Adena (a rough draft)

The intangible shafts of sunlight were creeping in through the window when she opened her eyes. As she began to gain awareness of her surroundings, she watched them create shadows on the wall next to her bed. Back and forth they shifted, dancing in almost-waltz-like movements. Their shadows were a couple, taken up in the moment. She could almost hear the music enlivening their steps. They beckoned her to rise, awaken and join the dance.

And then in moments, the dream-world was shattered by the sudden recollection of the previous night. Without sitting up, she turned her head to see if he still lay beside her. But all he left behind was the impression of his head on the pillow and a few golden coins in his place glimmering in the sunlight. She glanced back at the wall, hoping the waltzing shadows would revive her sense of peace, but the guilt overwhelmed the imagined.

No, she would not listen to it.

She quickly rose from her slumberous state and robed herself, slipping her feet into the hardened sandals that waited for her beside the bed. With a quick flick of her wrist, her ebony hair gathered in an elegant fashion atop her head, a few strands left to frame her golden face. The shadows were left to their dancing as she departed the room to find something to eat.

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The village had aroused with the sunrise, children already plaguing the streets with their yells and playful bantering. The crowds meandered along, purposeless and ambling about, as if still trying to wake up. The air was filled with the babble of conversation as Adena strode amongst them.

Adena never wandered. Her gait was confident, her jewels sparkling in the sunlight, her head carried high. She often caused the eyes of the loiterers to rise. She was impressive.

“Salut, Simeon! How is your crop faring these days? Harvest was good this year?” She stopped to greet a young man wiping the early morning sweat from his brow as he placed a few more bananas atop the already overflowing pile.

“Salut, Adena, and good morning!” He turned his head towards her with a smile. “I have yet to serve you the best of my crop.” He grinned knowingly. “I have not seen you all year. Where have you been?”

Adena leaned over, pretending to inspect his fruit. “Oh, I’ve been out and about.” She replied.

He bent down and scuffled about for a moment underneath his stand before standing up again, a ripe banana in hand. “Here – I’ve been saving it just for you.” There was a twinkle in his eyes.

“Why thank you, Simeon. You are too kind.” She peeled away its skin and began to eat as Simeon began to tell her about the recent happenings of his family. Adena found her thoughts wandering as she tried to enjoy the luscious fruit. Its sweetness was dull to her taste this morning, she did not know why.

“And so she’s married now!” Simeon’s voice drew her thoughts back to the conversation.

“Married! So young. They marry them off so young these days.” Adena replied calmly.
Simeon said nothing.

As another customer approached the stand, Adena gracefully nodded her goodbye, waving the half-eaten banana in her hand once to indicate her gratitude for the free bounty.

As she continued down the crowded street, the memory of Simeon’s peering, yet innocent eyes lingered. He so enamored with his own sister’s recent marriage, probably himself longing to experience the pleasures and joys that such a blessing offered a man. She wandered what it would be like to not know.

And then, again, the previous night’s passions were brought to mind, conquering the self-doubts almost immediately. Surely her path was better. The pleasures were rich, satisfying. She had love every day. Simeon had several more years of waiting to have what she possessed. And then just as suddenly, the image of the empty pillow seared across her mind. She picked up her step, rounding a corner to the dust-laden, dilapidated structure, teeming with gowned women like herself. She tossed the banana peel in the street gutter as she entered the building. The gaze of Simeon into her soul faded at the door.

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The women boasted of their previous evening’s pleasures amongst themselves. Adena rested against the wall, taking a strand of her thick hair and twisting it about in her finger as she listened. As the morning drew on, their talk began to feel bitter as they mocked and cackled at one another. Then out of nowhere, the emptiness of their conversation suddenly struck her soul like a sharp sword. There it was, a piercing dagger, the fear, shame and guilt rising within her. It was almost overbearing, coming out of nowhere, and shattering any sense of safety or freedom she felt there in the safe house.

Picking up the edge of her robes, she rushed outside, out of the shadows, kicking up dust beneath her as she pushed through the women crowding the doorway. She stood for a moment, allowing the blinding light to awaken her senses and shatter the fear that had sent her heart racing. This time her mind could not ignore it. What had caused this sudden doubt? She’d lived this life for years and never had the guilt so overcome her as it had this moment. Then she heard it, only an echo, yet the weightiness of the child’s words calling out in the street settled over her soul for a moment: “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” Then, like a dust cloud that vanishes with a gust of wind, the guilt lifted, was quenched, and her heart crusted back over.

Adena put her hands to her hips, looking about her, as if suddenly conscious of her surroundings. She heard the laughter of the women at the doorway and became aware that it was directed at her.

“Adena, did your lover call you back to himself in broad daylight?” Irritating, grating laughter ensued.

Adena turned back and pushed her way inside, commenting as she entered, “Only because I am more beautiful than you.”

When the afternoon sun gave word to the hour of the day, Adena rose once again from her stationary place in the safe house to meet her next appointment. Before stepping outside, she glanced in at her reflection in the water basin by the door, scooping her drooping hair into a tighter bun, and brushing away the layer of dust on her forehead from where she’d leaned against the wall to rest earlier. She must be sure to look her best for this one. He was a man highly respected in the community, and if she pleased him, he would pay well.

She looked both ways up the street, the recollection of the child’s voice giving her caution to her choice of path to take. Even though she felt no guilt, it had left a raw and bleeding wound that she’d only managed to bandage up. But no one was in sight, save the cat rubbing its back against the dirt wall of the building next to the safe house.

Adena did not notice her pace now bore a sullen weightiness.

