And every one went to his home.
The council has just broken up in anger, unable to lay a hand on Jesus and unable to agree. This one quiet line records how the day ended: every leader had a house to go to, and the Son of God had none.
The officers sent to arrest Jesus came back empty-handed. Nicodemus's plea for a fair hearing earned him a sneer. Nothing was settled.
Where was the city that had killed the prophets, and was going to kill Him of whom all the prophets had spoken? Irritated at their powerlessness, being able to do nothing to hinder the testimony of Jesus, they disperse, and every one goes to his own house. His hour was not yet come.
Through this chapter the light grows brighter and the circle around Him grows smaller.
So the higher the truths that the Lord unfolds, the greater His rejection by the world, the fewer His followers, and the more solitary His path. At last we read, "They went each to his own house", and Jesus is left alone to go to the Mount of Olives.
The force of the sentence lies in a small word: own.
The opening is simply moving: "They went each to his own house" — none of them was without one. "But Jesus went to the Mount of Olives." Even now He is above them in glory, as He was then above them in conduct.
His homelessness was not only a lack of property. It was a lack of welcome — though one woman later opened her door to Him.
There was not a man in all the city of Jerusalem who said to Him at nightfall: "Sir, You are a stranger in the city, worn out from the work of the day. Come home with me and rest for the night." The mountain cave was His refuge, and the cold earth His bed. The men showed Him no hospitality. But there was a woman named Martha with a house not many miles away. When she came to know Him, she received Him into her house and served Him with devoted love!
The Mount of Olives was not a hiding place. It was where He met His Father, and He came back from it to serve.
"They went each to his own house, but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives" (John 7:53; John 8:1). Far from man's uncertainty and contempt, the Son of God withdrew to enjoy the fellowship of the Father. From there He returns for service.
That hill also carries a longer story than one night.
But each one goes away to his home. Jesus had no home until He went back to heaven, where He came from. He goes to the Mount of Olives — the witness of His agony, His ascension, and His return. He often visited it when at Jerusalem during the time of His ministry on earth.
He had nowhere to sleep. Yet He was never without rest.
There is not a person in Baltimore so poor that he does not have a pillow of some kind. It may hold nothing but straw, but he has a pillow. The blessed Saviour had nowhere to lay His head. The disciples could go to their homes, but "Jesus went to the Mount of Olives." In one sense He did have a good place to lay His head — the Father's bosom. But He loved your soul and mine, and travelled on to die upon the cross.
This verse opens the story of the woman caught in adultery, which runs to John 8:11. Many old manuscripts leave it out. The commentators quoted here defend it. One points to the blanks left in some copies:
Some copies leave a blank. That makes no sense unless the scribe knew a paragraph belonged there, but for reasons of his own thought fit to leave it out. Others moved it to another place, and even to another Gospel writer. Yet it is foreign in tone to all but John, and it suits no place in John but here, where the weight of authority puts it… The passage carries a positive weight of truth, and its fitness at this very point of the Gospel could never be explained if it were a forgery or a tradition.
Another points to why anyone would have removed it:
Everyone admits that this passage is missing from some very important manuscripts. But remember that the most ancient manuscripts go back no further than the time of Constantine. Augustine states plainly that it was left out "for fear of allowing immorality."
- Home — Every man in the room had one waiting; the Son of God had none.
- Homeless — He had no house because no door in Jerusalem opened to Him, though Martha's house later would.
- Hill — Olives meant fellowship with the Father, not escape. The same slope later saw His agony, His ascension, and His promised return.
- Held — Even without a pillow, He had the Father's bosom to rest on — and love for us carried Him on to the cross.
- Handed down — The verse opens a passage some manuscripts drop. The blanks in those copies show the scribes knew what they left out.
But Jesus went to the mount of Olives.
The seventh chapter ends with Jerusalem divided over Jesus. The crowd breaks up for the night, and this one line records where each side went. Everyone else had a house. He had a hillside.
This line finishes a scene that starts in the previous chapter. One writer even reads verse 1 as part of it. The officers he mentions had been sent to arrest Jesus, and Nicodemus was a member of the ruling council.
The first verse belongs to the preceding chapter. The officers returned without Him, bearing their testimony that "No one ever spoke like this man!" Nicodemus ventured his timid defence. Then every man went to his own house while the Lord went to the Mount of Olives.
That placing also fixes the timing of what follows. The events of the great day of the feast ended with the council scene, so the morning of verse 2 is a new day.
