No signs of trouble here

The people all look so normal.

Kids are laughing as they flirt and wander home from school. They stop at the corner store and get a snack, joking and boasting as kids do. David lingers a little to walk with Rachel. He's clearly hoping for more.

The Schmlzers are dropping off a casserole at the neighbor's, helping out while Amos is laid up. Old Joe offers to fix the Meyers' fence. Eunice and Eva are over cleaning things up getting ready for the weekly services.

You ride through town. Everything looks just right, as it should. Tidy, even clean. Well manicured, the people and the houses. Nothing menacing or scruffy. On this lovely spring day people are out sprucing up their yards and weeding their gardens.

You go to the market, mill around, everyone is polite. Nothing seems amiss. Even the fruits are perfectly ripe and the vegetables firm and crispy. The meat is fresh and the butcher, Ruben, has a big smile and an extra bone for your dog. The day is feeling mighty good.

Traffic moves right along. Nobody gets cut off, nobody flips the finger. No one is being too noisy. The sun is out, the sky is clear. The wind is a pleasant breeze, no more, no less. Idyllic, really.

No one acts rude or impatient, life moves along smoothly. Men go to work. Women share their news. The children are in school or out kicking a ball down the street.

To drive through, to be part of it, you think, no signs of trouble here. All is well.

But the day goes on. Stories circulate. Not many, certainly not most, but a small crowd gathers. They're easily stirred up. At least today they are. And before you know it, a larger mob is shouting, "Give us Barrabas."


But looking at it all, before, you would never have guessed. No sign of trouble here.

And so it goes.


"And the crowd cried, 'Crucify him!'"