Third Sunday in Lent
March 3, 2024

When God Is in the Room

Tom Are Jr.
Interim Pastor

Psalm 139:1–10
John 8:1–11

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When I traveled in Israel, one of the things that struck me is how in so many places there are so many stones. They are everywhere. It brings to mind the Jewish practice of gathering stones as altars, to mark a spot where God did something, a way to remind ourselves that in this particular place God made things different.

The earliest manuscripts of John’s Gospel do not include the story of this woman. Johannine scholar Frances Maloney calls this story an “intrusion” into the Gospel of John. But in the early church, as the Gospel was copied by hand, time and again scribes kept inserting this story in various places in the Gospel — writing it in. They kept squeezing it in, until later copies provided a resting place here at the beginning of the eighth chapter (Frances J. Moloney, SBD, The Gospel of John, p. 259). Were it not for the persistence of the early church, we would have never known this moment with Jesus.

It’s not an easy story to read. This may be why the gurus of the lectionary left this passage out. It’s hard to read, because we view women with more value than was shared in ancient culture. This woman, who is forced to stand before the crowds publicly shamed and threatened with capital punishment, stands accused as an adulteress, caught in the very act. We don’t know more, but if we did, we might know about the man she was with. But he’s not mentioned. He has either gone home or perhaps is part of the crowd with a rock in his hand. The irony is that the misogyny of these religious leaders comes into clear focus as a result of their pursuit of righteousness — their fidelity to the law of Moses.

If our love for God results in injury to our neighbor, then some rethinking is required regarding our love for God.

The religious leaders came to Jesus to test him. They are trying to create some distance between Jesus’ vision of life and the teaching of Moses. The law of Moses determines right and wrong. It is God’s law. If they could find some daylight between Jesus and Moses, they could discredit Jesus.

In this circumstance, the law of Moses requires a woman to be put to death. It’s recorded both in Deuteronomy 22:22–24 and Leviticus 20:10. In case you haven’t read Leviticus this week — and it is possible to still have a good week even if you don’t read Leviticus — both Leviticus and Deuteronomy declare she should be stoned to death.

The theology behind this law is the conviction that you deal with evil by purging evil from your midst. You deal with unrighteousness by expunging it from the righteous. Exile them from the village or put them to death. But separate the unrighteous from the righteous.

That may seem archaic to you, but it is actually quite common. We often hear voices that assume the best way to get to a better day is just to get rid of those folks who are the problem.

Last Sunday I arrived early for worship and noticed that the Celebrate Black History flag that was flying from our flagpole had been stolen. I am a bit mystified as to why it offends someone for us to fly a flag that simply seeks to insist on the dignity of people who for far too long and in far too many ways have had their dignity denied. You can take our flag, but you will not dissuade our desire to be a community that sees the God-given dignity for all people. I’m sure whoever stole that flag believed they were doing something honorable, standing up for all Americans or real Americans — they probably had some noble narrative they told themselves.

But if your pursuit of the good does damage to your neighbor, you have some rethinking to do.

This assumption that we can become righteous by purging certain people from us is commonplace. A question was posed this week to Oklahoma State Senator Tom Woods regarding the hostile positions toward the LGBTQIA+ community. Woods responded (and I apologize for the offensiveness of his language), but the senator said, “We are going to fight to keep that filth out of the State of Oklahoma because we are a Christian state” (Clytie Buyan, “Oklahoma’s Real Moral Crisis,” The Oklahoman).

My word. That is calling the darkness light and the light darkness. I simply can’t wrap my head around Senator Woods’ understanding of the gospel. If your love for God is bad news for your neighbors, then some rethinking is in order.

But before we cast stones, let us remember that voices dehumanizing an “other” find acceptance on both the right and the left.

The religious leaders cite the law to Jesus, and the law is clear — or is it?

If it were so clear, why would they think this would be a hard test? Ah, this is the thing about laws: they are written with words, and words always have to be interpreted. Which means they are not always clear.

There are some who pretend that language can avoid interpretation. That language just says what it says. This is the approach taken by religious fundamentalists who read scripture literally. We also see this among judicial fundamentalists who read the Constitution literally, pretending that language need not be interpreted, just read. But that doesn’t really work.