Quickly she strode up through the curves of the road, in the alley ways between houses, past the synagogue and into the wealthier part of town. The homes here were larger, with more distance in between them, and some with servants tending to gardens or drawing water from personally-owned wells in the front. Others possessed shade-offering olive and palm trees, a welcome sight to all passer-byers in the heat of the day. At long last, she arrived at the doorstep. She sucked in her breath and gently called out in greeting. A servant, clad in an apron-like robe, answered the door.

“He is waiting for you.”

She was led through the courtyard and sitting area into the bedroom toward the back of the house. When the door shut behind her, she left her conscience outside.

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From all appearances, things were going well – he seemed to be well-pleased with her - until the moment that they paused from their pleasure to take refreshment from the water in the jars on the table-side.

The door opened with a loud clamor as it struck against the wall, and suddenly the room was flooded with white-garmented men, raising a ruckus with their voices of accusations.

“Whore!” They cried out, dragging her from the bed. “And with a governor!”

It made no difference to them that the governor had asked her to come. She was the woman, therefore the only guilty party involved. Her partner sat on the bedside watching as she was hauled out into the open air, her naked body exposed for all to see.

And there were many outside gathered to watch what this parade of Pharisees would drag out of the household. Tears began to stream down her face as she gained sense of the full weight of her humiliation. Could it be – was that Simeon there, in the crowd – staring in disbelief of her defenseless shame? She looked away from his piercing gaze as she was thrown in the center of the multitude. The masses closed in around her, a few tossed a small pebble in her direction.

“Whore! Adultress! Banish her, stone her!” They cried with a loud shout in unison.

Adena could only hold herself in a small bundle, in a vain attempt to hide her bareness. But there was no hiding out here. That wound which she had managed to bandage up had re-opened with a full thrust of shame. There was no one here to rescue her, she had no hope. She knew it could only be a matter of time before she would have to meet death face to face. The confidence she’d clung to just hours before had evaporated like a drop of water disappears into the thirsty ground of the desert dunes. Now she had not even a robe or gown to shield herself from the shame. She lay, her very soul exposed, naked, alone. She was at the mercy of the condemning crowd.

And then the ranting was silenced. Someone had stepped into the center of the circle.

Adena was afraid to look up. Was this the high priest, here to announce the final judgment? She groped about in her heart, seeking for something, anything to find hope in. But she was not just empty of strength, she was overcome with condemning guilt.

Her tear-fogged vision caught glimpse of two feet clad in sandals in front of her, a darker, fading robe resting at the ankles. She turned her gaze to the ground awaiting the verdict.

A yelp of a dog being kicked aside from the crowd disrupted the silence.

Adena noticed nothing had been spoken. When she lifted her eyes, her vision became filled with sight of the robes of the back of a man, hunched over, his gown bundled on the ground as he pushed the dust about in lines and circles.

Someone kicked a pebble in their direction and timidly spoke, “Teacher, the law of Moses commands us to stone such a woman. What do you say?”

Adena again returned her eyes to the dust, the burden of her guilt bearing on her like a stack of bricks. She knew she had sinned. She knew now what she deserved. She didn’t want to face it, but she could hide no longer.

But the teacher did not respond.

Someone asked again, “Rabbi! What do you say to this? We are commanded!” Another stone, larger this time, smacked Adena’s shoulder.

The teacher rose from his position on the ground. His voice seemed to hold sway over not just the crowds, but the vultures and ravens that had been floating about in the air above them, the slight breeze sweeping over them, the very earth beneath her. Even the throbbing pain in her shoulder began to fade.

“Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.”

At his words, an almost unnoticeable glimmer of hope entered her soul. He had not condemned?

The stillness resided deeper than just the air or aura of the crowd. She dared not look up, lest her hopes be dashed by a stone being thrown in her direction.

She waited.

And then the shuffle of feet, at first, just one, then it grew as more and more slinked off away from the scene. She could hear, but she could not bear to look up. Even as the multitude began to disappear, her shame and guilt began creeping back up to cloud what little hope this man had offered her. For there was something about him. He was so blindingly pure, perhaps he had only dismissed the crowd so that he could be the one to stone her.

At long last, when the village sounds had picked up their normal pace again, and the birds overhead had dissipated, she summoned up her last ounce of courage that had been planted by the seed of hope given by this man’s words. She raised her eyes, again, expecting to meet a condemning stare.

Even as she began to lift her head, a weathered, calloused hand gently gripped her muddy chin and raised it up. What she saw instead was a gaze so filled with love and compassion and forgiveness, she was almost in disbelief. But when her heart began to soar at one look into his eyes, she knew. The shame, the guilt, the fear – it had banished as if it’d never existed. In its place resided life so vibrant and full of command – she had forgotten what life tasted of.

And she stood. She had no consciousness of her nakedness before him.

“Woman.” Now he softly spoke. “Where are they?”

She beheld him, this man so full of beauty and purity and power. She said nothing.

“Has no one condemned you?” He continued.

There was no shame in her voice when she replied. Only awe, worship, adoration. “No one, my Lord.”

They stood together in silence, reveling in the moment, savoring its sweetness and goodness.

Then he said, “Neither do I condemn you.” At those words, whatever remaining tendrils of darkness were cast away from her forever. She knelt at his feet and wept, her tears washing the dust away in streams down the street. It seemed as if they had together entered the very throne room of the heaven, tasting of an eternal glory her soul had never known before.

At long last, his gentled hands raised her up on her feet once again. Filled with love and yet unrelenting authority, he held her shoulders and spoke, “Woman, go. And sin no more.”