THE TEXT BELOW IS THE TRANSCRIPTION OF THE VIDEO COMMENTARY BY FR. FERNANDO ARMELLINI

Video Text Download version

A good Sunday to all. 

The gospel passage about the adulteress, presented to us today, tells a somewhat conflicting story. Let’s try to retell it because it helps us understand how difficult it is to accept the image of God that Jesus presents to us. It is an image that we are always trying to adapt, in some way, to our own criteria. In the case of the adulteress, we are no longer so surprised by what Jesus said and did. It aligns with what we think: that this adulteress was deeply repentant, demonstrating she would not make the same mistake again, which is why Jesus forgave her and offered her absolution. But there is no sign of repentance. 

The Christians of the first centuries understood that these tricks did not work, which is why they considered removing this passage from the Gospels. For two centuries, most ancient Bible manuscripts did not include this story. It appeared in the Gospels only in the third century. Why was there an effort to omit this episode in the early Church? Why was it so problematic? Because it contained a controversial phrase spoken by Jesus to the adulteress: “I do not condemn you.” 

St. Augustine offered a rather interesting explanation: he stated that some of the faithful with little faith, or rather the enemies of true faith, probably feared that the Lord’s acceptance of this sinner would encourage her women. In short, the husbands, responsible fathers of the community, must have thought that Jesus’ phrase, “I do not condemn you,” could be misinterpreted, so it was better to omit it from this text. 

However, the real reason for the suspicion about this episode is that, in the early centuries of the Church, a very strict approach to forgiveness was adopted—one that did not align with the mercy Jesus of Nazareth always showed to those who made mistakes in life. 

By the middle of the second century, the number of Christians had greatly increased, but moral standards had declined, leading Christians to justify all behavior. Serious sins committed after baptism were no longer seen as rare incidents but were treated lightly, with little regard for their significance. This is why Christian communities became very strict with sinners, and the three sins were not forgiven. 

Those who committed these acts were expelled from the community. They were accused of denying the faith, murder, and adultery. There were also more sympathetic figures, such as Pope Cornelius himself, who supported a less strict, more evangelical approach. However, the rigorists accused him of being an impostor who authorized people to indulge in pleasures. This tension persisted within the communities. 

There is also a fourth-century book that serves as an orientation manual for the clergy. It is titled “The Apostolic Constitutions” and advises bishops to emulate what Jesus did before sinners—such as with the woman who had sinned—and to follow the example of the elders who accused her. However, the dominant approach was rigorism, and we know the names of the rigorists who accused Pope Cornelius: Tertullian and Hippolytus. 

Toward the middle of the second century, a very famous book appeared: ‘The Shepherd of Hermas.” It said that people who committed grave sins after baptism were cast out, and that those individuals had to trust in God’s mercy. However, when these people wanted to reconnect with the community, a practice of forgiveness was introduced, akin to a second baptism. Anyone who committed these sins had to undergo years of penance, fasting, mortification, and prayer, and then be reconciled with the community. This reconciliation could happen only once in their lifetime; if they sinned again afterward, they had to rely on God’s mercy. 

In this context, the text that troubled the rigorists most was the one about the adulteress, which challenged the foundation of their pastoral decisions. However, despite some suspicion, the passage continued to circulate and appears in several ancient copies of the Gospels. Ultimately, in the third century, it was included in the Gospel of John. Today, biblical scholars agree that it is not originally part of John’s Gospel but was added later because no one wanted it, and at some point, it was placed as chapter eight of the Gospel according to John. 

The passage is from Luke and is also known by its title today. It was originally found at the end of Luke’s 21st chapter. Whether John or Luke wrote this passage, as was undoubtedly the case, doesn’t matter to us. The style, theme, and language are typical of this evangelist. Now, let’s listen to how this episode is introduced. 

Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. But early in the morning, he returned to the temple area, and all the people came to him. He sat down and taught them. 

Let’s set the scene for this episode, which created so many problems in the primitive Church. The evangelist notes that Jesus comes from the Mount of Olives; he comes from the east, where the sun rises. The Mount of Olives is 60 meters higher than the temple esplanade, which you can see behind me. Jesus therefore descends from the Mount of Olives, crosses the brook Kidron, and enters the temple esplanade through the eastern gate. Along this eastern side was the famous Solomon’s Porch, mentioned in the Gospel according to John and in the Acts of the Apostles. Under this portico sat the rabbis, giving instruction on the Bible and providing legal advice to those who asked. 

