Why was only the woman caught in adultery accused?
|It happened so fast I had no idea what was going on at first. One minute we lay in her bed, and the next a half dozen men stormed her room and grabbed us. But they weren’t interested in me. They thrust me into a corner, and barely giving the woman enough time to dress they dragged her out into the street. She kept screaming and begging for mercy, knowing as well as I did the penalty for adultery.
But whatever her reasons I couldn’t help myself. Even becoming a Pharisee didn’t rid me of my - my lusts. The consequences didn’t matter when they overtook me. Besides I didn’t do anything many others haven’t also done.
I dressed and followed them out, confused. Why grab her and not me?
Then I saw - him. The woman knelt at his feet, trembling and silent while men of all ages surrounded them, including my fellow Pharisees. I sneaked into the crowd, not only to see and hear what was going on, but to make myself invisible lest someone decide to accuse me after all.
To further blend in, I picked up the nearest stone at my feet, a sharp piece of limestone the size of my fist. I twisted it around in my hand a few times until it was comfortable for throwing.
Listening to the Pharisees question this Jesus, I now understood their intent and why they didn’t bring me to him as well. They were trying to trap him.
But then he did something very strange. Instead of answering them, he knelt and drew something in the dirt. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see what. The Pharisees continued to demand an answer, but he remained silent. Several minutes passed before he stood and gazed at every person . . . including me.
Our eyes met and he said, “All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone.” He stooped again, writing in the dirt.
I glanced around at the crowd, each man looking as stunned as me. I lifted my hand, the stone feeling more heavy than it had at the beginning. I then noticed the pain and a few drops of blood dripping from between my fingers as its sharp edges dug into my palms from gripping it so hard.
The look in Jesus’ eyes still burning in my mind, showing me my sins . . . and my shame, I dropped the stone, turned and walked away.
But I only got as far as the nearest building before my legs almost gave out. I turned the corner and leaned against the cool stone wall, trying to erase the memory of those eyes . . . those eyes that saw all.
With the street soon empty with the exception of the woman and Jesus, I heard him ask, “Where are your accusers? Didn’t even one of them condemn you?”
“No, Lord,” she answered.
“Neither do I. Go and sin no more.”
Go and sin no more, I thought. Could I do that? Could I get past my own lusts and sin no more?
Do I even want to?