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Exploring the word

07 Apr 2019 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle C

In this day and age, some will think it “reasonable” or simply realistic to admit that some things can’t be done and some divides will never be bridged. The goal of world peace, mouthed by every beauty pageant winner, or the eradication of poverty may just be pipe dreams. Republicans and Democrats may never shake hands and get along, much less communists and capitalists. Rich people will probably never “feel the pain” of poor people, which means the developed and developing worlds will remain in violent conflict. Universal health care, honest politicians, and preachers who practice what they preach may well be among the things the world has to do without. World-weary “reasonable” people are willing to accept the world as it is and make their peace with reality. Didn’t Jesus with all of his idealism say, “There will be poor always”? If even Jesus couldn’t see past the inequality and inherent corruption of the world, how can we be expected to? Of course, Jesus also taught that the poor are particularly blessed with no less than the inheritance of God’s kingdom. He preached that God’s special providence was available to them as it is to sparrows and lilies. Jesus insisted that the last would get first place and those who mourn would one day laugh. Though Jesus knew quite well the condition of the human heart, he also knew the heart of God. The worldly might cling to systems of inequality forever, but God’s will and purpose is to restore justice once and for all. The way through In the stories of salvation, we hear how God is constantly opening a way where there is none. After the first couple unleashed the powers of hell into creation and were expelled from paradise, God clothed them with infinite care for the difficult road ahead. When Cain resorted to murder and feared his own death, God set a mark of protection on him. Noah was set afloat on a destroyed world with the seeds of a new creation on board. And the most famous path through certain destruction that God plowed was at the shore of the Red Sea, when a nation was led from slavery to freedom against all odds. Whenever human beings are tempted to say, “No way,” God resolutely creates a way. In order to keep this truth fresh in our collective memory, the story of the Red Sea becomes the most retold tale in scripture. Isaiah offers a reprise today to a people struggling with the reality of exile. Would they ever return to the land they lost? Remember the Lord who opens a way in the sea! Remember the twisted wreck of enemy chariots and armies on the opposite shore! But then Isaiah does a double take: Don’t just remember the events of the past. See what new thing God is doing right now! If God can make a dry path through the sea, God can likewise create a spring of water in a desert wilderness. God can create freedom out of slavery and homecoming from the elements of exile. God’s way is to transfigure the consequences of human sin into the possibility of grace. God’s way is through death If anyone understood that God was always doing “something new,” it was Paul of Tarsus. He’d been through the kingdom turnaround personally, transformed from a Pharisee of the law into an apostle of grace. He had gained moral perfection under the law but later considered it “so much rubbish” compared with what he gained in Christ. For him, the ultimate proof that God was doing something mightily new in the world, right now, was the Resurrection of Jesus from the dead. If suffering and death could be transformed into new life, then all bets about what reasonable people find plausible are off. For Paul, the Resurrection made faith a reasonable proposition. Without the Resurrection, the story of Jesus was a tragedy, even an absurdity, and anyone who followed him for the sake of his unreasonable teachings about the meek inheriting the earth was the worst sort of fool. The powerful were grabbing the earth with both hands; everybody can see that. The only thing that made Jesus at all credible was Easter Sunday. If that wasn’t true, then the rest was a terrible piece of fiction. “Has no one condemned you?” Jesus poses a trick question to the woman who stood before him, accused of adultery. The short answer to the question was yes. Everyone had condemned her: the scribes, the Pharisees, the court of common opinion, even the law of Moses. If the man who had been “caught in adultery” with her had pulled on his clothes and followed the crowds, he could well have stood there condemning her, too. After all, had she not tempted him to this sin? There was no way out of this condemnation and no way through the destruction that was coming. She would be stoned. It was the law. It was what everyone wanted. She had no champion and there was no dissenting opinion. The mistake everyone made, of course, was to bring her before Jesus. Perhaps they were absent on the day Jesus taught that he was “The Way.” Theologically speaking, we might say Jesus is the way out. He gets us out past sin, out beyond death, opens the door to alternate possibilities in a world that says, “No way.” Jesus is such an infallible way through impossible circumstances and hopeless odds that when he asked the woman who was left to condemn her, the only answer she could give in bald astonishment was, “No one, sir.” Applying the word No reason to be reasonable Jesus is the proven way of his Father, whose will it is to create a way where there is none. Jesus gets us through ocean and desert, past guilt and culpability, past the wage of sin itself in all its brutal finality. At the end of the road, we find, there is more road. Up against the wall, we discover the door that gets us beyond. So if there’s one word that does not belong in the Christian vocabulary, it’s impossible. World peace? The end of poverty? Liberty and justice for all? Why not? Related scripture links The last, the lilies, the poor: Matt. 18:4, 19:30; Luke 9:48, 13:30; Matt. 6:25-34, 5:3-12; Luke 6:20-23 Jesus knows the human heart: John 2:24-25 God’s way is now: 2 Cor. 6:1-2 If Christ is not raised, your faith is in vain: 1 Cor. 15:12-20

