Pomp and Circuмstance

   The parade marched down the street. The little children played with rocks and stones, and the adults watched in silence as the whole gathering passed by. The town's marching band lead the way, playing a few, favorite marching tunes, meant to encourage and drum up some patriotism in the minds and hearts of all present.

   The mayor and the sheriff followed the marching band in a slow-moving, open vehicle. They were accompanied by their wives. The town's council members followed in a single, open car. They all waved at the people who congregated on the sides of the road. The band and the cars headed for the town square, where most of the local inhabitants gathered to witness the end of an era, and the beginning of a new springtime.

   The band and the officials took their places on the makeshift stands surrounding a small, wooden platform. The band struck up an energetic tune, and the officials, their families and other interested parties sang along.

   The rest of the parade entered the square. The deputies ushered the main guest of honor to the wooden platform, to be seen by all who gathered for one more time. After a round of cheers, the mayor seized the microphone to officially begin the celebration.

   “Ladies and gentlemen,” said the Mayor, “we have gathered on this day, to mark the end of the old times of suffering and self-doubt, and we are here to usher in the new world, one of order, one of peace and tolerance, acceptance and equality for all.”

   The crowds cheered. The Mayor and officials beamed with an infectious pride.

   “This will be, thankfully, the last time we will have to gather for such a ceremony. We shall make this one a celebration to remember, one you will tell your children, and they will tell theirs. You all should be proud of what you have accomplished here. You have ended the fight against our very way of life. You have brought to its knees the terror that has haunted humanity for thousands of years, the sickness that clouded the minds of generations, and given rise to extremism this world will, thankfully, never see again.”

   The deputies brought forth the guest of honor. The guest was shackled at the wrists. A deputy removed the black hood, which revealed the guest's bruised and battered face. The crowd mocked and jeered at the guest, calling him all sorts of names.

   “Fellow citizens,” the Mayor continued, “this man represents the last, as far as we know, of his kind. Once we have eliminated him from our wonderful city, his reign of terror and hatred will end forever. Now, if you will, please call the children forward.”

   The deputies lined the dozens of children before the wooden platform. Some were still playing with the rocks and the stones, others merely pet them, as though they were pets.

   “Since this is the last time we shall hold this ceremony,” the Mayor said, “it is only fair for the children to have the first word to our guest.”

   To the children, the Mayor said, “Are you ready to make your parents, your town and your country happy?”

   “Yes.” they replied.

   “Good.” The Mayor said. “As our guest may know quite well, “Let he who is without sin, throw the first stone.”

   As the first stone flew through the air, the guest said aloud, “forgive them, they know not what they do.”

   The stone struck the guest on the left side of his face. Blood poured from the fresh wound. The crowd cheered on their children, and encouraged the rest of them to throw their rocks at the guest. The children obliged.

   The marching band played on as the rocks tore into the guest. The deputies brought to the children baskets full of new stones, so they could throw as much as they wanted. The citizens cheered as their children pummeled the guest.

   “Good children.” the Mayor applauded. “You are doing well to usher in this nєω ωσrℓ∂ σr∂єr. You have brought to humanity the long-desired end of our enemy's soldiers. You have killed for our Supreme Master the last, known priest, the servant of the enemy of mankind. Let us toast our Master and revel in his wondrous deeds.”

   The priest, with one, last ounce of strength, blessed his youthful executioners.

   “Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus, Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus.”
   With that, the priest gave up his spirit. The band struck a cheerful tune, and the congregation of the nєω ωσrℓ∂ σr∂єr sang together their hymns of praise and adulation.

   With all the commotion of the festival, no one noticed the man on the hill, who kept watch. He turned his eyes up to heaven and said, “It is consummated. The harvest is at hand. Send forth Thy reapers, prepare the fires for the cockle...”