Loving Kindness, Radical Welcome
The Bible has come to us through a long string of God-ordained and unprecedented events. We do not have any copies of the original writing of any book of the Bible. What we do have is hundreds and hundreds of copies of the books, each with their own slight differences and variations due to the copying, translation, and alteration of the originally written text. That’s part of why we have dozens of English translations of the Bible because each committee who created those translations has a different philosophy on how to handle all of the Scriptures that we have, including how to translate and honor the different variations in the oldest copies of the text. The Scriptures have been copied, translated, preserved, and brought together over a long process of diligent work by faithful Christians and the intervention of the Lord. Oftentimes in Baptist life, we like to talk about the Scriptures as inspired, and usually, we refer to the writing of the text itself. We believe that the Holy Spirit guided the authors to write what we find in this book, whether He word-for-word dictated it or led thought-for-thought is up for disagreement, but we can all agree that God inspired the writing of the Bible. If God inspired the writing of the Bible, then I would propose that we also must believe that He inspired the collection, copies, translations, and canonization of the sixty-six books that make up our Bible as well. I don’t think we talk about that enough, the fact that God not only inspired authors to write these words but He also performed a miracle in history by preserving, distributing, copying, collecting, and giving us this Holy Book. There is quite literally nothing like it in history, no book has a tenth as much of the ancient copies as the Bible has.
I lead with this to say there are a couple of places in our New Testament where a portion of the text is not believed to be part of the original writing. John 7 is one such piece of Scripture. Many of your Bibles will have footnotes or brackets to let you know that this text is not present in the earliest manuscripts of John’s Gospel. That means that the oldest copies we have of John do not include the verses we are going to discuss. For some, this might disqualify this story or make it “less important” than the rest of the book. This might be the first time that you’ve heard that there are discrepancies in the Biblical text, and it might freak you out a little bit to know that there’s something in our English Bible that most scholars believe hasn’t always been there. But I want to assure you: if God inspired not only the writing of the Bible, but the preservation, collection, canonization, and translation of the Scriptures, I believe we have this story in our copy of John’s Gospel for a reason. I believe God, in His wisdom and power, has inspired this story and placed it before us because, like the rest of Scripture, it reveals who God is and who we are as humans. I believe that just because these verses may not have been part of John’s original writing, they are equally as valid and important for us as the rest of the book. Some pastors or theologians might disagree with me, but that’s where I stand on it. Let’s read, now, the verses as we find them in our text:
7:53 They went each to his own house, 8:1 but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. 2 Early in the morning he came again to the temple. All the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them. 3 The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst 4 they said to him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. 5 Now in the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” 6 This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. 7 And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” 8 And once more he bent down and wrote on the ground. 9 But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. 10 Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” 11 She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.”
I can’t imagine what it was like for this woman on that day. I can’t comprehend the horror of having a group of men storm into the darkroom during such a personal and intimate moment. I can’t begin to feel the shame she endured as the men dragged her naked body through the dirt streets and into the temple, the most reverent and sacred place in Israel’s world. I can’t fathom the thoughts that must’ve been going through her head—the sadness and the trauma and the fear that must’ve been swirling inside her. As the scribes and Pharisees toss her fragile and trembling body before Jesus, I can’t imagine her desperation to cover herself as best she could manage while curled into the fetal position, completely exposed and vulnerable. She is at the mercy of the men in the room. She has no voice of her own and no rights as she buries her head into the floor and weeps streams of tears onto the ground.
Reading this text, I am haunted by the human capacity for cruelty. I get angry with the men in this story for what they do to this woman. How dare they put their hands on her violently. How dare they expose her fear and her body like that. And if you’re a good reader, what you’ll notice is that they don’t bring the man she was sleeping with before Jesus as well. Even though their law says both the man and the woman should be stoned, they only brought the woman—they choose to prey on the one who is weaker and less able to defend herself. Or perhaps, more likely, their culture didn’t bat an eye at a man committing adultery but was quick to shame a promiscuous woman. Sound familiar?
As I observe this situation, feeling deep pain for the woman and deep anger for the scribes and Pharisees, I first must recognize that the human capacity for cruelty isn’t limited to folks in the Bible, villains in a Disney movie, Islamic terrorists overseas, or racist mass shooters in America. That same capacity for cruelness—for hatred, for animus, for violence, for evil—exists inside of me. I have the capability to harm people, to shame people, and to selfishly manipulate people for my own gain.