Notice that next to the eastern gate of this entrance to the temple esplanade is the first building, followed by another similar structure at the entrance to the women’s court; these were called the higher courts. In each of these buildings, 23 judges met daily, from morning to evening, to resolve the most important cases. Every city had courts of justice, and even synagogues pronounced verdicts, but for serious cases, people had to go to Jerusalem, where justice was administered in the name of God and in accordance with the Torah’s provisions. Another, even more important building is indicated below—the famous Hall of the Hewn Stones, or Chamber of Hewn Stone (Hebrew: לשכת הגזית – Lishkat haGazit), as shown in the inset. This was the place where the Sanhedrin met. It housed 71 judges, presided over by the high priest, who, during Jesus’s time, was Caiaphas. The Sanhedrin could pronounce death sentences, but to carry out such sentences, it had to request approval from the Roman governor, as in the case of Jesus. 

In Jerusalem, justice was always carried out in God’s name, even during the kings’ reigns. Let us recall Psalm 122, where the pilgrim arrives at the Mount of Olives and says: ‘I rejoiced when they said to me, let’s go to the house of the Lord.’ Then, as he gazes at the temple and the king’s palace on the right—the place where justice was administered—he notes: ‘There are the thrones of justice, the thrones of the house of David.’ Indeed, the king delivered judgments in God’s name. When he ascended the throne, he was not a legislator; his role was simply to uphold God’s law. At his coronation, he received a copy of God’s word, which he was expected to enforce. In this temple, justice was practiced in God’s name. Here, we see a clash between two perspectives on justice: one held by the scribes and Pharisees, who rely on the law and believe they represent God’s will and judgment, and another, a righteousness that God Himself declares. 

Let us consider the symbolic significance of the details that frame this narrative, specifically the hour when Jesus reveals what true justice means in God’s eyes. It is in the morning, as the new day begins, that judges gather in the three buildings I have pointed out to speak on God’s behalf. This light originates from the Mount of Olives; it is the new light now shining upon the face of God, not the light projected by the rabbis or the righteous God. Instead, it is another light that emerges on this new day. Jesus now enters the temple and takes a seat; he assumes the role of the Master. Where did he sit? Under which porch? We don’t know, but we can imagine he sat by the north entrance I mentioned. 

Let’s listen now to what happened: 

Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery and made her stand in the middle. They said to him, ‘Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now, in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?’ They said this to test him, hoping to find grounds to bring a charge against him.

Now, some characters we know very well arrive on the scene: the scribes and the Pharisees. We met them last Sunday when they were angry because Jesus welcomed tax collectors and sinners into his house and feasted with them. They couldn’t stand the idea of a God who, instead of punishing sinners, celebrated with them. In today’s passage, they caught a woman in adultery and brought her to Jesus to test him. They didn’t catch the man because they didn’t care about him or the woman in question. 

Here, it is not about the woman’s adultery but about the image of God that Jesus preaches and the righteousness of God that Jesus announces; they cannot accept them. The woman’s adultery is only an excuse to set a trap for Jesus. They put the woman in the middle, evil at the center of attention, and in front of this evil, they want him to speak out. Two ways of doing justice will be contrasted: that of the scribes and Pharisees and that of Jesus. 

What do the scribes and Pharisees propose to do about evil? They say, ‘Master, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery, and Moses in the law has commanded us to stone women like this; therefore, the law, the Torah, instructs us to address the issue by punishing those who behave in this way.’ The disagreement was whether the punishment was by stoning or strangulation, as the Mishnah states. Leviticus, chapter 20, says that if one commits adultery with his neighbor’s wife, both the adulterer and the adulteress shall be put to death. 

The woman was probably very ashamed to be in the middle, and she was also a little afraid because they were savages who had captured her. However, she wasn’t afraid of being stoned because, in fact, the death sentences mentioned in the Bible were not actually carried out. After all, the Talmud, a holy book that collects Israel’s traditions, states that a Sanhedrin issuing a death sentence once every 70 years would be considered extreme and excessively severe, meaning a death penalty every 70 years. These sentences were not carried out. When the Torah imposes the death penalty, it is more of a serious crime than a sentence to be enforced. The death penalty, as written in the Bible, was even for someone who slaps his father or mother or for someone who breaks the law or the Sabbath.

