The story of the woman taken in adultery follows on very well from last week’s parable of the Prodigal Son. We are even permitted to think that this story’s original place might have been the Gospel of St. Luke, rather than that of St. John. Our text is set in canonical scripture at the beginning of St. John’s eighth Chapter. But it’s lacking there in the earliest Greek manuscripts. In some early manuscripts it’s found in St. Luke, as an appendix. In others it’s found elsewhere in John. But the Latin textual tradition has it here. This tradition coalesced into the Latin Vulgate, which was the reference point for the final fixing of the Scriptural canon at the time of the Council of Trent in the 16th century.
Last week anyway we heard the accusation: This man welcomes sinners, and eats with them. The response of Jesus to that was actually an implicit claim to Messiahship, and even to divine status. Because the Pharisees were actually right. Any observant Jew of the time should indeed keep the law of Moses, and avoid the company of public sinners. But Jesus boldly shared table fellowship with them, because he claimed to be their Redeemer. He could not be contaminated, made unclean by them. Not only did he personally have no sin. As the second Adam, greater than the first, he even had no ability to sin. Whereas on the contrary, his very presence among these sinners had the power to cleanse, purify and heal.
So also with today’s Gospel. Jesus is here quite brutally confronted by the reality of sin. Let us assume that this woman is guilty, and has truly been caught by witnesses. What will Jesus do about it? Will he go against Moses, and thereby show himself to be unfaithful, disobedient to the Law? If he refuses to punish, will he effectively condone, or even trivialise sin?
No indeed. In fact, Jesus alone truly has the right to pronounce the sentence of condemnation. He is our final Judge. He came in order to deal with sin, in a way the law could not (cf. Rm 8:3). But also Jesus alone has the right to pronounce a sentence of mercy, because by his blood he has washed away the guilt of all human sin. In the words of St. John, Jesus came into the world not to condemn the world, but so that through him the world might be saved (3:17).
Confronted by this horrible scene, Jesus bent down to write. The gesture is not explained, so ultimately must remain mysterious. But certainly it made the accusers feel uneasy. Surely it was somehow a sign of his authority, and of the wisdom that would transcend all their clever traps? Perhaps there could be an implicit reference here to the text of Scripture which says that the Law was written “by the finger of God” (Exodus 31:18)? Scripture also says both that the names of the Saints are written in heaven (Luke 10:20), and the names of sinners are written in the dust (cf. Jeremiah 17:13). Anyway as Jesus writes, one by one the accusers withdraw.
At the end Jesus and the woman are left alone together. He asks her: Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you? I find these words so very moving. They are spoken by the one who is himself Truth; who sees us through and through; who uniquely understands the horror of what sin is. Yet also his name is Divine Mercy. We’re reminded here of that stirring passage at the end of the eighth Chapter of Romans, where St. Paul cries out: Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who then will condemn?
On the Last Day, each of us will stand, as it were, with this woman, naked and exposed in all our sinfulness before Jesus. All of us without any exception are sinners. None of us would dare stand on our own righteousness. On That Day, all our excuses will fall away. But so also will all the nasty accusations of those who want to do us down. And in the words of Jesus to this woman, we can hear pronounced over us the sentence of grace and mercy. Far from pronouncing these words lightly, Jesus does so at the cost of his own life.
St. Ambrose remarks that the Pharisees do not want to be found in the company of Jesus. So they are the ones who land up finally condemned. But this woman does remain with him, and so she can be set free. Of course she must not sin again. But now, as St. Ambrose remarks, where punishment could only destroy, grace will be able to amend, to convert, to make of a sinner a Saint.
In these coming holy days, with the whole Church we enter more deeply, and in a more focussed way, into the mystery of the Lord’s suffering and death. We follow him to Calvary. There we stand with him. We claim the power of his blood. We declare that we belong to him, and place all our hope in him. For in Him alone is all our hope of redemption, of salvation, of freedom from sin, of being found at last righteous before God, of forgiveness, of mercy, and of eternal life.