Chapter 30

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The next few minutes are a blur, and all I can say for sure is that my heart is pounding hard and I can feel blood rushing in my head. "No, No, No," I keep pleading to my captors, my voice strained and foreign. "No! You cannot do this! I am innocent!"

And yet...I know that I am not. I know the law.

The morning light is shining as they take me through the city gates, my hands and legs now bound as they carry me between them. Soon, we are at the gate of the temple, and in a few minutes, I am thrown, still bound, on the smooth stones of the courtyard.

I taste blood in my mouth and a terrible ringing pain is emanating from my cheek where it has hit against the hard rocks. I scramble to my feet as soon as I can, but there is nowhere to run.

"This woman was caught in adultery," I hear Eli shout. His voice rings out over the courtyard, and I look up. There are early morning worshipers there, mostly men, and their heads turn like those of serpents. They approach.

My heartbeat quickens.

"No, no," I shout. "He is jealous! He wants to marry me! I refused!"

I hear myself shouting like a mad woman. I taste the blood in my mouth, and I see the reflection of myself in the men who've gathered around: I am a crazy woman, a prostitute, an adulteress, a sinner.

"No! Believe me! Someone believe me!" I shout. "They killed him, up on the hill!"

But it is in that last sentence that my fate is sealed, and some of the men shake their heads and spit on the ground.

Just then, there is a commotion from inside the temple, and I manage to wrench my head to the side.

"No," I whisper.

For it is him, Jesus, coming out from the inside of the temple, his eyes fixed straight on mine. "No," I repeat. Now the guilt and shame is multiplied by ten, and I turn my head for I cannot look into his eyes again.

The crowd is now beginning to jeer, and I can see more and more men have joined them from the streets. I see women and children pouring in too, and some have picked up stones, huge stones bigger than a man's palm. I bite my lower lip and my trembling gets even worse.

"No! Do not kill me! Have mercy!" I shout to the crowd. I am kneeling in front of them, my hands tied in front of me as I raise them in supplication. But my pleas seem to fan the flames, and the energy of the crowd now seems to multiply, the sound echoing and amplifying as it hits the courtyard walls.

More and more people stream in.

Just then, there is a movement in front of me. I know who it is, but I cannot look. He is standing only a few paces from me, right in the middle of the crowd of Pharisees, saying nothing. I dart a glance upward and see Eli there, standing close to him, and only a few paces off is Phanuel. He is looking at me with a sadness in his eyes that makes me want to reach out to him, to plead with him. "Phanuel!" I cry. "Save me!"

But he turns his head away.

Just then Eli speaks:

"Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. Now in the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?"

There is a jeering note in Eli's voice. I steal a glance at Jesus, but I shouldn't have. He is again, looking straight at me, oblivious it seems, to the jeering man beside him, oblivious to the crowds too.

I shudder. In his eyes, so unlike Phanuel's, so unlike Eli's, so unlike even Simeon's, I see something burning, and it shocks my entire body into stillness, and for some reason, I now hold onto his gaze, and somehow the jeering and chanting of the crowd seems to diminish and blur.

He nods at me, then bends down to the ground. For half a second I wonder if he is looking for a stone to throw at me.

But he is not. He is moving his pointer finger through the sand, tracing something - words? numbers? pictures? - I strain to see but I can see nothing. The crowd goes quiet and I can only hear the rustling of fabric as they too strain to see.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Jesus stands up again.

He turns and looks at Eli, at the group of Pharisees, and then at the entire crowd.

"Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her!"

His voice echoes throughout the courtyard and for a long moment, there is only silence. I see the stones in people's hands, and I brace myself for the first one to launch. I brace my head for the explosion, thinking of Simeon's blood-drenched face.

Another moment passes, and then Jesus bends down again and begins to trace his finger through the sand.

A murmuring begins in the crowd.

I don't know whether to look at my attackers or at this strange savior. But I cannot help keeping my eyes on him. I must keep my eyes on him.

And then. I hear the echo of a stone hitting the ground.

Thud.

My head whips to the left. It is an old man in tattered robes. He is shaking his head and turning to go. The stone is left there at his feet, and I hold my breath, waiting for someone else to pick it up and lob it at me.

Thud.

Another stone falls to the ground. It is to my right: another old man. I can scarcely believe it.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Three elderly men drop their stones and go. I wait, shaking.

Jesus is there, still writing in the sand. He has yet to look up at me.

A whole chorus of thuds follow, and I watch as, like a trickling stream building to a torrent, the people one by one drop their stones and leave.

Finally, it is just Eli standing there, Eli and Jesus still writing in the sand.

I dare not look into Eli's eyes for fear of enraging him, yet I am sure he can see my red face, my tears, my panic, my fear.

Then, I take one furtive glance up, and I can see in Eli's eyes that something has broken. He opens his palm and the stone rolls out of it.

Thud.

I am still shaking uncontrollably, even as he shakes his head, turns, and walks back inside the temple building.

Finally, the courtyard is empty.

Jesus looks up from his writing a second later and then walks the few steps to me. I can see the recognition in his eyes. I can see he knows me well.

"Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?" he asks.

I want to throw myself in his arms. I want to sob uncontrollably. But I would not dare. I know who this is now. I know my Father would have recognized him long ago.

"No one, Lord," I answer, my eyes filling with tears. I want to tell him how sorry I am. I want to tell him what a fool I have been. But I have just said it all in one word, "Lord."

He looks at me for a long moment, and what is communicated without words is far more than I could ever put on paper. The depths of my sin - the depths of me. And more importantly, the glory and the depth of the Lord. My Lord.

Finally, he speaks.

"Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more."

And just like that my hands come free and me legs are unbound, and I fall at my feet in front of him and worship.

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