A shadow of disbelief hung like a shroud of over the congregation.

Fear paced back and forth along the far wall of the building as contentment lay sleeping upon an old torn blanket in the corner, its tail casually swatting at flies.

Memory served the coffee and tea while guilt got the pastries out the box. On certain Saturdays there was very little to say, even the Cantor could sometimes take a nap during the sermon.

The congregation would wait quietly for the continuation, as they had been instructed to do so for  many years already.

City to city, the Messiah just kept letting the crowds down.