But the survivors and their families are devastated by the public display of a hated symbol, however transformed into one newly beloved of their Christian neighbors. Reluctantly, because they believe very deeply in free expression, the Jewish congregation organizes demonstrations, newspaper ads and letter-writing campaigns. Those efforts prove fruitless against the arguments of the church'es pro-expression leadership, and time only exacerbates the growing anger. As tempers rise, prominent members of the Episcopal church who work for Jewish- owned businesses in town are threatened with firing if the mural is not removed. A young and attractive Jewish lawyer gains financial backing to oppose the town's popular Epsicopal mayor.
Tensions rise extremely high, and sothe press takes an active interest.
The networks report on it, and newspapers write editorials. In an act of what he calls Christian comparison for the peace and safety of all the people of the town, the minister of the Episcopal church decides the mural will be removed. Police bust heads and break up the riot with difficulty. The town's name is disgraced. In our fictional Monroe metaphor, there was a fundamental misapprehension of the sensitivities of ordinary people on the part of the artist and the church, and it produced violence in a peaceful place.