Lent 5 C ~Jn 8:1-11 ~ "Crossing the Kidron" ~ Rev. Richard Eslinger, PhD

The span of earth from Jerusalem to the Mount of Olives is etched into our spiritual geography. The heights of the Holy City are capped by the Temple, the place of God’s presence to God’s people Israel. And the Mount of Olives, with its long rising ridge to the East of the City became the place for Jesus to gather with his disciples. Between the two is the Kidron Valley, a place of crossing between the Mount of Olives and the Holy City. In John’s Gospel two primary crossings of the Kidron are lifted up. Of course, the final crossing occurs when Jesus is arrested

by the Temple authorities and brought from the Mount of Olives to the City of David.

But today, we hear of the first of these crossings. This time, the movement is in reverse. Jesus was on the Mount of Olives at night and early in the morning he crosses the Kidron again and arrives at the Temple, the place of presence of God. The two crossings in John share much in common. At the heart of the narratives is an ongoing conflict between the religious authorities and Jesus. Of course, the last of these Kidron crossings leads to the Lord’s trial, passion, and crucifixion. But

the first is also a trial of sorts, both for the Woman Caught in Adultery and for Jesus.

(See note following homily text on a strategy for shortening this narrative homily)

While teaching in the Temple, some of the religious leaders bring a woman who had been caught in the very act of adultery. She has been “caught in the act,” a way of saying that there is no defense possible that would relieve her of her punishment. More than that, these religious leaders have placed her in the center of their circled accusations. “She has been caught in the very act of this adulterous behavior,” they announce to Jesus. As if Jesus is innocent of the Law,

they add that “Moses commanded us to stone such women.” Then comes their question to him: “So what do you say?” St. John adds a note that is strikingly obvious. “They said this to test him.” So there are two trials going on here at the same time. On one hand, the accusers happily bring this woman to Jesus for his response. She is obviously guilty of a capital crime and there is no way out. But they hope that a second test--of the Lord--will result in his messing with the

Law of Moses. Anything to catch him in a capital crime himself!

So they stand there, encircling the woman, imagining those stones already in their hands. To be sure, there is a cynical joy in such an outcome. If you are among those casting stones, a certain moral superiority comes naturally along with the aerobic exercise of stoning. The stoners are righteous, at least in their

own eyes. Moreover, the victim is not the object of their violence, but in a strange way, they have become the victims of the crime they seek to punish. Certainly they are intending to be the first to cast those stones. Makes you wonder who else will join them around this circle of death? Maybe the man caught in this very act will be among the first to pick up his stones. An ugly matter indeed.

Look around and notice those who, for whatever reasons, offer their assistance in such brutal actions. Our deeply divided society in these days offers all sorts of opportunities for such stone-casting actions.

Some people who at first lauded Elon Musk for his creation of very low pollution

electric vehicles, have now changed their tune. He is now a pariah, an enemy who

deserves to be punished. So some fling fire-bombs at Tesla dealerships and scroll

swastikas on Teslas on the street. Imagine how morally righteous such acts of

violence feel. What vindication against evil! Justice is served!

Others have been caught up in the moment’s anti-trans rhetoric and they hurl words like stones at anyone who would dare to identify themselves as trans. Again, the outcome is immediate. It is the stone throwers who have been victimized, and such evil doers deserve all of our worst invective. We are on the side of the angels.

Justice is served!

And there are times, we confess this Lent, when we may be surprised to find

ourselves grasping a rock, too. Maybe it is a serial encounter with the memory of

someone who threatens us in some way. Now it is again the opportunity to slander that person with our rocky words. Or, we have become so passionate about our own stands, politically or socially, that our words are like stones, ready to be hurled at our enemies. Or, oddly, we may even still be carrying a stone or two ready to again “stone” ourselves as being worthless or lacking in value. Justice will be served by any of these stone-holding actions.

So behold all these “circles of death,” where people unite to put down or exclude others. The list goes on, the causes shift at times, but the outcome is always the same: “We are the chosen, the pure, and the righteous. And you are not!”

It is clear that Jesus is now encircled as well. They are after him, too. His accusers have found their prey and they are now hunting him down. Aware of their encircling in this way, Jesus bends down and begins to write something on the ground. In a delightful response, his actions seems to say that he is more interested in what he is doing there scribbling in the dirt than what is going on in the midst of those stone-wielding aggressors. But this nonchalant action seems to intensify the anger and need for domination that the circling folks display. They

continue to ask the same questions of him, about the Law and the woman’s guilt and her obvious and needed fate. Jesus then stands and turns to them. “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.”

