Last week, Jesus preached to us the Parable of the Prodigal Son, in which we see the son repenting, turning back toward his Father’s house. And the very good news that underlies all of this, is that the call to repentance presupposes a God who longs to forgive us. When we repent, we meet a Father who has boundless love for each us of wayward prodigal children of his. The father runs to embrace the sinner, wraps his arms around him with tears of joy. There is more joy in heaven over the one sinner who repents, than over the 99 who do not repent.
The fifth Sunday of Lent continues the Lenten call to repentance. And everything should be counted as rubbish, as St. Paul puts it, that keeps us from knowing God’s mercy.
In today’s Gospel, God’s mercy is made manifest in Jesus’ encounter with the woman caught in adultery. Just as Jesus wanted us last week to identify with the Prodigal Son, so he wants us to see ourselves in the woman caught red-handed. And just as he wanted us to recognize that often we can behave like the older brother in the Parable who resents mercy given to sinful siblings, so, too, he wishes us to drop whatever stones are in our hands. And just as last week’s Parable urges us to seek the joy of turning back toward our Father’s house, so in this week’s Gospel we are to seek that life-changing encounter with Jesus’ mercy as did the adulterous woman.
The Gospel begins with the scribes and Pharisees posing a dilemma to Jesus. The woman had been caught in the very act of adultery, the dilemma is what to do with her. The dilemma posed to Jesus by the Pharisees is do we stone her to death or not? Moses, whom the Pharisees regarded as God’s greatest prophet, commanded adulterers to be stoned to death. Do we obey Moses and stone her, or do we disobey Moses and not stone her? If Jesus says yes, stone her, then he contradicts his own teaching about forgiveness and mercy. He’s also violating Roman law, since the Romans did not give the Jews the right to capital punishment. If he says no, don’t stone her, then he’s contradicting Jewish law and telling them to disobey the law that came from the greatest of God’s prophets. If Jesus refuses to answer, well then he can be dismissed as coward or as an authentic teacher.
So what does he do? In his divine genius, he tells them: “Let the one among you who is without sin cast the first stone.” He doesn’t evade the question, he shows that they were evading their own sinfulness. You claim she has a lot to answer for…you have a lot to answer for. He challenges them to look in the mirror. The adulterous woman is a mirror for them and for us.
And what happens? You want to talk about a miracle? The fact that each of the Pharisees dropped their stones and actually walked away. Maybe there is hope even for the spiritually blind Pharisee to recognize his sinfulness.
Again, the woman caught in adultery is a mirror for us to see ourselves and our sins. Every sin, in a sense, is an act of adultery toward God, because all sin is infidelity to the spousal covenant of love we have entered into with God through baptism. Every sin is a misuse of our God given free will which in justice should result in the loss of heaven forever.
For the consequence of sin is relative to the one who has been offended or hurt by our sin. If you commit a crime against a fellow civilian, there is a minor punishment. If you commit a crime against a police officer, there is a greater punishment. If you commit a crime against the president, there is an even greater punishment due to the importance of his office. If you commit a crime against God, who is infinite in grandeur and goodness, well, that incurs the greatest of debts and merits the severest of consequences, no?
We need a savior, who is God and man, God who alone can forgive our sins, and man to pay the price. And the good news of Lent is that indeed we have such a Savior. Forgiveness of the debt is available through Christ.
But, failing to repent that we have “greatly sinned … by our own … most grievous fault,” is like saying, I don’t need a Savior. Unless we recognize that we’re really sick—in need of the doctor—we cannot appreciate either the medicine of mercy or the Divine Physician who dies to dispense it.
As the Pharisees walk away, the Lord says to the woman, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She replied, “No one, sir.” Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin any more.”
Notice, Jesus doesn’t say, “there’s nothing to forgive. Don’t worry about it. You’re only human.” He calls her sin a sin, but offers her a new beginning. “Go and sin no more”.
What a beautiful command. One of the most beautiful in all of scripture. Go and use your god-given free will in a way pleasing to God. Is there anything more beautiful than that command? To live a life free from serious sin! The Lord would never have commanded it if it weren't possible. To the soul abandoned to Christ, It's possible. Which is what he’s offering this woman. To all of us. A new start. As long as we draw breath.
Nine years ago, Pope Francis preached his first Sunday mass as Pope. And this was the Gospel that weekend. And the Holy Father stressed “God never tires of forgiving us…it’s we who tire of asking for forgiveness.” Then he prayed, “May we never tire of asking for what God never tires to give!”
Next week, on Palm Sunday, we will hear the Lord’s Passion, how Jesus goes to the cross that each of us may be forgiven, over and over, if need be. All we have to do is repent, confess our sins, intend to sin no more, and put forth some effort in amending our lives.
“May we never tire of asking for what God never tires to give!” for the glory of God and salvation of souls
