My name is Miriam. I am a Jewish woman and an orphan. I have no family that I know of. I was an only child and both parents died of some disease that swept through Jerusalem 10 years ago. At this time in Israel that gives me the status of a slave or lower. I am rather beautiful even if I do say so myself. Lots of men have told me so as well because to survive I have become a prostitute.

I am not a street walker. I have found a niche market you might say. You see, there are quite a few of the Pharisees that are not as devout as they seem and I have proven to be very discrete. Because of my willingness to keep what happens in my bedroom in my bedroom I have built up a significant clientele. That is I had a nice clientele until a few months ago.

See, I do a lot for my customers almost anything they ask but there are limits. One night this young Pharisee who is a real social climber wanted to cross those boundaries and I refused. He begged, then, he threatened and I still refused. Then, he turned white, ashen really. His hands began to shake and just when I thought he was going to beat me, he simply turned and left my house. I knew I was in deep trouble. I figured that the next stop for me was the street since I was sure the young Pharisee would see to it that all his friends would stop visiting me.

But much to my surprise the next night a friend of the young one showed up and laid his money on my dresser. Everything progressed as usual and we were in bed when the door to my bedroom came crashing down and five other men rushed in with my young Pharisee in the lead. They dragged me from the bed and told me to get dressed while they watched of course. They, then, began to shove me out of the house and down the road. I knew where we were going. I know the law. In a matter of hours I would be dead, beaten beyond recognition by boulders as large as melons thrown by men all of whom I had serviced at one time or another. But instead of heading out of town they turned into town toward the center. They hauled me in front of an other man. He couldn’t have been much over thirty. I heard one of them address him as Jesus.

That is what finally broke me. I still had my spirit even looking death in the face but when I realized that they were using me as some kind of bait before they killed me, I completely gave up. I laid face down in the dirt at the feet of this other man. I really didn’t hear what was going on. There was some yelling and shouting but the one called Jesus didn’t say a word. He looked down and was writing on the ground with his finger. Then, everything got quiet and he spoke. “Let the one among you without sin throw the first stone.” More silence.

I don’t know how long it was after that, that he reached down and lifted me up to a sitting position. There are no words to describe his face. He was beaming, smiling so broadly I thought his face would crack. His eyes didn’t look through me as much as they penetrated me. I knew that he knew who and what I was but here is the strange part. I couldn’t put it into a coherent thought at first. He saw someone else. Someone I didn’t know and he was enjoying being with that person.

I swear there was a chuckle in his voice when he said, “Where have all the men gone, the ones who wanted to kill you?” I replied, “They are gone sir.” Then he took me by the hands lifted me up and looking me straight in the eyes said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.” That’s when I looked down and saw what he had written on the ground, “Miriam”. How did he know my name? When I looked up he was laughing and walking away and I was alone. I didn’t know what to do.

To Be Continued