Tomorrow's sermon
Mar. 20th, 2010 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chrishansenhomeMarch 21, 2010 Fifth Sunday of Lent
Sermon delivered at St. John the Evangelist, 10 am.
Readings: Isaiah 43:16-21; Ps. 125; Philippians 3:8-14; John 8:1-11
“When they heard this, they went away one by one, beginning with the eldest...”
In the name of God, the one, the Undivided Trinity. AMEN.
The history of capital punishment has been a constant search through the centuries for a more humane way of inflicting death upon people who break the law. Stoning is a pretty brutal way of dying, we would think. However, in contradistinction to other ancient ways of lawfully killing someone, it has the advantage of at least being relatively quick. Crucifixion, the Roman method of punishing non-Roman citizens, could take days to be effective, depending on the stamina of the convicted person. We had hanging then for many centuries—indeed, in some countries it is still the method of execution. What would be quicker than the drop?
In France before the Revolution the guillotine was invented as perhaps the quickest method of execution available. There indeed is a museum exhibition in Paris at the moment showing the last working guillotine ever used.
Today in those places in the United States where execution is still a possible penalty, we have lethal injections or, in at least one state, a firing squad.
We are all part of the story we hear in the Gospel today, and we play many parts.
Some of us are scribes and Pharisees. You may think of them as malicious meddlesome men who persecuted Jesus and the disciples throughout his ministry. Indeed, in this story they wish to trap him into either condemning the woman to death, or letting her go. On the one hand, they could say that Jesus was no different from the many prophets who had gone before—just a regular Jewish man, not someone special. On the other hand, were he to let the woman go, they could condemn him as someone who willfully violated the laws of Scripture and thought that the Biblical punishment of stoning was not applicable in this case.
Some of us might be the woman. Now think about it: she was “caught in the very act of adultery”. How more embarrassing and upsetting could this be? The crowd of scribes and Pharisees had likely been tipped off that something was going on and mobbed the house, her own home, and broken into the bedchamber. The man, who was in our eyes equally guilty, is nowhere in evidence in this story. Could they have stoned him already? Oh, no, they hadn’t. The man was not equally criminally responsible when caught in such a position. He had been let go, possibly even without a warning.
The woman was then dragged out into the open, and brought to Jesus by this unruly mob which demanded of the Teacher what he had to say about the matter. Should she be executed or not?
I’m certain that the woman was in no doubt that a man as righteous as Jesus would side with the mob. She was ready to die.
Perhaps some of us will identify with Jesus. It is very interesting that as soon as the question is put to him, Jesus begins writing on the ground with his finger. This is the only recorded instance of Jesus ever writing anything at all. Personally, I think he was stalling for time while he considered how to react.
I wonder if he was thinking of part of our reading from Isaiah today: “No need to recall the past, no need to think about what was done before. See, I am doing a new deed!” Stoning for adultery or other transgressions was part of the past. No need to think about death for a sin like this. Jesus was about to do a new deed.
Scribes and Pharisees, by their very nature, were righteous people. They conducted themselves according to the Law of Moses and were never caught in a transgression. No eating pork, no adultery, no murder, no working on the Sabbath. And yet, it seems that even they knew that, in their hearts, they were sinners.
Think about the people in this story with whom you identified when I talked about it just now. When Jesus said, “Let the one who has not sinned cast the first stone.” thinking as the woman, how would you feel. Your eyes closed, you would have stood there waiting for that first blow that would have knocked you to the ground. You would have thought, “The teacher has condemned me, just as the rest of the mob has condemned me.” Waiting for the stone, waiting for pain and death. Waiting.
And yet, no stone comes out of the crowd. The normal crowd sounds begin to fade as, one by one, those who have accused you slink away. The silence is deafening in your ears as the blood rushes through them.
Finally, you open your eyes and the crowd has disappeared. Jesus is still writing in the sand at his feet. The stones that the mob carried with them to kill you lay on the ground, abandoned as they left.
Jesus says to you, “Where are they? Has no one condemned you?” You stammer “No one.” and the Teacher says gently, “Neither do I condemn you. Sin no more.”
Now in Lent the moral of this story seems to be clear: Sin no more. But I think that the moral of this story is deeper than that. The crowd of people condemns lots of us for various things we do.
The hangers and floggers of society feel that it is their privilege, their duty even, to condemn those who have broken the law and sinned publicly. They are not content until the transgressor has yet again come to grief, or has even died. “Got what’s coming to him.” they think. The only thing that satisfies them is obliteration.
Jesus says something different: Punishment for sin is not the privilege of any living person. No matter what the Law of Moses said, we are all, to a greater or lesser extent, sinners. If one sinner is punished, should not all be punished?
It is not within our competence to pronounce anyone a sinner—not in the least degree. Gossip, innuendo, slander, libel—these are just as deadly as a pile of stones ready to execute a woman in Judea early in the first century. But, they are deadly to us.
I ask that we think of times that we have carried the stones of gossip and slander within our hearts and on our lips. Do not condemn anyone, even someone who has committed the grossest of crimes. We too can be condemned for our own sins by the stones carried by other people against us.
In Lent, do a new deed. Drop your stones of condemnation on the ground and leave the place of sentence. Be like the woman who found no one left to condemn her; go and sin no more.
AMEN.