Authors Alice Camille

impossibility Transformation Let the one without sin cast the first stone moses parting the red sea passing judgment

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Homily stories

07 Apr 2019 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle C

The church was abuzz. People could not help but see the graffiti that had been spray painted on the beautiful doors of the church, on the stone walls, the sidewalk and even the rectory garage overnight. No names or gang symbols. Just one can of red paint sprayed randomly. I was livid. I mused in my homily that I’d like to meet the person who felt compelled to desecrate our sacred space and ask “Why?” My prayer was answered. One of our teens heard that someone down the block had done it and told him I wanted to talk to him. To my utter amazement the perpetrator appeared at the rectory door and identified himself as the tagger. We sat in the parlor. There was so much I wanted to ask him and say to him . . . and maybe even, do to him. Instead I could only sputter “Why?” He informed me it was because he was an atheist. I said I wasn’t, but that if I respected his beliefs I had no right to spray paint his house or garage or car, correct? He agreed. I struggled with what to say or do next. I asked him to promise never to do anything like that again. He agreed to that as well. All I had was his word. I was afraid of what might come out of me next so I accepted his answer and he left. We were not tagged again. And I realized I had to clean the ugliness that the incident left on my soul as well as the buildings. “Let the one without sin cast the first stone.”

Authors Father Dominic Grassi

graffiti Let the one without sin cast the first stone

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Homily stories

07 Apr 2019 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle C

I grew up watching Flash Gordon reruns with my brother on Sunday mornings after church. The show's writers perfected the “cliffhanger ending.” At the end of each program it would appear that our hero was facing mortal danger with no hope of escape. We had to tune in the following week to see if he survived. Of all the cliffhanger endings in the Old Testament, one of the most dramatic was when the people of Israel were making a break from their wicked captors in Egypt. While they were fleeing on foot, Pharaoh’s armies were closing in on chariots. Just when the Israelites were almost done for, Moses parted the Red Sea and the Israelites ran to safety. When the charioteers pursued, the waters closed up again and drowned the enemy. Jesus staged a cliffhanger of his own. Scribes and Pharisees brought before him a woman who had been caught in adultery. The self-righteous men put the woman in the middle of their circle and demanded that Jesus go along with their plan to stone her. The tension mounted. The men were ready to act. Jesus knelt low and began writing in the sand and invited anyone who was without sin to cast the first stone. The men slunk away. The woman was not only saved—she was forgiven and invited to sin no more. A happy ending like that makes me want to tune in for Jesus’ next exciting episode.

Authors Tom McGrath

moses parting the red sea cliffhangers Let the one without sin cast the first stone

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Homily stories

07 Apr 2019 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle C

The board of directors’ decision to hire a consultant to come up with some new fundraising strategies at the financially hurting organization was met with huge resistance. Long before the consultant’s first day, the company rumor mill had begun, and by the time the “outsider” came face to face with the employees, they had painted him as an axe-wielding brute intent on slashing every beloved program currently in place. As the company president was introducing him, the consultant scanned the room and saw nothing but scowls. Before he had a chance to say good morning, the accusations—thinly veiled as questions—bombarded him from all directions. Some of the assumptions were so ludicrous, he didn’t even know how to respond. Wild fear that somehow the consultant would stand in judgment of each employee and expose personal failures and incompetencies fueled the anger and panic: “How can you possibly understand our business? Most of us have worked here for years. You have no idea what goes into our programs or what our donors want. We’re wasting our money on you.” And so it went—with no stone left unthrown. It seems Jesus’ “he who is without sin” rule didn’t apply that day.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

