“Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”
“No one, sir,” she said.
“Then neither do I condemn you.” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.” John 8:10b, 11.
She heard them sneering at her stupidity and discussing how they could use her situation against that man from Galilee. Like everyone else in Jerusalem she had heard of Jesus, although she’d never seen Him personally. His reputation, however, made Him sound too good to be true, though not for her, because she was going to die now, there was no escape. She knew these men wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of catching her in the act if they didn’t have some other motive—they might prefer her dead, but they wouldn’t wasted their time had it not been for the Nazarene. If this new rabbi was anything like them, the stones would start flying before she could be tried.
But being dragged roughly through the streets occupied her thoughts too much for her to think of anything except staying on her feet so they wouldn’t kick or slap her. In moments of calm where the business of navigating the crowds kept them from abusing her much she wondered what had happened to her man. In the confusion and chaos of the teachers of the law and Pharisees storming into the house, he had somehow disappeared. She should have known because he was always so cautious about their trysts and some of the men around her must have known him, so let him go. Her next thought was for her children…who would take care of them once she was gone? Children of sinners didn’t fair well in Jerusalem, much less anywhere else in Israel.
From the triumphant attitudes of the men pushing and dragging her along, one wouldn’t think they were going to stone her. In fact, from the comments she heard she knew this whole thing wasn’t about her sin at all but some ellaborate scheme to trap this man Jesus into a political or spiritual mistake. As she stumbled along, she realized they didn’t give a fig about her necessarily, though they hated her with a passion for her adultery, but it was the man, Jesus, they hated even more than her. This made her curious about Him, though with this situation unfolding, she barely had time to think about it.
They arrived at the temple and the men with her were nearly screaming out their righteous indignation, calling for Jesus and demanding her death. At this point the world seemed surreal, her surroundings and the faces staring at her in either shock, disbelief or anger were just a backdrop for keeping herself from falling down too much. Other voices and men joined in the mob rushing toward Jesus somewhere ahead.
Finally, they reached a gathering of people crowded around the temple steps listening to a rabbi sitting down on the top of them so He could be seen and heard. The vehemence of her captors startled and parted the crowd like cutting soft cheese, a look of horror and disgust apparent on many of the faces. Jesus, however, didn’t look at all surprised or agitated, but silently watched their progress till they reached the temple steps and made her stand before them with her eyes on the ground. At some point, she risked a glance at Jesus, wondering what sort of man He was and what His face would show. In that one glance she saw a strange mix of emotions which turned her expectation on its ear, and it was her turn to be shocked and amazed. There was no condemnation there, only sadness, stern disapproval and a kindness so out of place in this situation as to stand out as abnormal.
She knew the law (it was read every Sabbath), they had to let her defend herself if she could, but she doubted she’d get the chance. They had caught her redhanded, there was no defense. Then something completely unexpected happened which shocked everyone, Jesus surveyed the crowd, His face unreadable for a moment, she caught a flash of anger as his gaze came to rest on the men accusing her. He waited for them to speak their judgment against her, then paused for a moment as He considered her, after which He bent down and began to write something in the dirt. Her heart sank as she realized this man read her like a farmer reads the weather. Her one talent besides what had brought her to this place was reading men, which wasn’t all that hard to do, for they wore their lust always beneath the surface, though some were better than others at disguising it.
What disturbed her and eventually alarmed her in that instant of recognition was she could read no lust whatsoever in His look, only pity, sadness and something she had never seen before in anyone’s face: an longing that had nothing to do with her body or what He could get out of it. Could it be He actually wanted to give her something without asking for her to pay with her pride?
No, no, no! Men didn’t do that nor could they, for their hunger for her always overwhelmed their desire to rescue. She couldn’t read so she had no idea what He was writing in the dust, and she sensed rather than saw the agitation it caused her captors, but whatever the reason (whether the content or the fact that Jesus seemed to ignore them) it bothered them a lot. They persisted He give them an answer, the frustration in their voices showing they could feel themselves losing control of the situation.
Jesus let the tension build to an almost unbearable peak, then stood back up and said, “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.”
