Her master paced agitatedly just on the outskirts of the crowd, thought better of it, then ducked behind a sycamore tree, hoping to see but not be seen. ‘Why did the scribes and Pharisees have to pick on her of all people? Why couldn’t they have chosen some worthless scum like, like well, Marta, for example. She is old and bent over and no one wants to spend a night with her anymore anyways: might as well put her out on the streets.’
He peered around the tree, why is everyone so quiet? ‘I thought they would be stoning her by now and she would be screaming out and sobbing for mercy…What in the world? He is stooping down writing on the ground? What an odd rabbi.’
He tugged at his jet black beard agitatedly. ‘Something is definitely going on here that is strange.’ He inched a little closer, careful to keep concealed behind the billowing robes of the onlookers.
John and all the rest were edging away from the girl they had dragged in. They knew she committed adultery but now they were slinking off like beaten pups. The master was feeling increasingly uneasy. ‘Does that rabbi know what goes on under cover of darkness? Does he know how sinful these scribes and Pharisees really are?’
Suddenly he felt guilty also and found himself scurrying down the street, heedless of the other men also slinking away, heedless of the stares.
Christ came to seek and to save that which was lost. Reach out to Him.