Let the one without sin cast the first stone

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Homily stories

07 Apr 2019 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle C

I remember in the eighth grade, Sister William sharing with the class the story of the woman caught in adultery. Sister explained that what John the Evangelist left out when he gave us this gospel was the listing of sins that those who wanted to stone the woman committed. That was what Jesus wrote on the ground. Sister told us that God also knew all of our sins and that, if we were not careful we could lose all the blessings given to us. So we should not be passing judgment on anybody else. But that slipped right past me. It was the fact that Jesus knew everything I had done and he might somehow let my “sinful cats out of the bag” for all to see that frightened me. We obviously do not know what Jesus wrote. But the reality is that each one of us is a sinner. Saint Paul admits in the second reading—and we, too, need to admit—that we have not attained perfect moral maturity.

Authors Father Dominic Grassi

Let the one without sin cast the first stone passing judgment

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In other words

07 Apr 2019 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle C

Jesus went across to Mount Olives, but he was soon back in the Temple again. Swarms of people came to him. He sat down and taught them. The religion scholars and Pharisees led in a woman who had been caught in an act of adultery. They stood her in plain sight of everyone and said, “Teacher, this woman was caught red-handed in the act of adultery. Moses, in the Law, gives orders to stone such persons. What do you say?” They were trying to trap him into saying something incriminating so they could bring charges against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger in the dirt. They kept at him, badgering him. He straightened up and said, “The sinless one among you, go first: Throw the stone.” Bending down again, he wrote some more in the dirt. Hearing that, they walked away, one after another, beginning with the oldest. The woman was left alone. Jesus stood up and spoke to her. “Woman, where are they? Does no one condemn you?” “No one, Master.” “Neither do I,” said Jesus. “Go on your way. From now on, don’t sin” (from John 8). From A New Message 4 Next Week (actapublications.com) based on The Message: Catholic/Ecumenical Edition by Eugene Peterson (ACTA Publications, 2013).