We have said that the events of the last day, the great day, of the feast of Tabernacles ended with that scene in the Sanhedrin... For we there read, "Every man went to his own house. Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. And early in the morning He came again into the Temple" (7:53 — 8:2). So what follows (8:1-11) took place on the following morning.
The force of the verse lies in the contrast. Each man in that crowd had a roof waiting for him; not one of those roofs was offered to Jesus.
The opening is deeply moving: "They went each to his own house" — not one of them was without a home. "But Jesus" was above them in glory even now, just as He was in His conduct, and He "went to the Mount of Olives."
Another writer draws out what the silence of the city meant in practice, and sets against it the one household that did open its door to Him.
Not one man in all the city of Jerusalem said to Him at nightfall, "Sir, You are a stranger here, and tired from the work of the day. Come home with me and rest for the night." The mountain cave was His shelter, and the cold earth His bed. The men showed Him no hospitality. But there was a woman named Martha who had a house not many miles away. When she came to know Him, she welcomed Him into her house and served Him with devoted love!
The hillside was more than shelter. What the city refused Him, His Father supplied.
Away from man's uncertainty and contempt, the Son of God retired to enjoy the fellowship of the Father. From there He returns for service.
One writer takes this as a pattern for prayer.
It would never do to be always before the eye of man. No creature could stand it. The Son of God Himself kept seeking the lonely place, away from the noise and bustle of the city. There He could have a quiet retreat for prayer and secret communion with God. "Jesus went to the Mount of Olives." "Rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, He departed and went out to a desolate place, and there He prayed."
The choice of this hill was no accident.
Jesus had no home until He went back to the heaven He came from. He goes to the Mount of Olives — the witness of His agony, His ascension, and His return. It was a place He often went to when He was at Jerusalem, during His ministry on earth.
Notice the seat He takes the next morning.
After the wonderful testimony of the seventh chapter, every man went to his own home, whatever his attitude to Christ. Jesus, left alone, goes off to the Mount of Olives. From there, early in the morning, He returns to the temple. The people gather round, and He sits among them as the Teacher. The time had not yet come for Christ to sit on His throne as the Judge.
The verse divides the city into two, and the reader has to decide where he stands.
Look at Him. Men did not recognise Him and did not want Him, yet the Father's love held Him up and comforted Him in His sorrows... So let us say which we would have chosen: a warm, sheltered night in one of those homes in Jerusalem that had no room for Christ, or the bleak hillside with Him?
- Refused — the verse closes a day of argument about Him; every man in Jerusalem had a house to go to, and no one offered Him one.
- Retired — the Mount of Olives was where He went, away from man's contempt, to enjoy fellowship with His Father. He went there often when He was in Jerusalem.
- Renewed — the night on the hillside was not escape but strength. From there He came back early to teach in the temple.
- Restrained — He came back to sit among the people as Teacher, because the hour to sit as Judge had not yet come.
- Remembered — that same mountain would see His agony, His ascension and His return. The question left with us is simple: the warm house, or the hillside with Him?
And early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came to him; and he sat down and taught them.
The feast is over, and Jesus has spent the night on the Mount of Olives. This short verse sets the stage for John 8: where He came from, the place He took, and why He answers as a teacher, not a judge.
The Saviour had no home of His own. Yet the temple was His by right, and He takes His seat there as usual.
In the morning the homeless Saviour took up again the place of real glory, though not of human glory — the place He would one day make into a house for Himself. And all the people came, and He sat down, as was His right and His custom, and taught them.
The night before was not empty time.
While others went to their homes, the Lord spent the night on the Mount of Olives, away from all the words and thoughts of men, in the calm of His Father's presence. He does not leave Jerusalem after the feast either, but comes early in the morning to teach the people.
Some have doubted whether this scene belongs in John's Gospel at all. The word John chooses for those who gathered is also worth noticing.
Luke records that the Lord often taught in the temple like this. That is a strange reason for doubting John's mention of this particular instance. There is also no reason to doubt this: those who flocked to the Lord's teaching in the temple were not merely "the crowd," but "the people" in a large sense.
He sits down. But the seat He takes is not a judge's bench.
Early in the morning He returns to the temple. The people gather round, and He sits among them as the Teacher. The time had not yet come for Christ to sit on His throne as the Judge.
Because He sits as Teacher, He deals first with the men who bring the charge, not with the woman they accuse.
