At the center of the town there was a market square, already crowded. Suppressing a shudder, David forced himself to push through the people.posted by Rhaomi at 5:27 PM on May 14, 2011 [2 favorites]
At the center of the crowd a soldier, crudely uniformed, was holding a woman by one arm. She looked wretched, her robe torn, her hair matted and filthy, her plump, once-pretty face streaked by crying. Beside her were two men in fine, clean religious garb. Perhaps they were priests, or Pharisees. They were pointing to the woman, gesticulating angrily, and arguing with a figure before them, who -- hidden by the crowd -- was squatting in the dust.
David wondered if this incident had left any trace in the Gospels. Perhaps this was the woman who had been condemned for adultery, and the Pharisees were confronting Jesus with another of their trick questions, trying to expose His blasphemy.
The man in the dust had a phalanx of friends. They were sturdy-looking men, perhaps fishermen; gently but firmly they were keeping the crushing crowds away. But still some of the people were coming near, reaching out a tentative hand to touch a robe, even stroke a lock of hair.
The man in the dust was thin, His hair severely pulled back, prematurely greying at the temples. His robe was stained with dust and trailed in the dirt. His nose was prominent, proud and Roman, His eyes black, fierce, intelligent. He seemed angry, and was drawing in the dust with one finger.
This silent, brooding man had the measure of the Pharisees, without even the need to speak.
When he goes to beat up the money changers in the temple
Walking on water
Water into wine
Resurrecting that one dead guy
posted by the young rope-rider at 4:59 PM on May 14, 2011 [3 favorites]