Uncomfortable Mercy: Homily for the 5th Sunday of Lent 2025

5th Sunday of Lent, C                                                                                      April 6, 2025
Fr. Alexander Albert                                                               St. Mary Magdalen, Abbeville

Let’s talk a little inside baseball on scripture today. You see, most scripture scholars think this story of the woman caught in adultery was not originally in John’s Gospel. Why? Because it isn’t in some of the oldest copies of the bible we have, from around 400 A.D. Where it does show up, it’s in different places or in another gospel, which kind of gives the impression that people who added it in later on didn’t know where to put it.

Okay, well, if it isn’t originally part of John’s gospel, should we treat it as real scripture? Yes. Why? For the same reason that Catholics consider anything scripture: because the Church says it is. There are a lot of ancient books and scrolls that claim to be scripture, “gospels” of Mary Magdalen or Thomas or Judas or whoever else. Who decided which ones were real and which ones weren’t? The Church did. By the time the Council of Trent happens in the 1500s, this story was included in John’s Gospel in the Vulgate, which was the official version of the bible that the Council said should be accepted by Catholics. Add in the fact that we’ve been reading this passage at Mass for a very long time, and it seems clear that the Church considers it a true story of Jesus that belongs in the Gospels, even if it was written by someone other than John.

Now, if you want a reason to think John did write it, let me offer this: Jesus wrote on the ground with his finger. It’s an odd detail, sure, but why does that matter? Because it’s exactly the kind of thing the Apostle John would include. If you or I made up this story, would you mention that detail but not tell readers what he wrote on the ground? I doubt it. So, why doesn’t John tells us what Jesus wrote? Probably because he didn’t see it. So, why mention that he wrote anything? Because that’s what he saw. John often includes details like that. Look at John chapter 1, which tells us how two disciples followed Jesus and then includes the random fact that it was 4 in the afternoon. Why? Because it was. Go to John chapter 20, when Peter and John run to see the empty tomb. John includes the detail, “the cloth that had covered his head, not with the burial cloths but rolled up in a separate place.” Why? Because it’s what he saw. John was an eyewitness to Jesus’ life; often, he just included whatever he saw and did not include things he didn’t see. So, it kinda looks like John saw Jesus write in the dirt, but not what he wrote there, so that’s what John tells us.

If you’re into those more scholarly and historical debates, there’s a lot more to look at. What we should focus on now, however, is why some people want to prove it isn’t scripture. That should be obvious: it’s difficult to accept. Even for Jesus, this seems a bit too lenient. Does the women ever even apologize? Not that we can see, yet Jesus protects her and tells her to go on her way. There were people in the early church who were worried that this passage would cause women to think they could get away with adultery. St. Augustine, who lived around 400 A.D., actually tells us that the reason some bibles from that time period are missing the story is that people who didn’t like it took it out. He said it should be put back and, eventually, it was.

Still, Jesus does not say this woman’s sin is “okay” or “no big deal.” He does not say, “adultery is no longer a sin.” He does not say, “she’s innocent.” He says “neither do I condemn you,” not, “I can’t condemn you.” The implication is that Jesus could have condemned her if he wanted to. There’s a real sin here, one that deserves death. But, Jesus is God and it was God who commanded the death penalty for adultery in the Old Testament. As God, Jesus has the right to grant a stay of execution, to show mercy. So, he uses that right.

But is she sorry? Does she actually want mercy? Yeah, probably! She is on the verge of being killed in broad daylight. Also, remember that Jesus can read hearts and know others’ thoughts. He knows whether or not she is sorry, whether or not she is willing to repent. So, when he tells her “go, and from now on do not sin any more,” it means he must know she is willing to turn away from sin.

Now, for most of us, this kind of thing isn’t exactly part of our experience. Most people at a Sunday Mass have never been face-to-face with the possibility of being put to death for their sins. I certainly haven’t. On balance, for most of my life, I’ve been much more likely to be like the rest of the crowd, thinking this sinful woman is about to get what she deserves. Really, she does deserve it and God did once tell his people to execute adulterers. So why does God back down now? Because he wants us to understand that we all deserve death.

The wages of sin – all sin – is death. Think about the fact that Original Sin, the sin that doomed the entire race to death, was when Adam and Eve ate a piece of fruit! Even if that’s partly symbolic, there’s a reason that scripture gives uses that rather innocuous image of the first sin. Why? Because it stresses the fact that it’s the disobedience and price that matters most. Yes, some sins are worse than others, but every sin is disobedience and pride. If we disobey and reject the very source of our life, then we deserve death.

This passage got cut out because it has always made people uncomfortable. We think it makes us uncomfortable because we don’t want people to sin. Maybe that’s the truth. Or maybe it’s because we’re not as righteous as we think. Maybe, deep down, we realize that Jesus equates our sin with her sin and that makes us uncomfortable. By asking for those without sin to cast the first stone, he’s implying we deserve death like this adulteress, that we’re just like her. It’s sooo much easier to feel good about ourselves and our holiness when we have those people over there whose sins are obviously much worse than ours. But if Jesus is saying we need his mercy just as much as those terrible people… well, that’s uncomfortable. We’d rather that not be true. And, well, it would probably be easier if we just didn’t keep telling this story.

But we do tell it, and it is true, and it is scripture. We’re right to notice that Jesus says “do not sin anymore.” The message definitely isn’t “keep sinning and we’ll all still be fine.” If I were talking to hardened sinners who avoid Jesus, I’d probably focus on that misconception. But I’m talking to you – and to myself. We so often jump too quickly to “do not sin any more,” skipping right over the hard part of “neither do I condemn you.” We want to focus on what sinners need to change – and they do need to change! – but that’s shifting the burden. They need to stop sinning, but what is my responsibility? Repenting of my sins. And how do I treat other sinners? With the same mercy I have received. It’s that showing mercy part, that “neither do I condemn you” part that we need to spend more time with.

Lent is almost over. It’s 12 days until we kill Jesus with our sins and hear him pray for our forgiveness while we do it. It’s time… past time, that we stop hiding behind smart-sounding excuses to punish the faults of others, thinking we deserve the mercy we don’t give to them.

Try this instead: Would you die for the sins of another? Die for the worst sinner you can imagine? Until you’re sure of that answer, maybe be careful about how quick you are to throw stones at those for whom Jesus has already died. Because he did die for us. He does have the right to cast the first stone at you and me. But what did he do with that stone? Left it on the ground, forgotten like the words he wrote there but no one  ever saw.

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