IT MAY BE NOTICED, if one
cares to observe people closely, that the most compassionate and merciful
persons to those who have fallen into such mortal sin as murder, adultery and
apostasy, or those whom society reject are those who lead holy lives. One, for example, need not doubt the
compassion of the late Mother Theresa for the scum of the earth. On the other hand, those who easily condemn
people who commit mistake and who cannot easily forgive those who wrong them
are those who are self-righteous. The
latter usually demand high standards that they themselves are not able to
meet. Nowhere is this true than in the
Gospel of the Fifth Sunday of Lent, which relates an incident about a woman who
was caught in the very act of adultery (John 7:53-8:11). (This story, it may be observed, seems not a
part of the original Gospel of John. For
one thing, it is not found in all the best manuscripts. Those that contain it place it after 7:36,
others at the end of the Gospel.
Moreover, other manuscripts have it in the Gospel of Luke. Many scholars note that the style is more
Lukan than Johannine. But there is a
point to the opinion that the narrative took a long time before it could be
included in the Gospel because of the quick and uncomplicated forgiveness of
the woman, which seems to contradict the harsh and rigorous penitential
discipline in the early Church. But it
is an authentic story that goes back to the historical Jesus.)
In the Gospel of John, it may be noted that the preaching
of Jesus had such an impact that the Jewish leaders plotted his death (5:18;
7:1). In their determination to expose
him as a false prophet and thereby condemn him, they tried to score a point in
law. While Jesus was teaching in the
Temple area, the Scribes and Pharisees brought to him a woman who had been
caught in the act of adultery. They
thought of putting him in a dilemma: if he should agree to have her stoned, he
could appear as an enemy of Rome, which alone had the authority over capital
punishment. If he would not, he could
break the Jewish law, which prescribes stoning for adulterers: “If within the city a man comes upon a maiden
who is betrothed, and has relations with her, you shall bring them both out to
the gate of the city and there stone them to death” (Deut 22:22-23; see also
Lev 20:10). (The dilemma resembles to
the one on the question of paying taxes to Caesar (Mark 12:13-17). If Jesus favors the paying of taxes to the
Emperor, the common people would reject him, for they saw the paying of taxes
as a violation of the commandment that there is only one Lord who gave Israel
their land. But if he counsels
non-payment of taxes, the Roman would mark him a rebel.)
Poor woman!
Dragged out from the experience of personal intimacy, she must have been
distraught and disoriented to find herself amid men pointing their accusing
fingers to her! She must have covered
her head to escape recognition. But what
is odious here is not simply that they exposed her shame. It is rather the motive of the Pharisees and
Scribes. And they justified their means
with it. They were simply using her in
their controversy with Jesus over the Jewish law. In fact, they were not even interested in the
law. All they wanted was to pin
Jesus. They had no qualms about dragging
a woman through the mud, treating her as an object to parade their zeal for the
law. But the God that Jesus preached is
not a God of legalism. He is a God who
puts priority on the human person over the law.
Before him, who really is without sin?
(“All men have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God” [Rom
3:23]). Who does not stand under
condemnation? If God were to judge us
according to his Word, who would survive?
(cf Ps 130:3).
As in the story
about the question of paying taxes to Caesar, Jesus in this narrative threw the
burden of the problem to the questioners by his advise: “Let the man among you
who has no sin be the first to cast a stone at her” (John 8:7b). In uttering these words, Jesus exposed the
self-righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees. Thinking over these words, they must have
realized their unexposed, hidden faults, and under the gaze of Jesus, became
ashamed of them, as one by one they drifted away, beginning with the eldest
(John 8:9). For one thing, how in the
world they knew adultery was going on?
By going away without a word, they admitted that they were no less
sinful than they woman the dragged out.
Which is enough to disqualify them from judging her. “By your judgment you convict yourself, since
you do the very same things” (Rom 2:1b).
But as we noted last Sunday, God is a God of love and compassion. He loves us even in our sinfulness: “It is precisely in this that God proves his
love for us: that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).
Jesus avoided the dilemma by raising the issue from mere
legalism to what really matters. In
sharp contrast with the Scribes and Pharisees, Jesus faced the woman as a human
person, an object of God’s love, compassion and mercy. It must have been a liberating experience for
the woman to realize that all her accusers have walked away; she, who was
miserable, was left alone to face Jesus who embodied the mercy and compassion
of God. In the famous words of St
Augustine, Relicti sunt duo: misera et misericordia. The Lord--even though he could have judged
because he had no sin, unlike those who wished to stone her-- never uttered a
word of condemnation. All he offered was
the love of God, and that love would have enabled her to start a new life: “You
may go, but from now on, avoid sin” (John 8:11). Sin in society is not stamped out by killing
sinners; that would only multiply sin.
To kill criminals is to perpetuate murder and criminality. The community grows when all realize that
they are all a party to sin, and when sinners are given the chance to repent
and experience the love and mercy of God.
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