In my mind's eye I can see her. Her dark hair would have been ruffled; her clothes rumpled or missing, her face the color of sunset or perhaps as white as snow. I can imagine why she found herself in bed with that man-she needed the attention and physical comfort, she fancied herself in love, or perhaps she was striking out in anger against a husband she had grown to hate.
Motivation aside, being dragged literally out of bed, through the streets, and up the hill to the temple by those smug Pharisees must have been the most horrifying moment of her life. And one of the most public. All sin has an element of secret humiliation. All sin is a work of darkness, it shies from the harsh light of knowledge (John 3:19-21). We don't even talk to ourselves about the worst of it; we're too ashamed.
Standing there surrounded by the hundreds of people streaming through the temple, there was no secret to her sin. In this crowd, she couldn't have been more alone. Even her partner in this tango had abandoned her. She might well have stared at the ground rather than meet the eyes of her accusers.
We are her.