He is plainly answering as a teacher, not as a judge… A judge in a given case has to do with the accused, not with the executioner… But if, as here, they appeal to Him as a teacher, He will answer as a teacher. And then His answer is very different. As Teacher He deals first with the men who appeal to Him, and not straight away with the accused… They wanted to show Him up as opposed to Moses. He makes them realise that He alone understands Moses. He uses the law on them for the purpose it was given for. He makes them feel the sharp edge of its condemnation of everyone, so that they may realise their need of the very grace they sneer at.
There is a reason this story stands at the head of the chapter.
The story is its own witness, in its matchless beauty and simplicity, and in its union of holiness and grace. It witnesses also by where it stands: at the opening of the chapter, as the key to what follows. In all this part of John the teaching grows out of a story — some miracle or telling event serves as the text of the sermon that follows. Take the story of the woman away, and you will not grasp the meaning of what is left in the same way at all. What remains is a broken statue with no head.
Some copies of John leave this story out. Which is easier to believe: that someone cut it, or that someone invented it?
We may well wonder that anyone could dare to cut up Scripture itself, as the manuscripts and versions show has happened here… We can in fact understand the motive for leaving out a story like this one. But who could imagine anyone bold enough to insert it where he did not find it? Or to manufacture so exquisite a piece of forgery as this would have to be?
- Night — He spent the hours on Olivet away from the words and thoughts of men, in the calm of His Father's presence.
- Morning — The homeless Saviour returns at dawn to the temple. He takes the place that was His by right and sits down to teach.
- People — Not a mere crowd, but the people in a large sense, come to Him in the temple.
- Seat — He sits as Teacher, not as Judge. That throne was still to come, so He answers as a teacher answers.
- Key — The story that follows is the doorway to the chapter. Take it away and what remains is a statue without a head.
And the scribes and the Pharisees bring [to him] a woman taken in adultery, and having set her in the midst,
Jesus is teaching a crowd when a group of religious leaders push through with a woman whose guilt is not in doubt. Their question is aimed at Him, not at her: why bring only the woman, and what will the light of Christ expose?
This story is not a random interruption. John places it here on purpose.
Next comes the story of the woman caught in adultery. In chapter after chapter, in the Gospel of John, the Spirit of God uses an incident to introduce some fresh truth. So in this chapter the story of the woman and her accusers introduces the great truth that Christ is the Light of the world. It shows the effect of the Light on all men.
Who were these accusers?
This is man at his best: he sees and hears Jesus, but refuses the grace and truth that came through Him. They were not ignorant men. They were learned in the Scriptures. They were not the crowd that did not know the law, but men with the highest reputation for religion. Nor could there be any question about the guilt and degradation of the woman... What deep wickedness was theirs! No horror at sin, even of the darkest kind, but a heartless use of the exposed adulteress to trap the Holy One of God.
The verse records where they put her: in the middle, in front of everyone. Why does that detail matter?
In reality, they were moved neither by hatred of the sin nor love for the sinner. They had very little respect for Moses and still less regard for the Lord's words. Their real motive was to find some cause of accusation against the Lord. With this evil purpose in view they set this guilty woman in the middle. They expose her to shame before "all the people" (verse 2). Then they invite the Lord to pass judgment on her.
Two questions hang over the verse: why bring the case to Jesus at all, and why is only one guilty party standing there?
They bring a woman who they say was caught in the act of adultery. They want Him to say whether He agrees or disagrees with the law of Moses (vv. 3-5). Either way they were ready to accuse Him. But since they were the rulers, why did they not judge the case themselves without referring it to Him? Also, the law said that both the woman and the man must be put to death for such sin (Deut. 22:22). Where was the man? In such cases men considered the woman's guilt greater than the man's. The Pharisees were willing to forget him!
She was the bait. The trap was the question they asked next.
The provocative question "Moses commanded us that such should be stoned: but what do you say?" (v.5) had been designed as a trap. If He argued for anything other than the death penalty, they would accuse Him at once. They would say He was encouraging others to break the law of Moses. But if He agreed with the deadly demand of the law, they would ask, "How then is your teaching any different? What about this grace you were going to bring?" It was a trap that left no way of escape... or so they thought.
Why were such respectable men so eager to condemn her?
People fix a standard of good that they can reach themselves, and a standard of evil that just excludes themselves and includes others... The scribes and Pharisees in this eighth chapter of John were very moral and religious people. They were deeply shocked when they found this wretched woman caught in such open sin, and very angry with her. Justice and the law of Moses, they thought, demand that she be made an example of. It is not right that such a sinner should live. It comforts and quiets the corrupt heart of man if he can only find someone worse than himself. He thinks another's greater sin excuses his own. While he accuses and fiercely blames another, he forgets his own evil.
