which they have carried into the sepulchre and taking up the linen cloths.

They should hold them out toward the assembled clergy, as though showing them that the lord has risen and is now no longer wrapped in them.

And they should sing this antiphon: The lord has risen from the tomb.

Thanks thought-bubble.

So there you have it—the first liturgical drama.

So called because it emerges out of the Christian liturgy or service.

And now, maybe you're thinking: wow, that is just~super exciting~definitely much preferable to naval battles and nude mimes.

So hang on a second. This exchange may not sound thrilling now. But then it was.

Before this, you just have a priest reciting passages from the bible.

But this moment where, other members of the clergy step out and answer: this is a really big deal.

Remember the origins of ancient greek theatre when Thespis got the bright idea to step out from the dithyrambic chorus and actually imitate some of the action instead of just singing about it.

Well, this is like that, even down to the religious context.

So really it's not so different from the Dionysus celebrations, though this is a comparison that most church fathers of the middle ages would not have appreciated.

I'm a wager there wasn't much that they would appreciate to be quite h though.

What's most important about the QUEM QUAERITIS is that even if it sounds heck and dull, it really catches on.

Parishioners enjoyed a break from the usual church service. And the trend spread both throughout the liturgical year and throughout Europe.

At first these brief dramas were always in Latin and always in prose.

But later were written in vernacular language and sometimes in verse.

Gradually different areas of the church were used. And the clerics made increasing use of costumes and props.

But in the 12th and 13th centuries, the liturgical drama had moved away from the life of Jesus.

And was being used to tell favorite old testament stories and recount the lives of saints often with troubling streaks of anti-Semitism though.

As we'll see in a few episodes, in due time at these small liturgical dramas flower into much longer, larger, spectacles increasingly staged, get this, outside the church.

It has been a whirlwind day here at Crash Course.

In the first centuries of the Roman Empire, Romans hate Christians and Christians hate theater.

Probably because Roman theater hated Rome and Christians.

Then the Roman empire endorses Christianity.

But Christians still hate theater. Because it's not Christian.

Then barbarian horns overrun the western part of the empire and destroy theater.

But latish in the medieval period theater reappears in pretty much the last place you would expect to find it—the Latin Mass.

But it's not gonna stay there. Oh no no.

Next episode we explore an alternate hypothesis for the reappearance of drama. This time through the work of one Terrance loving nun.

Until next time, curtain.