The Adulteress

Chapter V: The Feast of the Tabernacles

I: The Adulteress

John viii. 1-59.

When dusk had settled over the city, Jesus walked without the walls, directing His steps toward the Mount of Olives.  This was a spot where He had been accustomed to pass the night during the several times He sojourned in Jerusalem, whether because He had been invited to take shelter in some dwelling place thereabouts, or, it may be, not having where to rest His head, He sought slumber and the cover of the spreading groves.  At daybreak He wended His way back to the Temple; and once "all the people came to Him and having seated Himself, He taught them." The Sanhedrin had not in the least renounced the pursuit; but comprehending that, more than anything else, it was expedient for them to draw the multitude away from Him, they turned their whole attention to this end.  Something occurred immediately to further their projects.

The seven days spent beneath their sylvan huts were not without peril for the uprightness of the Israelite; often times merriment degenerated into licence, and it so happens that during this very night a woman had been taken in adultery.  The custom of stoning the guilty wife had ceased to be enforced for a long time now; divorce alone satisfied the vengeance of the wronged husband; and, at this period especially, when the Roman authorities reserved to themselves all rights over life and death, no other punishment was possible.

Nonetheless did the Sanhedrin-Councillors drag the sinning woman up to the Temple, and pushing her into the presence of the Lord,—

He fell to writing with His finger in the sand. J-J Tissot.

"Master," they said," this woman has just now being taken in adultery.  Moses commanded as in the Law to stone a woman guilty of this crime.  What say you as to this?"

They meant to oblige Him either to put Himself in opposition to Moses by rescuing the sinner, or else force Him to consign her to the death torture.  Now they foresaw that the latter decision would not only destroy His great renown for gentleness in the people's eyes, but would moreover expose Him to the vengeance of Rome.

Jesus, at a glance, detected the snare; beneath this zealous exterior of piety, He saw clearly that there was nothing but hypocrisy.  Hence He deigned no reply; but stooping down toward the ground, He fell to writing with His finger in the sand.  This He did to indicate that any profitless occupation, such as this of tracing letters in the dust, disconnected and meaningless signs though they were, yet in His eyes seemed worthier of attention than a query proposed by these fanatic Doctors.

And on their part or they chose to act as if unconscious of the Master’s disdain; they persisted in attracting His notice to the shame-struck, wretched woman, and waxed the more urgent with look and voice.  At last Jesus true Himself up.

"Let him who is without sin among you," He said, "cast the first stone."

Without decrying the law of blood, still He would not have any hands essay the execution of its mandates save such as were worthy of the charge.  Not a finger was lifted in this assembly, which until now had shown itself so arrogant.  Jesus, once more half-kneeling on the ground, began to write again; "it was their sins He was recording in the sand," so says a curiously lection in an ancient Codex, and each man there understood this muted language, whereby they stood self-convicted.  Scribes and Pharisees were alike dumbfounded and silent; their hands crept away from the sinner’s garments, their eyes fell, overwhelmed with shame they slunk away, one after another,— first the older ones among them, their souls consumed with evil spite, then the younger men.

 Soon in all this open space, — here in the centre of the crowded court, — there remained no one else besides Jesus and the guilty woman, "the uttermost misery, and the uttermost mercy," (Saint Augustine, in Joan.viii.) here left finally face to face.

"And neither will I condemn you; go and sin no more." J-J Tissot.

She was still shuddering at the feet of the Master.  Once more Jesus to direct, looked about Him, and seeing no one but her,—

"Woman," He said, "where are you all accusers?  Has no one condemned you?"

"No one, Lord."

"And neither will I condemn you; go and sin no more."

This pardon was a marvel of Charity, yet it so completely overturned the received code of morality that for the long while it continued to be a stumbling block for the Church.  Always pitiless to the adulteress, those Eastern nations who became Christians were loathe to believe that Jesus while so sensitive as to everything pertaining to chastity, would publicly protect a fallen woman, humiliate her accusers, and shield her from punishment.  Would not such indulgence merely embolden men in crime?  This fear led a great number of pastors to pass over the Gospel story in silence; some Churches went so far as to suppress it in their copies, and so nowadays we vainly look for it in many ancient manuscripts.  Succeeding ages learned to draw or adjust the idea of its meaning, and so restored this page of the Gospel, which sets the Heart of Jesus before us in the truest light; indeed, there is none which teaches in clearer accents that the real triumph of chastity lies, not so much in flying any contact with the defiled soul, but rather in purefying it, even as the ray of sunlight penetrates the mire and illumines it without being soiled thereby.  And it was this the Master proposed to show by His tender mercy towards the erring woman,—that charity and grace are mightier than punishment to prevent wrong-doing; and so too He wished to remind men, weakly indulgent as they are as regards their own disorderly deeds, yet so severe toward women, that their mutual crime is of equal offence in the eyes of Divine Justice; most of all He meant to tell sinning woman, spurned and despised by the world, that there is no dark stain which the hand of Jesus cannot wipe away, no fault which He will not pardon unto the repentant sinner.

Thereupon Jesus proceeded to the Treasury where he sat down and continued to instruct the people.  The part of the Temple known by this name was the court reserved for women, where there stood thirteen caskets, placed there to receive offerings.  Within this open space rose two great candlesticks fifty cubits in height and lacquered with gold.  Every night, during the festival season, the glare of its sparkling lights could be seen over the whole town and all round about the populace danced to the sound of flutes and every sort of instruments.

Jesus looking at these great torches, now extinguished, was moved thereby to say:—

"I am the Light of the world, he who follows Me does not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." 