Some Bibles mark this section off, because it is missing from certain manuscripts. Writers have answered the objections raised against it.
The Lord's habit in this respect, recorded by Luke (Luke 21:37-38; Luke 22:39), is a strange reason for discrediting John's mention of this particular occasion.
- Light. The story introduces Christ as the Light of the world. The woman and her accusers together show what that Light does to everyone it touches.
- Trap. They brought her as bait, not as a defendant: agree with stoning and He is no Saviour, refuse it and He breaks the law of Moses.
- Exposure. They set her "in the midst" before all the people to shame her — men moved neither by hatred of the sin nor love for the sinner.
- Silence. They produced only the woman, though the law named the man too — a selective use of Scripture that exposes the users.
- Mirror. Finding someone worse than yourself is a comfort the Light takes away. The sin you shout about in another is the one you forget in yourself.
they say to him, Teacher, this woman has been taken in the very act, committing adultery.
The scribes and Pharisees call Jesus "Teacher" and state their charge as a settled fact. It sounds like a request for a ruling. But why bring only the woman, and why bring her to Him at all?
These accusers knew the Scriptures well. The guilt they described was not in doubt. That mix is what makes the scene so grim.
These were not ignorant men, but men learned in the Scriptures. They were not part of the crowd that did not know the law, but held the highest reputation for religion. Nor could there be any question about the guilt and degradation of the woman. Why they brought her and not the man involved does not appear. But they brought her hoping not only to perplex the Lord, but to find grounds for accusing Him.
Their own case had a gap in it. If they wanted the law enforced, two people should have been standing there.
They were the rulers. So why did they not judge the case themselves, instead of bringing it to Him? The law had said that not only the woman, but the man also was to be put to death for such sin (Deut. 22:22). Where was the man? In such cases men considered the woman's guilt greater than the man's. The Pharisees were willing to forget him!
Notice what they did to her before they spoke. The public shaming shows what they cared about.
In reality, they were moved neither by hatred of the sin nor love for the sinner. They had very little respect for Moses and still less regard for the Lord's words. Their real motive was to find some cause of accusation against the Lord. With this evil purpose in view they set the guilty woman in the middle. They shamefully exposed her in front of "all the people" (verse 2). Then they invited the Lord to pass judgment on her.
The charge in verse 4 exists to set up the question in verse 5. Whichever way He answered, they had a ready accusation.
The starting point is the occasion where a woman is caught in adultery. The provocative question, "Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?" (v.5) had been designed as a trap. If He called for anything other than the death penalty, they would at once accuse Him of encouraging others to break the law of Moses. But if He simply agreed with the deadly requirements of the law, they would ask, "Then how is your teaching any different? What about this grace you were going to bring?" It was a trap with no way out — or so they thought.
He never lowered the law. He asked instead who was fit to use it, and that question searched everyone there.
See again how the Lord uses the law in the case of the woman taken in adultery (John 8). The Lord does not weaken the authority of the law. Instead He turns the light on them all. He tells them, "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her." They found they were in the presence of God. They went out one by one, admitting in practice that they had all sinned and were under the condemnation of the law.
Their sentence was correct. The problem was the hand that wanted to carry it out.
True, the sentence was just. The woman's guilt was proved, and the law was clear. But who was to carry out the law? Man may condemn, but who has the right to carry out the sentence? "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her." Who could say "without sin"? And if not one of them could say, "I am without sin," then every one of them was under the same sentence as the woman — death, for "the wages of sin is death." Here, then, was a strange situation. The accused and her accusers alike were caught in the same ruin — criminals, all of them. No longer "such should be stoned," but all should be stoned. From the oldest to the last, all convicted sinners.
- Charge — the guilt was real and public. The accusers were the most respected religious men there.
- Concealment — the law they quoted condemned the man too, and they quietly dropped him from the case.
- Motive — they had no hatred of the sin and no love for the sinner; the woman was bait for a charge against Christ.
- Trap — a merciful answer made Him a lawbreaker; a severe one emptied His grace. They saw no third road.
- Reversal — He upheld the law and turned its light on them. Accusers and accused ended on one level, all convicted.
Now in the law Moses has commanded us to stone such; thou therefore, what sayest thou?
The scribes and Pharisees put a woman caught in adultery in front of Jesus, quote the law of Moses at Him, and wait for His verdict. It sounds like a request for a ruling, but it is a trap, and the real subject is what men will do with God's law to catch the Son of God.
Their appeal to Moses was not a search for guidance. They built the question so that either answer would give them something to use against Him.
