Hand of doom and Whisper of death

John 8:2-11

² Early in the morning he arrived again in the temple area, and all the people started coming to him, and he sat down and taught them. ³ Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery and made her stand in the middle. ⁴ They said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. ⁵ Now in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” ⁶ They said this to test him, so that they could have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger. ⁷ But when they continued asking him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” ⁸ Again he bent down and wrote on the ground. ⁹ And in response, they went away one by one, beginning with the elders. So he was left alone with the woman before him. ¹⁰ Then Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” ¹¹ She replied, “No one, sir.” Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, (and) from now on do not sin any more.”

We were terrified of old Fr. Widmer – especially the altar boys. If we messed up serving Mass we knew we would get “the look,” the narrowed eyes, the pursed lips. To us he seemed grumpy and unfriendly and we did all we could to avoid him – especially on the first Friday of every month. That was the day all the 5^th – 8^th graders at my Catholic elementary school went to Confession (it wasn’t called Reconciliation then). None of us, for sure, ever voluntarily went and stood in Fr. Widmer’s line because we were convinced that the experience would inevitably include a humiliating verbal thrashing. We were more than happy to let the few adults take our places.

However, one First Friday, the hand of doom touched my shoulder and the whisper of death sounded in my ear, “Go over to Fr. Widmer. There is no one in his line.” I wanted to run for my life, but sister’s grasp was too strong (besides, disobeying a nun - in church - about confession - can’t be a good thing). So, off I trudged, a condemned man of 12 years old who never even got that final meal that all condemned men are supposed to receive (that would be: roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob, vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup).

Yet, when I entered the confessional, I recognized the voice, but everything was strange. Instead of harshness and condemnation I experienced kindness and gentleness. Fr. Widmer engaged me in conversation, gently helping me look at what was behind my twelve-year-old sins (which have got to be pretty dull for the priest). For the first time in my brief life I experienced the incredible mercy and forgiveness of God. I left the confessional in shock - but every First Friday, from then on, I would go stand in Fr. Widmer’s line and look forward to experiencing love.

My experience with old Fr. Widmer was totally unexpected, unthinkable. In a small way (a VERY small way) it may have been similar to the experience of the woman in this passage from John. Here she is, face to face with a popular rabbi (not a good start) and hears the men quote the Law about the penalty for adultery – death by stoning. (The penalty, which was rarely, if ever applied, was the same for both parties. One wonders why only the woman was brought to Jesus). She hears them ask the rabbi to pronounce the sentence and she is terrified, panicked, hopeless. And then the rabbi bends down and begins writing in the dirt. Everyone knows what is happening. In the custom of the day, it signaled that the teacher was deeply pondering a student’s question.

It must have been a good sign for the accusers. “Ah, now we’ve got him. If he agrees with us then all his talk of God's mercy is just mumbo-jumbo and his credibility is as bad as a member of Congress. If he disagrees he is putting himself above the law – and his credibility is equally Congressional. We’ve got him either way - and we didn't even have to hack into his Twitter account!” (Okay, so maybe my historical timelines need a little work).

For the woman, the writing in the dirt must have seemed an agonizing eternity. But, out of the blue something new happens. An answer comes from the rabbi that could never have been imagined, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her!”

The tables are turned, the completely unexpected has happened. Jesus bends down once again to write in the dirt and it’s easy to imagine the silence enveloping that scene. And can you imagine the shock of unexpected hope that must have shot through this woman. In an instant the focus has shifted. Eyes that barely a moment ago were staring at her in arrogant contempt are now looking around in confusion, carefully avoiding any eye contact. After a few moments the silence remains – but it has changed. The accusers have drifted away, one by one, and the contempt and condemnation are transformed by the mercy of the one who remained. “Has no one condemned you ... … …neither do I.”

What she must have felt! She had come, for the first time, face to face with the mercy of God and felt the transforming, healing, and freeing love of God. And I am convinced that what Jesus offered this woman in the face of her sin and humiliation us what He offers to us. “Neither do I condemn you.” Do we dare believe it? Do we dare live in God’s mercy? Do we dare?