Carol and I had moved into our first house. I was trying to make our early attic furniture fit in our new space when the doorbell rang. It was a neighbor welcoming us with a Bundt cake. She apologized that it was cold. She had come by earlier with it fresh from the oven, but no one was home. I said yes, I had run to the grocery store. She sat the cake on our kitchen table, and that is when she saw the note Carol left me while I was at the store. It simply read “I’m at the hospital.”

My neighbor looked at me and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude; you need to go.” I said, “Oh, no, I’ve got all day. Sit down and tell me about yourself.” She said, “Oh no, I couldn’t. I should be going.” She looked at me with a look of confusion as she left.

It was then that I saw the note. Carol is a nurse. I interpreted the note to mean she had been called into work. But my new neighbor interpreted that she had just encountered the most callous of husbands, whose wife was hospitalized from injury or illness and rather than choosing to be by her side was opting for cold Bundt cake with a stranger.

“I’m at the hospital.” None of these are hard vocabulary words, but they still must be interpreted. Language functions just that way. Particularly language that speaks of God and God’s ways. Our language is too small to fully contain God. All of our language, including the language of scripture, is too small to hold the fullness of God.

I point this out because I believe our religious leaders know this already. They have already done some interpreting.

The law that they cite requires that this woman be stoned but also that the man who was with her should be stoned to death as well. Huh. How do you suppose they missed that? Well, we know. There is a long history of punishing women more harshly than men.

But behind this patriarchy was some thinking. Some rethinking.

These religious leaders knew that the law required the man to be put to death, that they just couldn’t do it. Somehow in their souls it just didn’t seem right.

I wonder if they are questioning the law again. Maybe this is also why they came to Jesus.

“Jesus, the law of Moses demands that she be put to death. What do you say?”

Jesus kneels down and draws in the dust. What is that? He does it twice, so it must mean something, but what?

Some say he is just allowing the moment to take a breath. Just let the emotion calm. That’s wise.

Some say it is a snub. Jesus refuses to dignify their question with a response. Maybe.

Some have speculated that Jesus is writing out the sins of the men standing before him. That’s a little passive-aggressive, I think.

I wonder if he rubs his fingers in the dirt to remind them that all of us have a little dirt on our hands. No one is pure. If you are trying to deal with unrighteousness by separating the unrighteous from the righteous, well, it won’t be long before we are all on the wrong side of the line.

Jesus says, “You who are without sin, you stone this woman.”

If you can stand pure before God, then cast away.

With dirt on his fingers, he reminds them that when we remember God is in the room, then none of us can really claim to be righteous.

You who are pure, go ahead, destroy her.

But they can’t do it. One by one, they dropped their rocks, leaving them there on the ground like an altar marking the spot where God changed them. They could not stone this woman. The law required it, but they couldn’t do it. It wasn’t in them.

I have to admit, I find that reaction surprising.

I mean they already had the stones in their hands. The testosterone had to be racing. And Jesus says, “Well, we all make mistakes,” and they change their minds?

If you are without sin, cast your stone.

Wow, Jesus, great point. I hadn’t thought of that before. I know the law of Moses says she should be stoned, but gosh, maybe I have not been thinking progressively enough about this. You have really given me something to think about, Jesus. Hey guys, let’s just drop these rocks here. Who’s up for ice cream?

I don’t think so.

I wonder if they seek Jesus out because there is a part of them that is no longer comfortable with this, and they hope Jesus can give them a different way to think about this.

I say this because they are leaving behind more than the stones in their hands, They are rethinking their own understanding of righteousness and unrighteousness. Like newborns, they are pushed into a new day. A day when not only this woman but maybe this is the day when it is no longer OK to stone any woman. We just won’t do that anymore.

That is the way it is with us. Righteousness is never grasped; it is always pursued. God’s tomorrow will always question the assumption of our yesterdays.

God is always in the room. Remember that, and it’s hard to make the case of how righteous we are. Rethinking what it is to be faithful is a constant practice in our discipleship.

But ironically, remembering that God is in the room is the best chance we have of being a little more righteous than we were yesterday.

That’s why they dropped those stones, like an unorganized altar to mark the spot that God changed them.

You know, we never know when that might happen to us. When what we assumed was faithful yesterday is all of a sudden recognized as something that must be rethought. We too can find ourselves dropping a rock or two to mark the spot where God changes us.

It can happen. Thanks be to God, it can happen.

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Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church