They designed the provocative question "Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?" (v.5) as a trap. If He argued for anything other than the death penalty, they would at once accuse Him of encouraging others to break the law of Moses. But if He agreed with the law's deadly demand, they would ask, "how is your teaching any different? What about this grace you were going to bring?" It was a trap with no way out — or so they thought.
The men quoting the law had little respect for it. Their handling of the woman gives them away.
In reality, they were moved neither by hatred of the sin nor love for the sinner. They had very little respect for Moses and still less regard for the Lord's words. Their real motive was to find some charge to bring against the Lord. With this evil purpose in mind they stand this guilty woman in the middle of the crowd, shame her in front of "all the people" (verse 2), and invite the Lord to pass judgment on her.
They say "Moses commanded us" — but the law they quote condemned two people, and they brought only one. Two questions expose them.
But since they were the rulers, why did they not judge the case themselves instead of bringing it to Him? What is more, the law said that the man must die for such sin as well as the woman (Deut. 22:22). Where was the man? In such cases men counted the woman's guilt as greater than the man's, and the Pharisees were willing to forget him!
Jesus never says the sentence is wrong. He asks instead who is fit to carry it out, and that turns the scene from the accused to the accusers.
No: He does not reverse Moses' sentence. Let it be carried out — only let the hands that carry it out be spotless. "Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her." The sentence of the law is right, yes! But on whom does that sentence really fall? Who will escape it, if it is applied strictly? Clearly He is answering as a teacher, not as a judge… They wanted to hold Him up as an opponent of Moses. He makes them see that He alone understands Moses. He uses the law on them for the very purpose it was given: to make them feel its sharp edge of condemnation on everyone, so that they may see their need of the grace they sneer at.
Before He speaks, He stoops and writes in the dust. Commentators link that hand to the hand that engraved the commandments Moses received.
He was silent, stooped down, and wrote with His finger in the ground… This is the only time we read of our Lord writing. The finger that wrote in the ground was the same finger that had written the law on the tablets of stone. What He wrote we do not know, but it was a picture: the law against man is written in the dust, the dust of death. The woman was not the only one who deserved death; all were just as guilty… He did not set the law aside, and yet He showed His marvelous grace.
If the outcome they demanded was the right one, nothing new had arrived in the world. That is the point on which the trap collapses.
No answer, no sentence, no executioner — not a single stone of judgment. How was this? Was she not a sinner? Yes, a flagrant one. Was not the law against her? No doubt. How was it then? Jesus was there — the divine embodiment of "grace and truth," and He was not going to stone a poor convicted sinner. He had not left that bright and blessed world above for such a purpose. If it were only a question of stoning the sinner, Moses could have managed that. There was no need for Moses' Master to come down into this world to do that.
- Trap — The question left two exits, both fatal. Rule against stoning and He breaks Moses. Rule for it and His grace means nothing.
- Motive — The men quoting the law neither hated the sin nor loved the sinner. They wanted a charge against Jesus, and used a woman to get it.
- Half-quoted — Their own law sentenced the man too. They were the rulers and could have judged the case themselves. They came for Jesus, not for justice.
- Turned — He never reverses the sentence. He asks only for spotless hands to carry it out — and the law's edge lands on the accusers.
- Reason — Stoning a sinner needed no one greater than Moses. He came for what Moses could not do.
But this they said proving him, that they might have [something] to accuse him [of]. But Jesus, having stooped down, wrote with his finger on the ground.
Two verses earlier the accusers turned the scene into a courtroom, and the real defendant is not the woman but Jesus. He gives no answer at all — He bends down and writes in the dust, and readers have asked ever since what that silent act meant.
The words "to test him" tell us the question was never sincere. Either answer would cost Him something.
The provocative question "Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?" had been designed as a trap. If He argued for anything other than the death penalty, they would at once accuse Him of encouraging people to break the law of Moses. But if He agreed to the deadly demands of the law, they would ask, "How does your teaching differ? What about this grace you were going to bring?" It was a trap that left no way of escape... or so they thought.
These were not ignorant people acting on impulse.
They were not ignorant men. They knew the Scriptures well. They were not part of the crowd that did not know the law, but men with the highest reputation for religion. Nor could there be any question about the guilt and degradation of the woman. Why they brought her, and not the man with her, does not appear. But they brought her hoping not only to perplex the Lord, but to find grounds to accuse Him... What deep wickedness was theirs! No horror at sin, even of the darkest kind, but a heartless use of the exposed adulteress to entrap the Holy One of God.