Let the one without sin cast the first stone

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Exploring the word

03 Apr 2022 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle C

It's kind of amusing, really: Scholars aren’t sure what to do with the woman-caught-in-the-act-of-committing-adultery. It would be helpful, too, if we had a shorter name for her, or could identify her beyond her sin. Imagine if you and I were known only by our greatest hour of humiliation: boy-who-stole-twenty-dollars-from-his-mother’s-wallet-only-to-see-her-cry-at-the-discovery; or man-who-couldn’t-keep-a-job-for-very-long-because-of-his-temper. We all hope we are better than our weakest hour. But what if that sin became the brand name by which we would be forever known? Being branded with her sin isn’t the only problem this woman has, however. She seems badly placed in the chapter of John’s gospel in which we find her, slicing through two otherwise connecting passages. Other early manuscripts put her story elsewhere in John, or even in Luke, where her story seems to have a better thematic fit in a gospel that champions sinners, females, and underdogs. This woman qualifies on all three counts. And even if we could settle on a textual place for this woman, many preachers still find it hard to locate her in terms of her significance. I’ve heard sermons focused on the evils of adultery and sexual sin, for example—a considerable stretch for a story demonstrating the mercy of Jesus. I’ve heard social justice homilies, which note how the woman is singled out for punishment for a sin that necessarily involves two people. There are feminist approaches that question the nature of the sin: In the ancient Middle East, it was just as likely that the woman was raped, after which her attacker claimed a consensual situation. Preachers decry the legalism of the scribes and Pharisees who show no compassion for a human being like ourselves who gave in to a moment of weakness. My personal favorites are those brave homilists who seek to interpret what Jesus was writing on the ground and how it forced each member of the hostile crowd to give up their assault and go home. The simple approach It’s probably impossible to erase our present context from the way in which we interpret these stories, and the homiletic task actually invites us to make vital connections between what was and what is. But if we take this story as it stands—in the context of John and without too much second-guessing of the social situation—we might consider that it’s all about power. In John’s gospel, Jesus is continually squaring off against his opponents, and each of his acts is understood to be a “sign” of his authority. Whether he’s healing, teaching, walking on water, or raising the dead, the point is not to show the depth of divine compassion but to prove that he is who he says he is. Although it does cut into our hopes for a glimpse of his humanity, Jesus in John directs all of his efforts toward demonstrating his authority as Son-of-God and one-with-God. Looking for a cameo moment of tenderness in this episode between Jesus and the unhappy woman is probably, regrettably, beside the point. Renaissance painters actually got this right in the way they portrayed the scene as a face-off between Jesus and the religious authorities over the teaching of Moses. The woman hardly participates in the scene and is visually obscure, because the debate isn’t about her and her fate, unfortunately. Her guilt is presumed, and mitigating circumstances are not entertained. Seeing justice done is the last thing on anyone’s mind. This woman is simply a convenient pawn in a larger game of who gets to speak for God. To the religious leaders, she is no different than the coin Jesus uses in another debate to consider whether to pay taxes to the Romans. So erase the passionate indignation about sexual immorality, or the plea for social enlightenment. The scribes and Pharisees have Moses and the law on their side. Does Jesus dispute their authority, and if so, on what possible grounds? From the ground up Scholars like to point out the evidence that Jesus was, unlike many in his generation, literate: Here he writes on the ground. That, and his proclamation from the scroll in Nazareth are the only examples of Jesus writing and reading. What he writes and why he writes remains a mystery. When he finally responds to the challenge, it seems to come from the ground up, from the basic platform of mortality itself: our common sinfulness. Judgment, both Jesus and his opponents would agree, is a divine prerogative. What God may choose to do with adulterers, now or later, or how to determine the relative culpability of each, is something sinful humanity is in no position to decide. In effect, Jesus doesn’t question the law of Moses but the self-appointed lawyers of Moses. He left the jots and tittles in place but took the pen away from the accusers. In keeping with John’s dry detachment, once Jesus is alone with the woman he does not pronounce her innocent, nor does he forgive her sins, as he might in the Synoptic tradition. He just refuses to condemn her and advises her to stay out of trouble. Clearly Jesus has won the round, but it is on the principle of divine judgment, not divine mercy, that the battle was waged. Applying the word Remember not the past It's a new day in the realm of God, as Isaiah boldly declares. Although he reminds us that God is the Lord of past wonders—the parting of the Red Sea principally among them—the prophet insists we keep our focus on what God is doing now and will do next. We don’t have to pin our hopes on the record of old but can put our trust in the God who is, right now, bringing something wonderful to life in our midst. Maybe this is the greatest fault of the religious leaders of Jesus’ day. It wasn’t that their confidence in the law was misplaced. It’s just that they were so focused on what they had in Moses, they failed to see what new revelation of truth God had brought forth in Jesus. Staying awake to the wonders is challenging, but if we keep our eyes and hearts open, we may see greater things still. Related scripture links Render to Caesar: Mark 12:13-17; Matt. 22:15-22; Luke 20:20-26 Authority of Jesus tested: Mark 11:27-33; Matt. 19:1-12; 21:23-27; Luke 20:1-8 Reading in Nazareth: Luke 4:16 Jots and tittles: Matt. 5:18; Luke 16:17 Other passages about judgment: Matt. 7:1-5; Luke 6:37-42 Catechism links Authority: CCC 574-591; 1897-1904; 2234-2237

Authors Alice Camille

Authority divine judgment adultery Let the one without sin cast the first stone

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Homily stories

03 Apr 2022 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle C

A cartoon in a Catholic magazine decades ago portrayed the scene in today’s gospel: Jesus has just lazily doodled in the sand and gotten the attention of the self-righteous assembled crowd—their hands tightly gripping rocks with which to stone the woman caught in adultery. Jesus has forthrightly invited anyone—if he is without sin—to “cast the first stone.” At that moment, lo and behold, a single stone flies over their heads and Jesus, with a bit of exasperation, complains, “Mother?!” While we struggle, especially during Lent, to open ourselves to renewal by the purifying Spirit of God and God’s word; while we start, yet again, to embrace afresh the power of our Baptism, a sense of humor goes a long way to making sure our goal is righteousness, not self-righteousness.

Authors Father Larry Janowski O.F.M.

adultery righteousness humor Let the one without sin cast the first stone

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