Encountering the Word
The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery; and making her stand before all of them, they said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?†They said this to test him, so that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.†[Full text: John 8:1-11]
Contemplating the Word
Yesterday we raised the question of how best to relate to people whose lives do not yet reflect the fullness of truth that we seek to live by. We noted that being judgemental and premature in our dealings with others is not at all helpful. After all, as Jesus taught us, the standards by which we judge others will be applied to us: “let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at herâ€.
In this account, Jesus shows us how to relate to someone whose moral behaviour may not be in accord with what we believe should be the case. It challenges our tendency to either confront people too soon and too vehemently, or to ignore the behaviour altogether. Here Jesus walks with the woman along the line balanced between love and truth.
As he does this, notice that Jesus ignores the woman’s accusers and gives all his attention to her. Her suffering and humiliation is palpable. Her life is on the line. The crowds have gathered, rocks in their hands, ready to sentence her to a painful and bloody death. She is in need of Jesus’ help – and he gives it to her. Yes, he will soon challenge her to ‘go and sin no more’, but that is not where he begins.
Jesus begins by writing on the ground with his finger. He gets down into the dust, joining her where she has been metaphorically thrown. Jesus begins his relationship with this woman not by chastising her, but by humbling himself before her and identifying with her. Then he attends to her immediate need – he saves her life. Only once she is out of danger does he speak to her of how her life needs to change. That’s the order in which Jesus proceeds: he humbles himself and identifies with her, he attends to her immediate most pressing need, and only then calls her to change.
This raises the obvious question – how often do we try to shortcut the process by jumping to the end point? Can we fall into the trap of being so keen to challenge people that we forget that that dimension is best left until after they have become thoroughly convinced of our love and our care for them? How many people do we turn off the practice of the faith by our premature enthusiasm to challenge how they are living?
Being the Word
As the momentum of Lent builds, we become more and more aware of the enormity of what Jesus is doing on our behalf. That is as it should be. However, we can very easily focus entirely on what he is doing, and let ourselves off the hook. We can fail to realise that we are called to be ‘as Christ Jesus’ (see Philippians 2). What we mean by this is that our existence as part of the body of Christ involves the ongoing process of growing in his likeness – even down to emulating his death and resurrection. While dying is something that Jesus did for us, it is also something he does in and to us. Anyone who has lived a life of grace intuitively knows what this means. The seed that is the ego must fall to the ground and die (see John 12:24). The path to true conversion of heart is punctuated with many deaths and many moments when the Spirit breathes life into us again.
This is all very well in theory. However, it can be somewhat disorienting when it impacts on our lives and on our experience of Church. The little deaths that we all experience (personal frustrations, humiliations, aggravations and disappointments) have a tendency to undermine our confidence in what we’re doing (if the experience is personal) and in what the Church is doing (if the experience is ecclesial). I can’t tell you how many people I’ve met over the years who have stopped the practice of their faith because, in their estimation, the Church is not as perfect as it should be. This can represent a failure to understand that the Church is made up of people like you and me. There is no ‘dress code’, no entry fee, and no prerequisite of perfection to join. Sinners are welcome. This is both the glory of the Church and its daily cross: for you and I have the potential to both proclaim the kingdom of God and to cause great harm to that proclamation.
Sometimes through our actions (and often through our inaction) we bring ‘death’. It is the Spirit of God, when the given the opportunity, who can breathe life into that death. It is for this that we pray, and it is why, during Lent and beyond, that we repent.
Speaking to the Word
Spend a few minutes in prayer to the God who is as close to you as your breath. Ponder the reality of God’s presence and contemplate the thought that God has something for you – a plan that is as unique as you are. Don’t worry about what that plan is nor about what you are to do. Your role is simple: sit in God’s presence and wait for him.
Remain silently in God’s presence for as long as you feel inclined or opportunity will allow. Then bring before God any sincere prayers of intercession that you have. Instead of asking God to do things for you, ask that he might achieve whatever he wishes through you.
Finish by praying the great yet simple prayer of praise to the Blessed Trinity: Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen
