A little story based on the adulteress in John 8:3-11.
Their iron grips bruise my wrists as they drag me before Him. My hair, disheveled, flies in all directions. My veil was forgotten.
My clothes, hastily thrown on me, drooped and reveal things that only two men have before seen. As they drag me through the city, the stones along the path leave their gashes in my feet. A trail of blood follows me, for I will die at its end.
My husband, a scribe, the holiest of them all, makes the first accusation. "Master, this woman was taken in the very act of adultery. The law of Moses says we should stone her, but what say you?"
He does not even say my name. Has he given me up for dead already?
The Master looks up, directly at me. His eyes, like fire, do not linger on my body, but rather on my soul. The fire in his eyes burns my soul until I can smell the rotting flesh.
Yet he says nothing.
"Master, this woman has committed adultery. Shall we stone her?" My brother, on the other side of the Master, speaks. The sorrow in his eyes is enough to make me melt in shame.
But what can I do, standing here in their midst?
The Master stoops down, runs his finger along the ground. Does He not hear them? Can He not hear their accusations?
He draws one letter: B.
The uproar grows louder about us. Men shout his name, others shout mine. Stone her. Kill her. The law sayeth…
The havoc grows around us, but I hear none of it. My eyes are fastened to His hand, the words He writes in the sand.
Be.
They interrupt Him again. "Master, shall we stone her?"
"Who among you has not sinned?" He replies, looking at each one in the eyes. "Throw the first stone. Prove your holiness."
Surely my husband will throw the first stone. He fulfills all the law he obeys all the prophets, down to the last jot and tittle.
My husband looks at me, then at the Master. His chest rises and falls, his breathing grows faster. At last he drops the stone and leaves me: all alone.
My brother follows close behind, and one by one all do in kind.
At last the Master and I are alone. I groan. Surely He, whom we call Lord, is without sin.
He writes another word on the ground. Clean.
I cannot bear to meet His eyes when He looks up again. "Woman, where are your accusers? Did none of them condemn you?"
"No man."
"Neither do I. Go and sin no more." He stands and walks away, leaving me alone.
I fall to my knees as the impact of His words strikes me in the heart. Go and sin no more.
I run my fingers along the words He wrote in the sand.
Be clean.
Author's Note:
The nameless women in the Bible fascinate me. Is there some particular reason their names are not mentioned? Did the author not know them? Did the author not care?
I have always wondered how this woman felt, and hence this fic.
So, discussion question: Have you ever wondered about all the nameless people (women in particular) in the Bible? Which ones do you find most fascinating?