Sermon delivered at St. John the Evangelist, 10 am.
Readings: Isaiah 43:16-21; Ps. 125; Philippians 3:8-14; John 8:1-11
“When they heard this, they went away one by one, beginning with the eldest...”
In the name of God, the one, the Undivided Trinity. AMEN.
The history of capital punishment has been a constant search through the centuries for a more humane way of inflicting death upon people who break the law. Stoning is a pretty brutal way of dying, we would think. However, in contradistinction to other ancient ways of lawfully killing someone, it has the advantage of at least being relatively quick. Crucifixion, the Roman method of punishing non-Roman citizens, could take days to be effective, depending on the stamina of the convicted person. We had hanging then for many centuries—indeed, in some countries it is still the method of execution. What would be quicker than the drop?
In France before the Revolution the guillotine was invented as perhaps the quickest method of execution available. There indeed is a museum exhibition in Paris at the moment showing the last working guillotine ever used.
Today in those places in the United States where execution is still a possible penalty, we have lethal injections or, in at least one state, a firing squad.
We are all part of the story we hear in the Gospel today, and we play many parts.
Some of us are scribes and Pharisees. You may think of them as malicious meddlesome men who persecuted Jesus and the disciples throughout his ministry. Indeed, in this story they wish to trap him into either condemning the woman to death, or letting her go. On the one hand, they could say that Jesus was no different from the many prophets who had gone before—just a regular Jewish man, not someone special. On the other hand, were he to let the woman go, they could condemn him as someone who willfully violated the laws of Scripture and thought that the Biblical punishment of stoning was not applicable in this case.
Some of us might be the woman. Now think about it: she was “caught in the very act of adultery”. How more embarrassing and upsetting could this be? The crowd of scribes and Pharisees had likely been tipped off that something was going on and mobbed the house, her own home, and broken into the bedchamber. The man, who was in our eyes equally guilty, is nowhere in evidence in this story. Could they have stoned him already? Oh, no, they hadn’t. The man was not equally criminally responsible when caught in such a position. He had been let go, possibly even without a warning.
The woman was then dragged out into the open, and brought to Jesus by this unruly mob which demanded of the Teacher what he had to say about the matter. Should she be executed or not?
I’m certain that the woman was in no doubt that a man as righteous as Jesus would side with the mob. She was ready to die.
Perhaps some of us will identify with Jesus. It is very interesting that as soon as the question is put to him, Jesus begins writing on the ground with his finger. This is the only recorded instance of Jesus ever writing anything at all. Personally, I think he was stalling for time while he considered how to react.
I wonder if he was thinking of part of our reading from Isaiah today: “No need to recall the past, no need to think about what was done before. See, I am doing a new deed!” Stoning for adultery or other transgressions was part of the past. No need to think about death for a sin like this. Jesus was about to do a new deed.
Scribes and Pharisees, by their very nature, were righteous people. They conducted themselves according to the Law of Moses and were never caught in a transgression. No eating pork, no adultery, no murder, no working on the Sabbath. And yet, it seems that even they knew that, in their hearts, they were sinners.
Think about the people in this story with whom you identified when I talked about it just now. When Jesus said, “Let the one who has not sinned cast the first stone.” thinking as the woman, how would you feel. Your eyes closed, you would have stood there waiting for that first blow that would have knocked you to the ground. You would have thought, “The teacher has condemned me, just as the rest of the mob has condemned me.” Waiting for the stone, waiting for pain and death. Waiting.
And yet, no stone comes out of the crowd. The normal crowd sounds begin to fade as, one by one, those who have accused you slink away. The silence is deafening in your ears as the blood rushes through them.
Finally, you open your eyes and the crowd has disappeared. Jesus is still writing in the sand at his feet. The stones that the mob carried with them to kill you lay on the ground, abandoned as they left.
Jesus says to you, “Where are they? Has no one condemned you?” You stammer “No one.” and the Teacher says gently, “Neither do I condemn you. Sin no more.”
Now in Lent the moral of this story seems to be clear: Sin no more. But I think that the moral of this story is deeper than that. The crowd of people condemns lots of us for various things we do.
The hangers and floggers of society feel that it is their privilege, their duty even, to condemn those who have broken the law and sinned publicly. They are not content until the transgressor has yet again come to grief, or has even died. “Got what’s coming to him.” they think. The only thing that satisfies them is obliteration.
Jesus says something different: Punishment for sin is not the privilege of any living person. No matter what the Law of Moses said, we are all, to a greater or lesser extent, sinners. If one sinner is punished, should not all be punished?
It is not within our competence to pronounce anyone a sinner—not in the least degree. Gossip, innuendo, slander, libel—these are just as deadly as a pile of stones ready to execute a woman in Judea early in the first century. But, they are deadly to us.
I ask that we think of times that we have carried the stones of gossip and slander within our hearts and on our lips. Do not condemn anyone, even someone who has committed the grossest of crimes. We too can be condemned for our own sins by the stones carried by other people against us.
In Lent, do a new deed. Drop your stones of condemnation on the ground and leave the place of sentence. Be like the woman who found no one left to condemn her; go and sin no more.
AMEN.
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Date: 2010-03-21 08:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-21 09:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-21 09:26 pm (UTC)In one version of the story, someone in the crowd threw a stone, at which point Jesus said, "Cut that out, Mother!"