Although the ritual was not often performed,
the villagers still remembered to use stones.
A pile of stones the boys had made earlier was ready by the edge of the cliff,
just outside the city; there were stones on the ground as well. Dvir, one of the witnesses, selected a stone
so large he had to pick it up with both hands and turned to Oren. “Come on,” he said. “Hurry up.”
Oren had small stones in both hands, and he
said, gasping for breath, “I can’t run at all.
You’ll have to go ahead and I’ll catch up with you.”
The children had stones already, and someone
gave little David a few pebbles.
Earlier in the day, the villagers had seen
Stephen’s face. He looked as if he were
an angel. But in their rage, they could
no longer see him clearly. The villagers
dragged Stephen out of the city, pressing in on him, edging him backward toward
the cliff. A stone hit him on the side
of the head. With all his strength, Oren
pushed Stephen, who fell over the cliff.
Dvir threw the large stone. Old
Omri was saying, “Come on, come on, everyone.”
A young man named Saul was in the front of the crowd of villagers, with
their tunics piled beside him.
“Lord Jesus,” Stephen prayed, “Do not hold
this sin against them.” He cried out in
a loud voice, and then they were upon him.[i]
