Adulterer.
Hear the word, and something inside of you tightens, silently screaming out ‘unclean.’ You step backward, glance sidewise in judgment, or quickly look the away, as your spirit attempts to put distance between the ‘you’ that is righteous and the ‘them’ who have clearly fallen.
The story of the adulterous woman is an unlikely discussion for Easter Sunday. And yet I feel compelled to examine it. Throughout the Bible, adultery is a prevalent symbol and allegory both in the old and new testaments. Contrary to our intuition to pivot from the topic, the theme is so widespread I’m afraid it was intended to be studied and cannot be outrun.
‘Us versus Them’ mentality, or the spirit of comparison, lures us into creating a hierarchy of our fellow man. Sheltered under the guise of legalism, we twist ‘laws’ to develop a ladder of morality, which somehow ranks us on the higher end of the spectrum in comparison to our brothers. However, when we finally understand ‘Us is Them,’ that is to say, we are the same as our brothers, neither superior nor less than, we begin to recognize that no system which considers itself ‘morality’ could ever set out to rank us. We inhale and exhale the same air as our brothers and sisters, which forces us rather uncomfortably to admit in this instance that not only are we wrong in judging, running from, or condemning the adulterer… we, in fact, share the same spirit.
We think first of the adulterous woman. While we examine the story, we build a monument for ourselves, then stand upon it, all the while pointing our finger at a whore who threw away her chastity vows, disgraced her husband, and found solace in the arms of others. Before we built our monument, we were standing next to her—yet we ignored her tears, watched her teetering on the balance beam of morality, without extending a helping hand as she tried desperately to hold truth. Legalism does not bend to circumstance, so we offer no grace to her lonely heart, and in arrogance and joy, we abandoned her and stand now among those who condemn her.
Many might find comfort in stopping the investigation here—an unclean ‘woman’ has fallen. May we wash our hands of her—the end.
But we should know by now parables point to deeper truths. In the stories, the woman plays the ‘role of’ the adulterer… but the character of adultery has substantially deeper roots. We see the narrative reenacted time and time again… to make sure we have all understood, we even see Hosea marry a prostitute, under specific instructions from the Lord.
Further investigation reveals that the adulterer, while represented by a female character, was never truly meant to point toward a woman at all. So, who then is the whore? Israel is the unfaithful wife, who blatantly disregards the covenant, and in the spirit of desperation, turns to idolatry, chasing down and enthroning any god she can conceive.
For a passing moment, we feel superior to ‘her.’ But then we realize we too find ourselves at times lonely, tired, and weak, desperate for a tangible God. Since God and love defy our understanding while requiring a patience we cannot comprehend, we settle for the comfort and certainty of religious tradition. We use the gifts from our Creator, to build a god with our own hands and offer to him alone access to our despairing hearts.
There is a false image floating in contemporary culture which paints the Creator as an angry god on high, who waits with fiery judgment (not meant to free us, but ensnare us), who unjustly demands a blood sacrifice to cover our filth and shame. I pray we have the strength to replace this image with something which is closer to the truth and yet all together beyond comprehension. God is creation dying for creation (like the sun) he himself is the shame covering, he himself the offering, he himself breath, he himself the lamb sacrifice. Not just once, but always, from before the beginning to after the end, with everything in between.
The false, angry, bloodthirsty, child-abusing god we have enthroned would certainly condemn adultery to a swift and painful death. While the true God, would stand not against us, but with us in our agony, until the final moment when he throws himself in front of the guilty verdict.
The gospel of John offers a glimpse of how Jesus deals with the adulterer, though this time, she is simply portrayed as a woman. The Pharisees caught her in the act of adultery, so there is no denying her guilt. By twisting the spirit of ‘the law’ originally created to serve and protect, they now use it to convict and condemn. With little regard for the life they might so casually take, they parade the accused in front of Jesus and a crowd. In an effort not only to condemn her, but also with the intent of ensnaring (as false religion so often does) the Messiah. With the trap methodically set, legalism waits patiently for Jesus to step forward. He will either uphold the law, condemning her to death by stoning, thereby standing with legalism, or he will be forced to disregard the law, thus condemning himself.
He does neither and both. Christ did not come to abolish the law but to fulfill it. And he did not come to judge the world, but to save it. (Matthew 5:17, John 12:47) Jesus is scarcely disturbed by the circumstances, as he knelt writing with his finger in the dirt—what we do not know. He finally stands to face the accusers.
“Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.”
Anger and judgment slowly dissipate, and one by one, the accusers silently set down their stones and exit the scene. The confrontation once again displays the power of Truth to disarm and free, of which Isaiah foretold. (Isaiah 2:4)
Jesus continues to write in the dirt until only He and the accused remain. With no stone in his hand, unprepared to implement the judgment, Jesus stands again to face her as the only one worthy to carry out her death sentence.
“Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”
She says, “No one, Lord.”
“Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.”
And now even the bait in the trap goes free. And the woman walks away to begin again.
As we attempt to navigate cultures numerous depictions of the Creator, I think it significant to remember who set the trap and who disarmed it. Here we see the power of false religion manipulate the letter of the law to disregard the spirit of it. Here we watch as those high on the rung of morality, unashamedly threaten the life of a woman to bring glory to themselves. Necessary to remember, it was never the Lord who paraded the woman in her sin publicly—though He undeniably sees all done in darkness. Instead, He not only sidesteps the trap, but gently, wisely, and confidently saves the life of the bait.
I am left to wonder, where do we stand in this story? ‘Us versus Them’ mentality leaves me casually watching the scene unfold from the outside, while ‘Us is Them’ mentality helps me understand I am not merely a bystander to this story. This is my story, our story.
And now, I am split in two. Half of me stands high on the pedestal I build myself, with an outstretched finger pointed at the accused; while the other half saw her reflection in the mirror, climbed down in shame and took her place next to the damned, all the while knowing she too embodies the spirit of a whore.
So now I stand both as the accuser and the accused. I am hopelessly ensnared in a death trap I built for others.
But then I remember that it is Easter Sunday. And I recall the false religion and legalism which solicited a conviction and crucified innocence. And with a heavy heart, I understand I may stand there too as the accuser and the accused.
I imagine a different ending to the story of the adulterous woman… what if the crowd had not dispelled? What if even one accuser had overlooked their faults, seen themselves equal with God, fit to carry out judgment? While some may consider it unfair to speculate, I think we have enough evidence to imagine a hypothetical answer…
Jesus finally stands up from the dirt, between the accuser and the accused.
Staring at the accuser, he might say, “It is me you wanted all along anyway, set her free.”
Then He may likely turn to the woman; he may likely turn to me, “Go, and from now on, sin no more.”
And just like that, he would swallow my death in exchange for my freedom.
I think something like that happened on Good Friday thousands of years ago. And because of that sacrifice, I know the whore in me who betrayed the covenant is set free to go forth and begin again. And as for accuser half of me left standing on the pedestal…the one who someday might find themselves entangled in a trap of their own making…I think He mediated that too.
As He prayed from the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
And soon after cried out, “It is finished.” Then offered His last breath.