Our human nature is utterly fascinating. On one hand, all men and women are created in the image of Almighty God, and that makes each of us inherently beautiful, valuable, and good. Yet, on the other hand, all men and women are born with a bent towards sin, with an inclination to live selfishly and foolishly, and with an instinct to use others instead of serving neighbors. In his letters to the early Church, Paul refers to this dichotomy as a battle of God’s Spirit against the flesh. He reminds us that if we count on human nature to be good, we’re going to be disappointed. Because ultimately, you and I, if left unchecked, will choose ourselves over others.
I am haunted by the human capacity for cruelty. Have there been times in your life where you, like these men, have had no regard for someone else’s situation? Have you willingly walked into situations where you harmed someone only to benefit yourself? Have you judged other people for their sins to make yourself feel better about your own vices? Maybe some of you have been even crueler than that. Maybe some in here have physically harmed people, verbally abused people, or taken advantage of someone who could not defend themselves. I pray that, in the name of Jesus, all of us would denounce our flesh and repent from our evil ways. The capacity for cruelty portrayed in this story is horrifying, and it exists inside each one of us.
I’m reminded this morning that in our most vulnerable, shameful, terrifying, and helpless moments, the Son of God is on our side. I hate to jump to the end of the story already because we have other observations to make before we conclude, but as we read, Jesus is the one man in the room who doesn’t see the woman for her sin, shame, fear, or nakedness. He sees a precious daughter of God who’s been abused, traumatized, and belittled; and from the start of this story, He is on her side.
We’ve all been through moments where we felt completely alone, exposed, or ashamed, and we can rest assured that Jesus is with us in those moments. But I want to take this a step further. This woman, in this instance, has been assaulted by these men. Statistics tell me that one in five women in this country has been sexually assaulted. One in three women and one in four men have experienced some form of physical violence by an intimate partner. Because I want to talk real life and I don’t just want to share statistics, let me share with you that I’m one of those four men. I have been physically harmed by a girlfriend during a relationship. The church doesn’t talk nearly enough about these issues and this morning, I won’t linger there for the sake of being edgy, but I feel led by the Spirit of God to say that if you’ve ever been a victim of any form of assault, you are not an object, you are not a failure, you are innocent, and you are not alone.
Jesus Christ was and is on your side and does not hold it against you. He does not cast shame upon you, in fact, He holds you highly as a daughter or son of God. Not only is He with you, but there are others in this room who’ve been through similar attacks. You are safe and you are loved in this place. Part of why God ordained this story to be in our Scriptures is to clearly illustrate that the Lord is on the side of those who are abused, attacked, and harmed by assault. As a church, we, too, must be diligently and loudly against all forms of assault, and we must support and love those who are victims.
So although the men who bring her before Jesus are part of the religious elite, they are guilty in their own sin, though they fail to see it. They have given themselves over to the flesh, to their evil desires, to their capacity for cruelty, and they have no clue just how screwed up and flawed their priorities are. They believe if they follow the letter of the law, regardless of their methodology or heart, they’re doing well. So they throw this woman before Jesus, and they ask him a seemingly simple question, “Jesus, the law says we should stone her; what do you say?”
They don’t care what Jesus actually has to say. They’re trying to pit Him against Moses. But what they don’t realize is that Jesus has been teaching His disciples that all laws and commands and rules fall under one overarching God-given mandate: Love God with everything you have, and love others with a self-sacrificing love. The Pharisees and scribes might have the letter of the law memorized, but they are blinded to Jesus, the Giver of the Law. They might know right from wrong in a legal sense, but they are ignorant concerning the battle of the Spirit vs. the flesh. They don’t just have sin in their everyday lives, but they have committed atrocious sin against this woman under the pompous guise of religious duty, and they don’t recognize the Creator of the Universe who sits before them. The Lawgiver, Jesus, holds no hatred or malice towards the woman, but I imagine in this instance He was quite angry with the religious men who assaulted her and acted like she deserved to be naked on the cold floor. It only served to reveal how cold their hearts had become under the guise of religious piety.
Our religion can make us cold-hearted if we let it. If we view our faith as a set of rules, a list of commandments, a church attendance chart, or a staple of political beliefs, we can quickly become blinded and calloused by our pride and self-righteousness; before too long, we begin to treat others with cruelness instead of kindness. In what areas has our Christianity puffed us up in pride and led us to coldly ostracize those who are different than us? Have you used your faith to rationalize a negative judgment of others? If your faith doesn’t lead you towards viewing all people as loved by God, regardless of their background, beliefs, religion, skin tone, country of origin, sexuality, or political affiliation, you too are blinded to the Son of God. All people—all people—are loved by their Creator. You, then, if you proclaim to follow Christ, should treat all people as such.