Now she was sure He was the most different man she had ever met. No one would have given a rotten fig to save her life except this man, who didn’t even raise His voice or argue the merits of forgiveness over judgment. This one question stalemated the trap and set her on the road to a different outcome, she dould feel it. She made herself keep her eyes on the ground, though she couldn’t help noticing the oldest of the teachers struggling in fury and helplessness, his face red with indignation, defeat and grudging admiration.
He left first, shoulders slumped and slinking away through the crowd. Then one by one the others left the same way, and as the older ones disappeared, the younger more excitable men began to see their credibility melting away, which left them exposed, out numbered and lost as to do. None of them stuck around too long, though, until soon she was standing relatively alone with Jesus in front of her still writing on the ground and the crowd looking on in both admiration and consternation, wondering what He would do. Would Jesus actually declare her innocent? Would He pronounce her guilt then excuse it? Or would He stand in the place of God to forgive her like He’d done that guy in Capernaum?
When He stood up, dusting off His hands and looking around in sardonic amusement, she noticed both the sadness again and a look of satisfaction. For the first time she mustered up the courage to glance around her and found no one even looking at her except to dart between the two of them, but their eyes always fixed back on Jesus, waiting for His reaction. For His part He was quietly studying her without giving a clue as to what He would do next—or may be she just couldn’t read the expression on His face to know what they meant. She sensed He understood timing better than anybody ever had since He let the silent expectation of the crowd build again into something like them sitting on the edge of their mental seats.
Jesus’ next question sent a thrill of hope shooting up and down her spine. “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”
You must excuse her amusement mixed with relief in her answer because no one had ever won an argument with the men who brought her here before without shouting them down or threatening them. So she answered, “No one, sir.”
The relief at being let off the hook, suddenly turned to surging joy and conviction at Jesus’ final declaration, “Then neither do I condemn you, go and leave your life of sin.”
No one gave people like her a second chance for the teachers of the law and Pharisees believed the curse of their sin couldn’t be broken, which meant the filth of her sin would cling to her even if she repented. Sure, her reputation would gain some by repentence, but she would still be considered unclean and no man would ever touch her again, her life would remain fractured, her children unclean because of her past. Yet here was this man doing just that.
For a long while all she could do was stand there silently looking into His face, the tears began to flow down her cheeks, the flood growing stronger and stronger as the damn held inside years burst from the joy of forgiveness as well as the weight of her guilt. Suddenly her knees buckled and she found herself weeping uncontrollably at His feet, aching with all her heart to grab them and hold on for dear life, but afraid her touch would be rejected. She felt filthy in His presence, at the same time cleansed and whole for the first time in her life; loved beyond her ability to grasp and valued for more than the pleasure her body offered—in fact, her value had nothing whatsoever to do with that at all. It was only her.
The look in Jesus’ eyes (what she could see of it through her torrent of tears) said it all. Compassion washing over her and elevating her above her past left her limp as a wet rag—which, considering the tears still streaming down her face to soak her simple garment, was a description not all that far off.
He had told her to go, but she didn’t feel safe anywhere else or with anyone else and knew she would never be able to leave her old life behind if she left His side. Without touching Him physically (the conditioning of the rabbis’ traditions affecting her grasp of reality for the moment), she clung to His presence with a ferocity that bordered on the extreme. Hope flooded her being, though it had no goal or object to anchor it besides Him.
If she had been able to see the crowd’s expressions, she would have seen utter amazement, for sure, but something else as well. A dawning of what Jesus of Nazareth stood for began to fill the faces of even the most hardened person in the crowd. Some faces grew disapproving, many others found joy as they realized here was One to whom all sin could be shown without condemnation. Comprehension of what this would mean only enlightened a few, but the consequences of what it would bring to Israel’s economy if left unchecked thunder struck everyone.
Without denying she was a sinner or the gravity of her sin, Jesus declared her forgiven, giving her a new lease on life. The dark path she took with its degrading social constraints and outcast labels, fell away to reveal light not at the end of a long tunnel. instead she stood in the mouth of the cave she either entered on her own or someone pushed her into without her consent. Knowing her condition as hopeless before this, Jesus’ pronouncement of freedom left her speechless for a time until the words began to gush out of her in praise and love.
The innocence lost had been found; the condemnation deserved became a reprieve; the convicted, certainly, but the guilt drained away. Nothing but the loving words of Jesus remained.