Interesting, this statement by the Lord. It is perhaps one of the most widely known words of Jesus among the general society. It is heard by churched people as well as those who “have no need for all that religion nonsense.” Also, the saying is applied in so many contexts that clearly have no relationship to what was happening there at the Temple. For example, you might hear these words whenever someone is exposed for sexual misdeeds, especially those in high office. In these cases, the Jesus saying is used to excuse most anyone from sexual lapses (the unspoken word is “sins.”). One exception to this standard practice is that when a TV preacher or other Christian cleric gets discovered in such sin, we find lots of folks rising to circle round with stones in their hands! The pure folks who usually are the first to excuse such actions suddenly turn to the attack when a religious leader is found doing the same sorts of behavior.

So, a couple of insights that relate to both Jesus’ accusers and those in our

post-Christian culture. First, Jesus does not cancel out the significance of sinful acts. Violations of covenant remain sinful and are destructive to persons and communities. Second, the other sin of self-righteous arrogance is revealed. What, in fact, was the purpose of those religious leaders when they brought this woman before Jesus? They put her on trial with an automatic “guilt” verdict. And they attempted to trap Jesus into any reply that could lead to his own condemnation

and death. But Jesus’ words turn the tables on the circling condemnation folks. What was not at all under scrutiny at the beginning of this trial was any focus on the sin of the accusers. But we know that such a stance of purity will not stand, especially right here in the season of Lent. From Ash Wednesday on, we are being formed into a community that openly joins in confessing its sins to God, openly and fervently. So on Ash Wednesday, we began this Lenten journey with

these words of Psalm 51:

“For I acknowledge my offense,

and my sin is before me always,” we pray.

“Against you only have I sinned,

and done what is evil in your sight,” we confess.

We cannot escape our own sin, hearing our Lord’s words. We have done that which is evil in the sight of God. After his famous pronouncement about being without sin and stone-casting, Jesus kneels again and resumes his writing on the ground. (We remain without a clue as to what he writes, and St. John gives us no hint.) What happened next is filled with drama. Here is Jesus looking at his etchings on the ground and in response, “they went away, one by one, beginning with the elders.” The Greek text adds, “and by their conscience being convicted.”

They leave, abandoning their circle of hate, according to their seniority. The eldest leave first and by the end of this tactical withdrawal, only a few of the youngest temporarily remain. But abandoned by their elders, they realize that they are exposed and vulnerable, a terrible place for hypocrites!

Finally, Jesus finishes his writing in the dirt. Looking up, he now sees only the woman standing there, along with himself. He rises and asks her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” Her reply is filled with relief and joy. “No one, sir.” None of the accusers is anywhere to be found. Gone. Jesus response is startling. He says, “Neither do I condemn you.” And he adds, “Go, and from now on, do not sin any more.”

There are two levels to this interchange, both occurring at the same time. At the surface level, the charge of adultery is dismissed along with its sentence of stoning. The witnesses to the violation of the Law have disappeared. The charge is null and void. But at a far deeper level, Jesus announces that he does not condemn her. He does know of her life and her deeds, but refrains from any sentence, including death. Jesus does not condemn. But while some might think that Jesus is now overturning God’s righteous commandments, he adds, “Go, and from now on do not sin any more.” She is freed of condemnation, but invited to take up a new and holy life.

So once more, we reflect on this during our Lenten journey. Several things we do know. First is that our Lord does know of our sins, our failings, and, at times, our lack of mercy. We gather here having done that which is evil in God’s sight. But then comes the words from the One who will make a later crossing of the Kidron on his way to the cross. In Christ, we are not condemned to death. And we along with the woman hear the further declaration from our Lord. “Go, and from now

on do not sin anymore.”

One other item as we make this Kidron Valley crossing with Jesus. Here at this Mass, we have joined in the Penitential Act and sought God’s forgiveness. And we hear these words: "May almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins, and bring us to everlasting life.” We will ask our Lord for mercy and join in the Holy Meal. Through the power of the Holy Spirit we share Christ’s peace with each other and feast on the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation. Jesus’ words echo throughout the liturgy, “Go, now and do not sin anymore.” Thanks be to

God.

Amen.

Shortening a Narrative Homily

In its present state, this homily is perhaps longer than desired for a homily at Mass. One strategy for modestly abbreviating a narrative homily is that of “Reach.” In this case, the preacher may set aside the present Introduction whose purpose is to connect the first of these “Kidron Crossings” with the final one leading to Jesus arrest, passion, and crucifixion. Then, with this material being deleted, we can treat the entire first scene of the Johannine narrative as an Introduction. So, the “Reached” Introduction begins with “White teaching in the Temple” and ends with “An ugly matter indeed.”

Some of the material in this new Introduction may also be trimmed a bit. (Perhaps the elaboration on a “moral superiority” that obtains for such stone

throwers may be deleted.) Then, the body of the homily begins with the reflective move that seeks to contemporize the dynamics of stone throwing. Of course the homilist may add or delete examples provided by this preacher. It will be best to offer either one or three such contemporary examples of stone throwing. (Doublet examples do not function well in communal address/preaching.) The rest of the scenes in the narrative follow in order within the homily. But with the new Reach into the story, a briefer outcome may be achieved.