The Adulteress

Ellie Janzen

Only a rim of the sun could be seen over the smudged horizon, and it already felt like a hot day. The pale blue sky rose high and aloof over the dusty, sleepy city below. Palm trees reveled in a slight breeze, the faint rustling of their fronds added to the ordinary early morning noises of Jerusalem. In an hour or so throngs of people and the racket and chaos that always accompanied them would fill the streets, but for now they were occupied only by long, blue shadows.

Still, the holy city was never truly void of inhabitants. A steadily growing trickle of people was entering through the front gates, among them a travel-worn, unassuming man in his thirties. Dirt stained his feet, and a simple robe clad his slight form. He had a weak chin that didn’t look quite capable of holding up the weight of his large nose and heavy eyebrows. Dark hair fell down to his shoulders, and a short, woolly beard left only his brown cheeks and forehead exposed. As he made his way to the heart of the city he hummed softly under his breath.

The dirty roads finally led the man to the temple walls. The pale stone extended for hundreds of feet in either direction, and noise already clouded the air. Clusters of beggars sat on foul straw mats around the entrance, pleading and rattling clay bowls. A pair of Roman soldiers was posted nearby, but they paid no one any attention and received none in return. The man joined the stream flowing into the temple, and quickly passed into the sacred Jewish ground.

He simply wandered for a while, walking through the outer court. Sound rose over the walls as the market and city outside began to come to life. The temple itself filled with the chatter of Jews, the dull clank of coins being dropped into offering boxes, the loud prayer of the Pharisees, and the bleating of livestock being towed to sacrifice.

By the time the sun had fully risen, however, the scene had changed. The man sat on a low step in the courtyard, elbows braced on his knees as he talked earnestly to the huge crowd of people seated all around him. They listened with the rapt, slightly befuddled silence of people who didn’t really know what they were doing sitting on the ground, but found themselves unwilling to leave. Every few minutes someone else would pause at the edge of the group and listen to a sentence or two of what the man said. They would either shake their heads and keep walking, or sink to the ground and join the audience.

After the man had been speaking for about an hour and a half, a disturbance erupted at the gate. He paused, many people craned their necks around or stood up to better see what was going on, and excited talk erupted like brushfire across the temple.

The source of tension was heading for the man, who got slowly to his feet. As it neared, the surrounding mass recoiled with cries of shock and hatred. A band of priests were dragging a naked woman through the dirt by her hair. She thrashed and sobbed with pain, trying in vain to keep herself covered as the mob began to hiss and shout.

“Harlot!”

“Witch!”

“Such filth should be kept out of the temple! You befoul the ground of our God!”

The Pharisees did not encourage them, but nor did they make any attempt to stop the chaos. They threw the woman at the feet of the man and formed a circle around her. One stepped forward, a man who wore a green headdress and proud features.

“Teacher!” He called out mockingly, sarcastically. The noise of the crowd subsided to a low rumble of disgust as he spoke. “This woman has been caught in the act of adultery!” The volume of the mob rose to enraged shouts, and the priest paused before continuing. “In the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now, what do you say?” His eyes glinted with contempt and he stepped backwards. The other priests stood to either side of him, some avoiding the teacher’s gaze, others faces challenging boldly. The mass behind shifted like an ocean, rumbling with emotion and expectant tension.

The man looked at them calmly for a moment, then sat back down and dipped his finger in the dust, tracing patterns on the ground. The woman in front of him simply continued to shake, her tears speckling the earth. The Pharisees stood in confusion for a second, and then exploded in violent protest.

“Well, what should we do?”

“He doesn’t know!”

“Speak, Jesus!”

“He’s crazy!”

“I told you this wouldn’t work!”

“If you really are such a mighty prophet, what is the fate of this woman?”

“The law tells us to stone her to death!”

Jesus looked up from his sketch in irritation. He spoke in a ringing voice that instantly silenced the restless crowd. “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” Then he shook his head slightly and resumed drawing in the dirt.

The hiccuping sobs of the woman echoed through the utter stillness of the temple. She was crouched flat on the ground, her hair hanging in her face and her hands clenching the skin on her bare shoulders. For the first time, the focus of the crowd shifted from her to the Pharisees.

An elderly priest with a snow-white beard falling down his chest was the first to slip away. One by one, the rest of them also left. The crowd stood quietly, staring at Jesus and the woman.

Jesus looked up from the dirt for the second time. “Woman,” he asked in a soft, confused tone, “where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

She shuddered. It took her a few tries to speak, and when she did her words were watery and trembling. “No one, sir,” she whispered.

“Then neither do I condemn you. Go,” She got half way to her feet and began to retreat into the crowd. Another word from Jesus stopped her, “And leave your life of sin.”

She turned around and looked like she was about to say something. Her face, red from fear, tears and humiliation, twitched with some other emotion. Then she shook her head and darted back through the mob.

Jesus watched her go, and then rearranged himself more comfortably on the temple step.