Last week we heard about a wild child whose self-destructive behavior ended up sending him right back into the arms of his father. This week, John tells us the same story with different characters. In this account, self-righteous people figure they can ensnare Jesus between fidelity to tradition and mercy. 

First, a look at tradition. The Hebrew scriptures give a rather mixed message on the question of prostitution, but the strict law demanded that adultery be proven and then punished by death — for both of the people involved (Deuteronomy 20:10). In that light, the group testing Jesus was rather remiss: they did not bring witnesses, nor, most pointedly, did they bring the man who should have been stoned with her. 

When the morality posse pushed Jesus to pronounce a judgment, he refused — just as he would when Pilate demanded an answer (John 19:9). Instead of letting himself be caught in their trap, Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger. The point of this gesture has little to do with what he wrote, but rather how he did it. His antagonists were talking about the law, and they all knew that their law came from the finger of God (Exodus 31:18). Jesus demonstrated his authority over the law and refused to condemn the woman. 

Then, in a marvelous, merciful turning of the tables, Jesus confronted the accusers, inviting anyone who had never sinned to begin the stoning. As soon as prayerful people would have heard that, Psalm 130:3 could have come to mind: "If you, Lord, mark iniquity, Lord, who can stand?" In spite of the theatrical scene they had contrived, no one dared make a public declaration that they were sinless; the others knew them far too well. What an embarrassment!  Their righteousness boomeranged.  

The woman in this story was nameless and had been treated as an object from the time the scene opened. The accusers barely paid her any attention. They used her as nothing more than a prop, disregarding her personhood. Yet Jesus dealt with them as human beings. He didn't retort or defend either himself or her. One can only imagine the look on his face when he dusted off his finger and stood up to look them in the eye. Did he look angry or did he gaze on each of them with compassion? Which would have been harder on them, reprimand or benevolence? (Think of the father greeting his wayward son with love that didn't even mention the words sin or forgiveness.)  

John tells us that after the troupe disappeared, Jesus "straightened her up" and, perhaps with a  great grin, he asked her, "Where are they?  Has no one condemned you?" She replied, "No one, Lord."  

What a declaration! Standing before the man she called Lord, she herself proclaimed that no one condemned her. At that moment she could understand Isaiah's  joyful proclamation, "Thus says the Lord who opens a way in the sea . . . Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing a new thing."   

Note that Jesus did not ask her to repent before he said, "Neither do I condemn you." The very experience of his care for her would bring about her metanoia. After this, she knew her own value and was beyond selling herself out for anyone, especially anyone who would abandon her as her illicit partner had obviously done. She had also experienced a mercy too great to keep to herself. Like the woman at the well (John 4), love would impel her to become an evangelizer. 

St. Paul knew the same truth she had discovered. He admitted he had no righteousness of his own. Everything he was flowed from "the supreme good of knowing Christ Jesus." Because of that, no title or prestige was worth more than dung — literally. Both Paul and this woman could humbly glory in knowing they were loved beyond all reason.  

As we move toward Holy Week, these readings invite us to approach the mysteries with eyes ready to perceive God's love working through everything — even the worst events imaginable. At every moment, God is doing something new. We're invited to recognize its springing forth. 

These Scriptures suggest that God does not mark iniquity. Like Jesus raising this woman up or the father putting a ring on his errant son's finger, God's focus is on the future, on what can happen, not what is over and done. That's what Jesus meant by saying, "Go, and from now on, sin no more."   

Let us pray that we can approach this Holy Week ready to perceive God's invitation to "sin no more," as an invitation to be ambassadors set on fire by God's creative love and mercy. 

Four topics emerge from this Sunday's readings: celebration, reconciliation, God and compassion. The first, celebration, emerges from the reading taken from the book of Joshua that features the Israelites celebrating the eight-day Jewish holiday of Passover. This celebration is one of Judaism's most sacred events. It commemorates the Israelites' liberation from slavery in Egypt and the sparing of the Israelites' firstborn child when the "angel of death" passes over the Israelite community en route to striking dead all the firstborn among the Egyptians.

Agriculturally, Passover represents the beginning of Israel's harvest season, a time when the people enjoyed the plentiful produce of the land. But for parts of Israel today, the season of Passover does not usher in a lush harvest season. For years, a severe, historic drought and a water crisis have gripped Israel, affecting irrigation capabilities that, in turn, impact agriculture and ecosystems. Even though some efforts have helped to ease the water crisis, the land continues to suffer under ecological oppression caused by environmental factors, namely, climate change. And yet, in the midst of ecological adversity, the celebration of Passover continues in anticipation of an end to all forms of oppression plaguing the world today.

The second topic, reconciliation, is the main theme of the reading from 2 Corinthians. Here we are reminded that the Divine One remains reconciled to us, and in turn, we have been entrusted with the message of reconciliation. But what does reconciliation mean, and why is it important?

In his book The Art of Forgiveness, Lovingkindness, and Peace, Jack Kornfield offers wisdom from the Buddhist tradition. He states: "In Buddhist monasteries when conflict arises, the monks and nuns are encouraged to undertake a formal practice of reconciliation. They begin with this simple intention: 'No matter what the hurt within us, we can seek to be reconciled. Even if we cannot or should not speak to the other, we can find the courage to hold reconciliation and goodwill in our own heart. We can do our part toward the healing of the world.' " Reconciliation aims to repair and restore relationships. 

Without a doubt, our world is in need of healing of interpersonal relationships, whether these relationships be among family members, co-workers, friends and even heads of state and leaders of nations. Sanctions, tariffs, cold war tactics, peace treaties and ceasefires are merely temporary solutions to conflicts, disagreements and inequities. With wisdom gained and intelligence developed, with gifts and talents in play alongside good fortune of wealth, power and negotiating skills, human beings have yet to learn how to live and work with each other in a spirit of fecundity, respect, trust, mutual accountability and integrity. 

But today's reading goes one step further. It is not enough to be a messenger of reconciliation. We are encouraged to be reconciled to God. 

The third topic emerging from the reading from 2 Corinthians is "God." Perhaps before we can be reconciled to God, we need to ask: Who is this God, this Divine One? Is it the God of the empire whom we meet in the prophetic texts, this God who curses and harms people when they are not "obedient"? Is it the God of Gomer who metes out the harshest of chastisements because she has been cast as an "unfaithful" spouse, a whore? Or maybe this God is a gendered male deity who sits on a throne, a king, casting judgments and ruling over all. Perhaps this God is the "Lord," a title derived from ancient biblical agrarian societies that had landlords and serfs. 

New Testament scholar Sandra Schneiders of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary of Monroe, Michigan, argues that the question for the 21st century is the "God question" — who or what is God? (See her essay "God Is the Question and God is the Answer" in Spiritual Questions for the Twenty-First Century.) Old Testament scholar Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza pushes Schneiders' ideas further. She argues that we need to interrogate how the scriptural rhetoric of empire has defined our understanding of the Divine (see "The Rhetoric of Empire and G*d Talk: Decolonizing the Divine" in The Power of the Word: Scripture and the Rhetoric of Empire). How we understand the Divine impacts how we live out our lives, how we interact with others and how we make political, social, economic and ecological decisions.

The parable in today's Gospel offers us an insight into who the Divine One is, even though we can never fully comprehend. The Divine One is Compassion, the fourth point that emerges from today's readings. This Sacred One reconciles, heals broken relationships, welcomes and cherishes all creation. Being reconciled to the God of compassion is bound to have a transformative effect on the one who is reconciled who, in turn, will be not only a messenger of reconciliation but also the embodiment of it.