This is the only place in the Bible where Jesus writes anything. One writer also notes a translation detail: some older Bibles add words here in italics that the original text does not have.
He was silent and stooped down and wrote with His finger in the ground. (The words "as though He heard them not" are in italics and must be omitted.) It is the only time we read of our Lord that He wrote. The finger writing in the ground was the same finger that had written the law on the tablets of stone. What He wrote we do not know. But it was a symbol: the law against man is written in the dust, the dust of death. Not only the woman deserved death — all were equally guilty.
What God writes on carries meaning too. One writer sets three surfaces side by side.
The same finger had written a sentence of doom against a proud Gentile kingdom in the days of Daniel, on the plaster of the wall. The writing surfaces are striking. The unbending law was written on unbending stone. So the man who despised Moses' law "died without mercy," since the law cannot be bent the way rubber is bent. Plaster crumbles and breaks easily, like the strongest and proudest human kingdoms. Jesus wrote on the ground. What He wrote there we are not told. But we do know that He was going into "the dust of death" (Psalm 22:15), where He wrote a full declaration of the love of God.
The irony deepens when you notice whose finger touches the ground.
They had accused the sinner and were eager to accuse the Savior, but He makes them accuse themselves... There was the great Lawgiver Himself, the very One whose finger had written the first set of tablets. How little they knew this! They were quoting the law against a fellow sinner to find something against the Lawgiver. What a position for men to find themselves in! In the presence of the Lawgiver, quoting the law, themselves guilty before Him!
Commentators differ on what the pause was for. One reads it as time offered to their consciences.
But if the Lord wrote on the ground, it was in no way as if He did not hear them. Instead, it gave them time to weigh their guilty question and their even guiltier motive. Meanwhile their hope of trapping Him betrayed them more and more, and committed them further as He stooped to the ground.
Another takes the same act as a refusal to treat their question seriously.
The writing on the ground was in a way a dignified contempt of their hypocrisy.
Whatever the letters were, several writers see the act itself as the message — the contrast between the two things that same finger has written.
The finger that once wrote the words of the law on the tablets of stone was now writing something else, something of a very different character in this world, for with the finger of a Man the Son of God was writing before the eyes of men the wonders of the rich, heavenly grace of God.
- The trap. They built the question so that either answer condemned Him: back the stoning and lose His grace, refuse it and stand against Moses.
- The trappers. These were the most respected religious men there. They showed no horror at the sin and no pity for the sinner — the woman was only their tool.
- The finger. The hand writing in the dust wrote the law on stone. Without knowing it, they were quoting the Lawgiver's own words against Him.
- The surface. Stone cannot bend. Plaster crumbles. Dust is where He Himself was heading — into "the dust of death," where He wrote out the love of God in full.
- The silence. Perhaps it gave their consciences time to work. Perhaps it refused their hypocrisy an answer. Either way, His stooping did what stones could not: it left every accuser exposed.
But when they continued asking him, he lifted himself up and said to them, Let him that is without sin among you first cast the stone at her.
The scribes and Pharisees bring a woman caught in adultery to Jesus and demand a ruling, sure that the law has trapped Him. His answer turns the case around: instead of arguing the law, He asks who is fit to carry it out.
They built the question so that either answer would destroy Him.
The starting point is the occasion where a woman is caught in adultery. They had set the provocative question "Moses commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what do you say?" (v.5) as a trap. If He argued for anything other than the death penalty, they would at once accuse Him of encouraging others to break the law of Moses. But if He agreed with the law's deadly demands, they would ask, "How does your teaching differ? What about this grace you were going to bring?" It was a trap that left no way of escape… or so they thought.
Their handling of the case shows what they were after.
They show no holy hatred of the evil, and they certainly feel no pity for the sinner… They hoped to trap Christ and leave Him only a choice between two hard options: either a useless repeat of the law of Moses, or open opposition to the law.
His reply does not weaken Moses. It grants the law full force and then turns it on the men holding the stones.
First, the Lord maintains the authority of the law to which these men have appealed. Let it be carried out. But those who carry out the law must make sure the law does not condemn them too. "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her."
The question is no longer whether the sentence is right. It is who has the standing to carry it out.
True, the sentence was just, no one doubted the woman's guilt, and the law was clear. But who was to carry out the law? Man may easily condemn, but who has a right to carry out the sentence?… if not one of them could say, "I am without sin," then every one of them was under the same sentence as the woman. That sentence was death, for "the wages of sin is death." Here, then, was a strange situation: the accused and her accusers were alike caught in the same ruin — criminals all.
