I often learn the meta-message of certain
passages best when I engage them on the level of imagination. With this in mind, my hope is that you will
forgive me for taking a less-than-orthodox approach to understanding the
relevance of the Gospel story of the woman caught in adultery, and that you are
able to find in this personal depiction of John 7:53-8:11 a message of
forgiveness, solidarity, and love.
As she was dragged to the temple by her accusers, the woman’s veritable “via dolorosa” began. She thought to herself: “How has this
happened? I was so careful… both of us
were… how did they find out?”
No one really knew her; no one had taken the time to know her. And so the woman had been forced to look for
love in places the world around her had condemned. The love she had found had left her empty and
alone, as she stumbled down her walk of shame.
The woman’s eyes were filled with tears of fear and anger: “Why didn’t he
stand by me when they caught us? I had
given him everything: my body, my affection, my dignity. And he just vanished. He used me, and threw me away like some rag
of old clothing.”
The woman’s accusers had been rough as they prodded her along. She had fallen a few times, scraping open the
wounds on the palms of her hands, the soles of her feet, and the chambers of
her heart. Once she had been beautifully
decorated for her lover with rich perfumes, dazzling jewelry, and flowing
fabrics. Now, she looked like a homeless
dog; mud-encrusted and cheeks stained by tears.
The woman said to herself: “Today, I’m going to die from what I’ve run from
my whole life; it won’t be the stones that kill me. I’m going to die and, if I admit it, nothing
will really change for me. I’m going to
die – alone.”
The party of the accusers and the accused stopped when it reached the
temple area. There, a man was sitting
down, talking to a crowd of people (Jn. 8:2).
With what seemed like malice, directed not at the woman, but at the man
sitting down, the accusers began to speak: “Teacher, this woman was caught in
the very act of committing adultery.
Now, in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” (Jn. 8:4-5)
The way in which these words were laced with such hatred and arrogance made
the woman wince. Had she not been the
one about to die herself, she would have felt pity for the man to whom her
accusers spoke.
The man himself did not seem to be affected by this onslaught of verbiage,
though. Instead, he simply began to write
in the earth before him (Jn. 8:6). The
woman felt a deep desire to see what he wrote… Were those words? Or maybe symbols; a fish perhaps? Her curiosity almost made her forget about
her fate…
When the woman’s accusers did not receive the reaction they wanted, they
continued their barrage of threats and goads at the man. They also began to ready their weaponry of
stones, priming themselves like a pitcher at a baseball game.
It was then that the man straightened up and said to them, “Let the one
among you who is without sin be the first to throw as stone at her” (Jn.
8:7). With this, the man began to write
in the dirt again; it was his turn to wait for a response now.
Everyone seemed stunned by these simple words: the accusers, with their
stones in hand, seemed paralyzed with both anger and shame; the woman stood in
the middle of them (Jn. 8:3), simply dumb-founded. Even the crowd that had gathered to speak to
the man they called “Teacher” were all in a trance-like state.
These simple words had left their world, a world built upon the foundation
of moral certitude at any cost, floundering for a shred of understanding. These simple words had dealt a death blow to
pride and self-righteousness because no one – not one accuser, not one scribe
or Pharisee, not one onlooker, had the capacity to throw a stone on the grounds
laid down by these simple words.
Thud. Grumble. Jeer.
Thud. These sounds – of stones
falling out of hands and curses falling out of mouths – were the only reply the
accusers could give. They backed away
from this “teacher,” like hyenas spooked by a distant lion’s roar.
Moments passed, and then the woman was left alone in front of the man. She wanted to thank him, but she was too
ashamed of her condition to even consider speaking to him. She wanted to know who he was; how he came to
have such wisdom and power over hearts and minds.
Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Where are they? Has no one condemned you?” [The woman]
replied, “no one, sir.” Then Jesus said,
“Neither do I condemn you. Go and from
now on do not sin anymore.”(Jn. 8:10-11)
Her eyes met his gaze, and for the first time in her life, the woman felt
like she was not alone. This man somehow
knew her in a way more intimate than any physical encounter could achieve. He had given her a mercy that had stayed the
execution of her spirit as well as her body.
He had shown her a love that saw her for who she was and not what she
could give; he had saved her that day: from her accusers and from the solitude
of sin.
As she turned to leave, she was able to decipher what Jesus had written in
the earth. It was her name.
