When Jesus Wept by Brock Thoene, Bodie

reasons. Jesus was slandered for his persistent righteousness. Mary was justly shunned for her flagrant sin.
    Mary’s presence in Jerusalem was something I dreaded, even though she was counted as dead to our family.
    It was the morning of the final day of the high holy days when I happened upon my sister and Jesus of Nazareth by chance.
    I rose early and made my way toward the Temple for the morning sacrifice. It was cool. The sun had not yet warmed the stones. The wide porticoes and courts were almost deserted. Only one place was crowded. I spotted Jesus seated on the steps near the treasury. Two hundred people were gathered around to hear him teach.
    Curious to know what he was saying, I was drawn toward him. Suddenly there was a commotion at the gate. Temple guards and Pharisees dragged Mary forward. She was weeping and clothed in her nightdress. I did not need to ask why she was being brought to this place of judgment. There was a blush of shame upon her cheeks and her bare shoulders. Her feet were bare and bloody, her hair unbound. They threw her to the pavement at the feet of Jesus.
    The rabbi leapt up and, in a posture of protection, stood between her and the men who shamed her and plotted her execution.
    With great effort she raised herself to her knees and crouched there. Her hair hung down, almost obscuring her face, but I saw her shoulders heave with sobs.
    I felt as though I would choke. My heart ached for the sister I had loved … whom I still loved. In that terrible moment, I remembered Mary as a child. Pretty. Sweet and innocent. Now here she was before a cadre of men with stones in their fists.
    Yet I made no move to protect her.
    A priest challenged Jesus, “ Rebbe! This woman was caught in the very act of adultery!”
    The crowd gasped. Jesus looked at Mary with compassion. He did not move from his place, physically shielding her from the stones in upraised fists.
    A second priest continued, “In our Torah, it is commanded that such a notorious woman be stoned to death so that we will put evil out of the house of Israel. What do you say about it?”
    I knew this trap was meant to discredit Jesus. The life or death of my sister was of no concern to the twelve priests who formed a circle around her and Jesus.
    If Jesus spoke for mercy, then he would be denounced as a false teacher and a breaker of the laws of Moses. But if he agreed with the sentence of death for Mary, then all his teaching about mercy would come to nothing.
    No one moved or spoke as the world hung on the reply that Jesus would give. What would the rabbi do? Would he discredit himself? Or condemn Mary?
    I saw Jesus scan the accusers. Who or what did he focus on? I could not tell. It occurred to me this might be the momentwhen he called upon his followers to turn on the Temple guards and fight. Perhaps Mary, who had caused so much unhappiness, would spark the beginning of rebellion.
    Then Jesus did something extraordinary. He gazed down at Mary for a long moment, then stooped beside her. His head was level with hers. If the judges threw the stones now, Jesus was as vulnerable as Mary. He would share her condemnation, take the stones that were aimed at her. The jagged rocks, meant to tear her to pieces, could not miss him.
    “What do you say, Rabbi? How do you answer the laws of Moses?”
    Unafraid, Jesus locked eyes with Mary. She studied him with wonder as he calmly smoothed the dust of the ground into an even surface.
    The frustrated challengers repeated their demand. “What do you say, Rabbi? Sin should be exposed and punished according to the law!”
    Jesus did not reply. Instead, he deliberately began to write Hebrew letters in the dust. The priests leaned forward to read what he wrote. And as the message became clear, they faltered and stepped back.
    Slowly, Jesus stood, careful to stand as shelter over Mary. He searched the faces of her accusers. Were they not also his accusers?
    “The one of you who is without sin,” Jesus said,