They wanted Him seated as judge. He refuses, and His reason goes back to why He came.
They were determined to have an answer, and truly He let them have one. If they were going to put Him in the judgment seat before the time, He would have to judge everyone. He could not give a partial judgment. He could not judge one and let another pass. In fact, He judged no man. The object of His blessed mission to a world of sinners was not judgment but salvation. He came not to cast a stone at a poor guilty sinner.
Grace is present in this scene. But one writer names something else as its main lesson.
This history is not so much an example of grace, though grace is here, of course. It shows Christ as the light, and the light brings conviction to the conscience.
Conviction reached these men. It did not change them.
In this case conscience is reached, but the will stays unchanged. So they "went out one by one, beginning with the older ones". The one with the most sins on his account goes out first; the others follow. They cannot endure the light that exposes their sin; they will not have the grace that could meet their sin. They leave the light of His presence to walk in the darkness of the world.
Every accuser has walked out. The woman is left in front of the one Person who could have thrown the stone.
She was standing before One who could say "without sin," and who therefore could cast the stone… She was alone with One who had the power of life and death. Everything rested on His word. What would He say? Man had not dared to cast the stone; now what would God do? "Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more."
- Trap — Either answer was meant to ruin Him: deny Moses, or deny the grace He taught.
- Test — He leaves the law standing at full strength and asks who is clean enough to enforce it.
- Light — His words shine light on the conscience. The accusers walk out one by one instead of standing exposed.
- Refusal — Seated as judge He would have had to judge everyone present; He came to save, not to throw stones.
- Alone — The only Person entitled to throw the first stone is the one who says, "Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more."
And again stooping down he wrote on the ground.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
But they, having heard [that], went out one by one beginning from the elder ones until the last; and Jesus was left alone and the woman standing there.
Her accusers came holding a guilty woman and a clear law, hoping to put Jesus in an impossible position. One sentence from Him emptied the courtyard. Why did the men most sure of the law walk away without using it?
He answered with few words, then gave them time to feel them.
The first act allows the full wickedness of their aim to come out. They hoped, no doubt, it might be an impossible difficulty for Him. They kept asking. So He lifted Himself up and spoke those memorable words. Then He stooped down again, so that they might weigh them in their consciences. It was the light of God cast on their thoughts, words, and life. The words were few, simple, and self-evidencing... The effect was immediate and complete. His words penetrated to the heart. Why did not some of the witnesses rise and do the duty? What! not one?
Jesus never set the law aside. He required that the men enforcing it be clear of it themselves.
They might indeed have carried out the law about the woman's particular sin. But in the presence of Christ — the Light — they discover that the law is a sword that cuts those who use it. The very law by which they sought to condemn the woman condemns them. It proves that all are sinners, and by it every mouth is stopped. So the Lord's words reach each conscience, convict each one of being a sinner, and silence every mouth.
The verse notes who left first. Shame, not law, set the order.
Shame covered them. So the eldest went out first, hoping to hide. The greater the accusation of self-righteousness, the greater the shame when the heart is opened and the hard veil of pride comes off. The Lord's presence will soon take that veil off. They would have applied the law. But they could not stand the light of God let into their consciences, not even for a moment. It was not only this one sin. His word was, "him who is without sin." No sin is allowed or can stand in that light.
They came in as a group. They left one at a time.
"They went out," not in a crowd, but "one by one." Conscience is an individual thing. Had they stayed, they would have had to strip off their cloaks and cry out, "Just as I am without one plea." For this they were not ready. They were completely confounded and went about their business. The Light of the world was shining in the full brightness of His heavenly beams. These men, wrapped up in their cloaks, could not endure it. So they went out and left the poor sinner alone with Jesus.
Conviction reached them, but it did not turn them to God. The older translation quoted below also says they were "convicted in their own consciences" — words the ESV leaves out.
"Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her" had been like a flash of lightning. It showed them their own condition. They were "convicted in their own consciences." But a convicted conscience does not always lead to self-judgment or to God. They "went away one by one, beginning with the older ones," and left the sinner in the only safe place for a sinner — in the presence of the sinner's Saviour. Her own covering was completely gone. She had no character or respectability left to keep up, so she could stay.
Another writer calls this a flight from grace, and says people still do it.
One by one they went away from grace, because they dreaded the eye that could detect them. That is what people do still — they cannot bear conviction... What a terrible thing that is, if your only hope of comfort is to keep away from God — to keep out of His sight!
The accusers were gone. The only person with the right to throw a stone stayed.