These death sentences were never carried out; they were meant only to emphasize the seriousness of the evil committed. The Torah points out the evil; it tells you, ‘See that this fruit is poisoned… if it instructs you not to commit adultery and warns that you will face the death penalty; this sentence will not be carried out, but you are poisoning your life.’ Therefore, the warning given by the Torah is valuable because it advises you to protect yourself from poison. Consequently, the woman should not have been overly afraid; she knew she could be punished but not killed. We are faced with evil, which is placed in the middle; now, what is the scribes’ proposal to eliminate the world’s evil definitively? Let’s remove the one who commits it; this is the simplest way to solve the problem. Justice is served by holding the guilty accountable. That means making him understand that he should not do evil; that he commits evil; that he should not cause others to suffer, and that he himself suffers; that he must not kill, which is why the death penalty exists. Those who reason this way also believe that they are following the law of Moses. 

The question posed to Jesus was, ‘We have made our proposal to do away with evil by suppressing those who do it; what do you say? How do you do justice?’ The evangelist’s account continues, noting that they asked this to test him, hoping to find a reason to accuse him. Thus, the target, ‘ἔχωσιν’ (‘egracein’) in Greek, was to set a trap for him. They believed they had trapped him because he would either disavow the image of God who loves sinners and tax collectors, thereby changing his life, or he would speak out against the Torah. If he spoke out against the Torah, the Sanhedrin would be two steps away, making it easy to catch him; they could bring him before the high priest, who would then administer exemplary punishment. 

They have asked him, “So what do you say?” Let us see how Jesus responds. He does not answer their question but makes an unusual gesture. Let’s listen: 

Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger. But when they kept pressing 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.’ Again, he bent down and wrote on the ground. In response, they went away one by one, beginning with the elders. So he was left alone with the woman before him. Then Jesus straightened up and said to her, ‘Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?’ She replied, ‘No one, sir.’ Then Jesus said, ‘Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.’ 

Jesus was asked a question to which he did not respond; instead, he began to write with his finger on the ground. In our place, we probably would have immediately argued with the scribes and Pharisees, pointing out that their interpretation of the Torah was wrong, or we would have rebuked them for their evil motives; we would have said, ‘See, I have noticed that you do not care about the adulterous woman; what you want is to condemn me… I am aware of that.’ 

Jesus has two main goals: to save the woman, of course, because she belongs to the group the scribes and Pharisees consider Jesus’ friends—the friends of tax collectors and sinners. Jesus cannot appear before his friends; he must save the woman first. The other goal is to save his accusers because Jesus loves them; he wants them to be happy; he desires that everyone joyfully accept the new image of God, a God who relates to those who do evil in ways they do not imagine. What does he do? He uses a very effective teaching method. 

The first step: he recognizes he’s facing a group, and we all understand the group’s psychology. People come together, start doing unpleasant, terrible things, and don’t feel responsible because it was the group, not them. The first step to bringing them back is to remove them from the group, have them reflect, and make them aware of their responsibility for their actions. 

This is, then, the first meaning of Jesus’ gesture; it is the silence that surrounds him. Silence can be scary because if nothing distracts you, you must reflect and think, and it’s easy for some disturbing thoughts you’ve always tried to suppress to surface. It’s as if Jesus says, ‘stop for a moment in that silence, reflect, think about it, and try to ask yourself what moved you to bring this woman here.’ The woman has hurt herself and her husband; maybe she has ruined her family and others. By putting her in the middle, did you solve anything? Did you think you were doing her any good? Did you believe you were helping her recover in life? Or maybe, with your behavior, you add more harm to what she has already done. How is it that you are so dissatisfied with her when she has done nothing wrong to you? If you consider the reasons you brought her here, you might feel ashamed of what you have done. Don’t hide in the group; step out and look inside yourself. 

And the accusers cannot endure this silence; in fact, the narration states that they began to interrogate him. They can’t tolerate the silence; it unsettles them. The Greek text says ‘ἐπέμενον’ – ‘epémenon’. ‘Epimenein’ means ‘they fell on him.’ Then Jesus lifts his head and says, “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” This is how Jesus begins to break up the group, not that they stone her all at once, but one at a time. After pondering, if they conclude that they are completely different from her, that they have no sins, that they are pure, upright… and the solution for evil is what they propose, which is to eliminate the one who commits it, then be cautious, because if you are also sinners, you too must be eliminated. 

I want to reflect on our days, especially on the group that is so often present today, even within Christian communities. This group needs to be dissolved—the one that throws stones of hearsay, not slander… I hope it won’t come to that in Christian communities, but gossip and the spreading of errors we have become aware of.

