Fifth Sunday of Lent, Year C—2001

Homily

This is Year C in the Liturgical Cycle and week-by-week we have been progressing steadily through the Gospel of Luke. But here on the Fifth Sunday of Lent we suddenly switch from the Gospel of Luke to the Gospel of John. Or do we?

I say, “or do we” for the very good reason that this Gospel passage—the story of the woman caught in adultery was most probably not written by John. It is not found in any of the early manuscripts and in fact it is acknowledged as a very late insertion into the Gospel of John, coming in around the fourth century.

Even though the story enters the Gospel very late, it is, however, regarded as a very ancient in its origins and the Western, Eastern and Protestant Churches have universally accepted it as an authentic part of Holy Scripture.

The style of the story is not Johannine in grammar or vocabulary and some have observed that it has much greater affinity with the writing and style of Luke. And they say it would be more appropriately placed directly after Luke 21:38. Certainly it is the sort of story that Luke would have included since it portrays in an extraordinarily delicate way the mercy and subtlety of Jesus.

These are interesting questions and one can only presume that it if it was originally part of Luke’s Gospel it must have been dropped because it shows Christ as being too lenient. The early Church was much stricter in its penitential discipline and this text must have seemed dangerously liberal so it was put on the back burner, as it were.

Thankfully this account has found its way back into the Canon of Scripture and no one today doubts its authenticity. We recognise it as a true picture of the love and mercy of the Jesus we know.

The woman was brought to Jesus, the Scribes and Pharisees wanting to test him. Here is another interesting point; in the normal way of things the woman would have been brought before the Sanhedrin and sentenced to death. But there is evidence that in AD 30 the Romans removed the death sentence from the Jewish authorities.

That is also why, according to John, Jesus was tried by Pilate and not by the Jews. (cf; John 18:31) Pilate said to them. ‘Take him yourselves and try him according to your own law.’ They replied, ‘We are not allowed to put anyone to death.’

So, since the woman could not be condemned to the punishment required by the Jewish law, she was used instead as a pawn to trick Jesus. Or, as many writers suggest, the whole thing was a set up job. Perhaps her husband knew she was having an affair and gathered witnesses together and burst in on the woman and her accomplice just in order to provide the Scribes and Pharisees with an excuse to put Jesus on the spot.

If this suggestion is correct it implies a very deep level of hatred against Jesus that they should go to such lengths to find a way of betraying him to the Romans. Their cynical manipulation of the woman is further testimony to their deeply corrupt view of the world.

If Jesus had followed the letter of the Jewish law, and said that the woman ought to be sentenced to death, then the mob, agitated by the Scribes and Pharisees, would have surely carried the punishment out there and then. If that were to happen then Jesus could easily have been hauled up before the Roman authorities and accused of inciting the crowd and thereby causing the woman’s death.

So Jesus was really put on the spot. He had no doubt as to the intentions of the Scribes and Pharisees and was very wary of them since his hour had not yet come.

When Jesus says, let he who is without sin cast the first stone, he is perhaps pointing to the sin of those who want, not the death of the woman caught in adultery, but his own death. He knows what is in their hearts and they know that he knows what is in their hearts.

But Jesus even shows the accusers mercy. I think that is what the drawing on the ground meant. A lot of ink has been spilt over the centuries as to just what Jesus did write on the ground that day. Some have suggested that he wrote something that indicated to the Pharisees that he knew what they were about and that it was a set up job. But you will notice that he actually draws or writes on the ground twice.

First they ask him for his verdict in the case and he bends down and starts to draw on the ground—this is what a Roman judge would have done, first written out the sentence before delivering it verbally. By doing this they believe that he has fallen into their trap and he has their complete attention.

But then Jesus looks up and says the famous words, let he who is without sin cast the first stone. He then bends down again and returns to his doodling in the sand. Because he averts his gaze from them he enables the woman’s accusers to slip away one by one without losing face.

Jesus’ mercy is not only shown towards the woman, it is also shown towards her accusers. But in neither case does he condone the crime. Both the woman and the Pharisees implicitly acknowledge their sin and Jesus condemns neither. He simply says in words to the woman and by his actions to the Pharisees: Go away and don’t sin any more.

Jesus forgives sin. He doesn’t ignore it; he knows it for what it is—a fundamental and personal rejection of God. He doesn’t brush it aside but neither does he make a mountain out of a molehill. He is not shocked or upset. He forgives and invites the sinner to convert, to turn from their evil ways and embrace the good.

That woman experienced the forgiveness of Christ, even though he never says the words I forgive you. We don’t know what she did afterwards, whether she went back to her husband, or lover, or other family. But we do know that she must have been deeply affected by her encounter with Christ and as a result would have wanted to embrace the life of chastity he presented to her as the truly worthy way to live.

What the woman did is of no real consequence. It is what we do that matters. Go away and don’t sin any more. These words of Jesus challenge us at the deepest level of our being. Yes, we will go away, but by living in such a way we will be always close to him who is our Saviour and our friend.