Jesus doesn’t dignify the question asked of him with a response. Jesus stoops down next to the woman and begins to write or draw in the dust. The text doesn’t tell us what the Lord is etching on the ground, and I find it unhealthy to speculate or guess on the content of his tracing. The important thing to note is that Jesus doesn’t give the religious men an answer. I imagine Him looking at the ground, running his finger through the dirt, and refusing to acknowledge the cruel men or their backhanded query. He loves them just like He loves the woman, but He knows what they need in this moment is a check on their pride, not an extended hand of grace. So the Christ refuses to field their question, and surely that made the Pharisees and scribes all the angrier.
They press the issue. The text says they “continued to ask Him.” I don’t know how long this went on or how many times they repeated their question, but they pressed in around Jesus and the woman and angrily raised their voices. They pestered Him and refused to back down. They didn’t want a more righteous understanding of the law, they wanted blood. They wanted an excuse to pick up rocks and hurl them at this vulnerable woman. They continue in their cruelty, their savagery, and their malice. Jesus, patient and composed, scribbles in the dirt. The religious men continue to demand a response from Him.
Finally, Jesus rises to His feet. I wish I could’ve seen the look in His eyes. The men asked Him a law question; Jesus turns it into a sin question. He says, “If you haven’t sinned, also, go ahead and stone her.” What’s ironic about this is that, according to Jesus, the only one in the room who has permission to throw a stone is Himself, the Christ who is, indeed, without sin. Notice that Jesus doesn’t justify the woman’s sin. He simply asks the religious men to be honest about their own sin, their own fleshly desires and pride. He asks them to recognize that the gap between this sexually deviant woman and themselves is slim, in fact, it’s non-existent. Both the woman and the men who’ve brought her here are guilty. According to the law, they all deserve death. And so the men, somewhat astonishingly, recognize the Truth in the words of the Teacher and they all walk away and leave the woman with Jesus.
We, too, all deserve to be separated from God in physical and spiritual death. You know all too well the capacity for evil that exists inside of you, and the times you’ve acted upon that sinful nature. I know I do. I don’t stand before you today as one who is “better” or “more righteous” than you, I stand here as a man equally guilty, equally embarrassed by my sinfulness, and equally capable of evil. We, then, like the Pharisees and scribes, cannot cast stones at others. We cannot throw judgment or hatred towards those with whom we disagree, or those who are living in sin. The truth is, we all exist on the same playing field; we are all unworthy of a relationship with the Creator, and we all deserve to bear the consequences and the shame of our own sinfulness.
But watch what Jesus does for this woman. Yes, this woman has sinned, but she’s also gone through hell today. Yes, she is guilty, but she has been unfairly mistreated for her failures. So Jesus looks at her in the way that a good Father looks at his daughter; He sees her mistakes, and He forgives her. He sees the damage that others have done to her, and He offers healing and safety. He sees a precious human being created in the image of God, and He offers unconditional love. “Woman, has no one condemned you?” She looks around, astonished that her assailants have left, and replies with tearful joy, “No one, Lord.” Notice that Jesus is the only person who actually speaks to this woman, and allows her to speak back, and in doing so he gives her back her dignity and her voice—something the religious men refused to do. “Neither do I. Go, and sin no more.”
In this moment, a woman who has made mistakes has been forgiven and forever changed. A woman who was a pawn in an argument has been given her dignity and voice. A woman who has been assaulted, abused, and used has been seen, loved, and welcomed into a family. For the first time in her life she is set free, she is given a purpose, she is told that she has inherent value. And the angels in heaven are throwing a party because a sheep who was astray has been found and brought back into the flock of the Good Shepherd, Jesus.
We, too, the people of God, have been saved and redeemed by Jesus Christ. We, too, stand free from condemnation, though according to “the law” we deserve to die. The questions before us as we go forward are simple but challenging: will we throw sinners before God in judgment, or will we extend a hand of grace? Will we take advantage of those in our world who are vulnerable, or will we offer them refuge? Will we give in to our capacity to be cruel, or will we allow God to shape us into people who are gentle, kind, and loving? Will we go and live in sin no more, or will we allow religious pride to blanket our sinfulness? Will we welcome outsiders into our family, or in our callous put up walls between “us” and “them”? Which will we choose to value more: laws, or people—rules, or stories?
May the loving kindness, radical welcome, and boundless grace of Jesus extend to us all and out from us all. Amen.