Here "Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him"; yet it was not the hour of judgment but of grace. So the One who had the right to condemn did not use it. He was "full of grace and truth." He turned the searchlight of truth on the hypocrites, and gave grace to the sinner, with the aim of freeing her from her sin.
- Light comes in. One sentence from Jesus cast the light of God on their thoughts, words and lives, and it reached the heart at once.
- Light convicts. The law they aimed at the woman cut the hands that held it, proving all are sinners and stopping every mouth.
- Light strips pride. The eldest went first: the more self-righteousness a man carries, the more shame when the veil of pride comes off.
- Light is personal. They left one by one, because conscience is an individual thing — no one can hide inside a crowd.
- Light drives out or draws in. A convicted conscience does not always lead to God. They fled the one safe place for a sinner. The woman stayed there — alone with the One who had every right to condemn her, and would not.
And Jesus, lifting himself up and seeing no one but the woman, said to her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? Has no one condemned thee?
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And she said, No one, sir. And Jesus said to her, Neither do I condemn thee go, and sin no more.
Two people are left in the temple court. One is a woman caught in adultery. The other is the only man there who could have thrown the first stone without hypocrisy. What He says to her raises two questions. On what ground can guilt go free? And what does a forgiven sinner do next?
Her accusers had walked out because the light exposed them. This is not a case dropped for lack of witnesses. The Judge Himself was still standing there when the last accuser left.
So He sends her away. And how much more it means, coming from Him who could have condemned her, had He wished to or had He come for that! This was no condemnation, and it came from the One from whom condemnation could come. He alone had the right to condemn.
Grace and holiness are not in competition here. Both shine in the same words.
Who but He could say "Neither do I condemn you"! Infinite grace and perfect holiness are both seen in Christ. "Go, and from now on sin no more."
Commentators differ over how much she received. Some point to what He does not say to her.
Here the Lord is acting as light. Therefore, instead of saying, "Your sins are forgiven," He asks, "Woman, where are your accusers? Has no one condemned you?" … It is not pardon, nor mercy, but light. "Go, and sin no more" — not, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."
Others see her standing still before Him as the answer of faith. On that reading He is free to forgive, because the light has already done its work in her.
How will the Lord preserve His grace and maintain His holiness? If He acquits her, His holiness is ignored; if He condemns her, what becomes of His grace? … On His part, He is free to forgive one who has been brought into the light and has taken her true place before Him in repentance.
The Pharisees heard the same voice that day and left with nothing. What separated them from her was not the size of their sin but their unwillingness to stand where she stood.
But this word is only for the ruined sinner who stands before the Judge, knowing he is guilty. The righteous Pharisees did not hear it. They were convicted too. But they did not want to confess their sin. They tried to shake off their convictions and bury them under some good works of their own… If you want God's full and free pardon, you must first take the place of the guilty sinner. Be alone with Jesus, self-condemned and knowing it. Do not make resolutions to do better. Do not try to improve before you come to Him. Let your very sins bring you to Him.
The command that follows is not a condition she must meet to keep her freedom. The order runs the other way, and that order is the whole point.
Holiness is found here in its true relation and due order: no condemnation leading on to no more sin. Grace and not law is the power for holiness.
The same order holds for every reader, not only for her.
Never forget it. An unbreakable link binds these two sayings together: "No condemnation" and "Sin no more." Grace shines in the one; holiness breathes in the other.
Her freedom raises one more question. She is told to go — but where?
The shadow of condemnation is lifted — but where is she to go? The verses that follow may not apply strictly to this incident, but their moral teaching is of the utmost importance: "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." The path of freedom is a path lit up with the glory of Christ, and on such a path we find liberty in the service of God.
She walked out with one thing only, and it was enough.
But let us carefully note the authority on which the woman knew she was not condemned. What was it? Simply the word of Jesus. She knew it because He said it. Blessed authority — nothing like it, none other but it. Christ's work is the basis, His word the authority. How simple! How solid! How satisfactory!
- Convicted. Only those who own their guilt hear this word. The accusers felt it too, but walked out rather than stand where she stood.
- Uncondemned. The one voice that could have condemned her chose not to. This is mercy from the Judge, not a legal loophole.
- Sent. "No condemnation" and "sin no more" are one sentence, not two. Grace, not law, is the power that produces holiness.
- Lit. Freedom is not an empty space but a road. The path away from condemnation is lit by the glory of Christ.
- Assured. Her whole standing rested on what Jesus said. His work is the basis; His word is the authority.