Monday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Lectionary: 251
Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you.
Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.”

Today’s gospel, like many passages, is deceptively simple. There is always more beneath the surface in the Gospel of Saint John. The Lord and the Evangelist know that. The characters in the story do not. The congregation that hears the story – you and I – might not.
Jesus’ remark to the woman – the only moment when he speaks to her – should trigger an immediate link: “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.”
Here is a mob eager to condemn both the woman and anyone who would defend her. Their religion is all about punishment of the wicked. They cannot imagine anyone’s not being eager to condemn. They have set up what appears to be an inescapable trap around the Lord and the woman. His yea or nay will trigger an immediate, fatal response.
But they are completely disarmed by Jesus’ mild response. He will not condemn. He doesn’t want to condemn. There is no point to it.
Occasionally I have met people who know what I am going to say before I say. And they hear me say it, although I didn’t. They learned their religion as children, perhaps in a Catholic school. They felt no further need for religious education and have learned nothing since. However, they have strong convictions about the way I should think, speak, and act; and firm convictions about my political and religious beliefs. It matters not whether they agree with my apparent opinions; they will not notice in either case.
Saint John tells us “the scribes and Pharisees” brought this accused woman to Jesus. He also tells us the mob “went away one by one, beginning with the elders.” Who are these people?
If the scene were played out in the twentieth or twenty-first century, I would imagine a gang of young, angry men. Their “elders” might be in their late twenties; they are hardened street fighters who have earned the respect of boys transitioning to manhood. The group operates with fear and shame; none can act alone without the support of his fellows. They dare not step outside the gang, though they will later accuse one another of fearing Jesus, and each will deny it.
They take pleasure in violence even as they insist, they prefer peace. They use violence only to do the right thing; and only when it’s necessary, which is often. They’re quite sure that right makes might; and justifies force. Their god is punitive and vindictive.
One by one they go away. Some to alcohol or drugs, some to prison, some to idle their last hours watching television.

The Spirit of God blows where it wills, and you can hear the sound it makes, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.

We dare not practice the religion of our times and culture, with its investments in power and righteousness, with its assurance that might makes right, and right is evident in its might. If we stoop like Jesus to care for the weak, ignored, and despised we can expect to be dismissed as he was. We can also hope to be raised up,