Here again came a new swarm of Pharisees, who mingled with the other auditors of all ranks, and at once found fault with this statement, declaring that it was worthless regarded as evidence, inasmuch as Jesus rendered it to Himself.  The Lord replied that light does not have to prove its existence, it needs only to shine; nevertheless, if, with the Law, they demanded the testimony of two witnesses, in addition to His own self-evident testimony He might add that of the Father Who had sent Him into this world.

The Pharisees greeted these words with loud mockery, bidding him produce this Witness whereof He spoke.  It was of no avail for Jesus to urge that, if they would but open their eyes, they would see in Him the Father; this allusion to His Divinity only the more enraged the muttering lawyers and Scribes, insofar that many proposed to take violent measures against Him on the spot; but this time too, "no one stopped Him because His hour was not yet come."

Without showing any signs of fear Jesus continued speaking; going on to tell them, as He had done more than once heretofore, of His early death and the misery which it would bring down upon the Jews.

"I go away," He said, "and you shall seek Me and you shall die in your sins.  Whither I go, you cannot come."

"Is he about to kill himself, then?" exclaimed the princes of Jewry; "because he says: ‘You cannot come whither I go.’"

The popular belief held that the man guilty of suicide sunk himself to the nethermost regions of Hell.  Was the Christ about to descend to those dark abysses, so that no one might be able to follow Him?  Jesus made these scoffers realise that Hell was destined for them rather than for Him.

"You are from below," He said to them, "and I am from on High; you are of the world, I am not of the world.  I have told you that you shall die in your sins; ay, if you do not believe that I am He, you shall die in your sins." 

"Who are you?" was the Jews' reply.

"That which I have told you from the beginning," Jesus answered, and He reiterated what He had declared so many times, that all things pertaining to Him, His teaching, His knowledge of men, His right to judge them, came, not from Himself, but from the Father Who had sent Him.

These words merely puzzled without enlightening His antagonists, for they did not conceive that He had God for His Father; And so the Lord added that only His death could dissipate their blindness.  Then He spoke of His Union with God, of His Obedience, of the Cross whereon He was to be lifted up, while even there His Father would not abandon Him in utter loneliness; and so forceful were His words that many, even some of the most headstrong, felt their hearts drawn toward Him.

But it was, after all, only a faint flash of faith, so weak and flickering that the lightest breath would extinguish it.  It was put to the test immediately.  Addressing these hearts now had touched so unexpectedly, Jesus said to them:

"If you faithfully observe My words you shall be truly My disciples and you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." His last words reawakened their prejudices.

"We are children of Abraham," they responded, " and we have never been in slavery; why then do you say, You shall be freed?"

The Master showed them that as long as they were sinners they were the slaves of sin, and could only expect the lowest position in their Father's Home; it was for Him, the Son and Heir of the Household, to deliver them from this bondage, that they might become really free.

"Abraham is our father," the Jews objected.

"If you are the children of Abraham," replied Jesus, " do the works of Abraham.  But now you seek to kill Me, Who have told you the truth which I have learned of God.  Abraham did not thus."

They only gathered from this that Jesus was speaking of some infernal powers by which they had been misled, even as their ancestors had been ensnared by heathen divinities, and that therefore He charged them, in the figurative speech of Prophecy, with having prostituted their souls with lying, so that thereby the were become the offspring of sin.

"We are not born of fornication," they interposed, "We have but one Father,—God."

"If God were your Father," answered Jesus, "you would love Me because I am born of God, and I come to you on His behalf....  But you are the children of their Devil, and you do his works.  He has been a murderer from the beginning, and he has never rested in the truth, because the truth is not in him.  Which one of you will accuse Me of sin?" Then, showing the falsehood and treachery of him who is a liar and the father of lies, He contrasted with this the holiness of His word, and tried to move these doctors, who now for an instant had believed in Him, to accept the truth.

But henceforth their own overweening self conceit, cruelly wounded by His words, was to render the hearts of these sectaries impervious to grace; they repaid Him with fierce abuses, treating Jesus as though He were a Samaritan and possessed by the Devil.  The Lord endeavoured to calm this tempest of passion, showing them that His only end was the glory of the Father, and promising everlasting life to those who received His doctrine.

"Of a truth, of a truth, I say this to you, if any one keeps My word he shall never know death."

In this the Jews only saw another blasphemy.

"Now we know well enough that you are possessed by the Devil," they said; "Abraham is dead, and the Prophets, and you say: If anyone keeps My word, he shall never taste death.  Are you greater than our Father Abraham who is dead?  And the Prophets are dead also.  Who do you pretend you are?"

Once again the Saviour spoke to them of His Union with the Father Who glorifies Him, "this Father," He added, "Whom you call your God, and notwithstanding you know Him not; and if I told you that I know Him not, I should be a liar like unto you, but I do know Him and I keep His word.  Abraham your father desired earnestly to see My days; he hath seen it, and hath rejoiced thereat."

"What!" shouted the Jews, "you have not lived fifty years as yet, and you have seen Abraham!"

As His only answer to this, Jesus proclaimed Himself eternal even as the everlasting Father:—

"Of a truth, of a truth, I say unto you, before Abraham had been made, I am."

At these words, the wrath of the Jews knew no further bounds; with one accord they sprang for a heap of stones collected for the work on the Temple, intending to stone the Nazarene then and there.  But Jesus, profiting by the moment of confusion, disappeared in the crowd and departed without suffering any hurt. 

Totus tuus ego sum 

Et omnia mea tua sunt;

Tecum semper tutus sum:
Ad Jesum per Mariam