These people must face their consciences, and before criticizing others, they should reflect on their own actions. Do you truly want to help the people whose faults you publicize? Are you sure that someday someone won’t criticize you in the same way? Is the latest spicy gossip you spread for your brother or sister’s benefit, or for a compulsive satisfaction that leaves a bitter taste in your heart when you broadcast their mistakes? Try asking yourself whether you would be happy if you were the target of those stones someday. After pondering this, gently, Jesus begins to write on the ground with his finger. 

Then we wonder about the meaning of Jesus’s actions, because the story is brief. His gesture is mentioned twice. Many interpretations exist; the most traditional is Jerome’s, who said that Jesus began writing the sins of the accusers in the sand, and then, clearly, the elders—who were the first to be confronted by Jesus—left, all ashamed. Jesus does nothing wrong by writing words to shame the accusers. Jesus loves them; he wants to save and free them, not humiliate them. On the other hand, he couldn’t have written in the sand because there was no sand on the temple’s esplanade; the ground was paved with stones, so Jesus’s finger was moving across the stones. 

We must focus on the text that doesn’t specify what he wrote; it simply states that he wrote with his finger on stone. The reference is clearly to the only biblical passage in which God’s finger writes on stone—the two tablets of the Decalogue. The Decalogue outlines how you should live and which mistakes to avoid; the poison that endangers your life is shown to you by the Torah, written in stone. These people understand that when God’s finger moved, He inscribed the law on stone. Through this gesture, Jesus asks, ‘Are you still clinging to the law written on stone? Have you forgotten what the prophet Jeremiah said—that one day God would inscribe His law not on stone but on the heart?’ When the law is no longer external to a person but resides within his heart, that heart compels him to do good. 

With his gesture, Jesus asks the accusers, ‘Ask yourselves, are your hearts still made of stone, or have they been transformed into new hearts that understand the thoughts and feelings of God?’ When they heard Jesus and saw him begin to write again, they started to turn away, beginning with the elders, ‘πρεσβυτέρων’—the ‘presbyters’ according to the Greek text. Not because they were the first to be ashamed, but because they were the first to understand and be converted by Jesus. Jesus achieved this primary goal. 

Now Jesus is left alone with the woman, and their positions are significant. The woman had been standing, and Jesus had been sitting. Throughout the discussion with the accusers and the trial, the woman remained standing with the other people, while Jesus was seated. He bowed twice, always remaining seated. The translation says, “Jesus straightened up.” Jesus looked up (still seated), and the woman stood up. Let’s notice that in Luke’s Gospel, we also see Jesus standing below and the sinner, Zacchaeus, above. When Zacchaeus is in the sycamore tree, Jesus looks up because God is always below for the sinner, who loves him. He is at the service of those who have gone wrong. 

This is the image of God that Jesus shows us. “He looks up and says to the woman, ‘Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?’ She replied, ‘No one, sir.’ Then Jesus said, ‘Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.'” Let us interpret the sentence Jesus spoke, “Neither do I condemn you,” correctly. It is often cited as a famous statement associated with discrimination. First, let’s not assume the woman’s repentance, promise, intention to stop sinning, or Jesus’ forgiveness—none of those make sense here. There is no indication of repentance in the woman. In fact, even with repentant sinners, the Pharisees were very understanding. 

Here is another clear message. Jesus clearly and distinctly distinguishes between sin and the sinner. Jesus disapproves of the evil that has been done; he does not justify the sin. Adultery is a serious sin; it harms those who commit it and can have severe consequences. It can break up families, with effects that ripple through children and future generations. Let’s remember how strict and demanding Jesus’ sexual morality is. In the Sermon on the Mount, it goes far beyond what the rabbis taught, not only condemning adultery but also calling it an evil desire, because the process that leads to the betrayal of conjugal love begins in the heart. 

Jesus agrees with the Torah, which denounces evil and identifies what is poisonous. In fact, he tells the woman, ‘do no more evil to yourself; but though you commit it a thousand times, I will never condemn you because God condemns evil, but not his sons and daughters.’ This is the new image of God that Jesus introduced into the world. God does not do justice by tearing apart and sending his children to hell for making mistakes. This is not true justice; it is revenge. Let us not return to the images of God that the scribes and Pharisees have in mind. Jesus took the stones out of our hands; we cannot throw them at others. 

Perhaps some people think that in the end, Jesus himself will be the one who throws the stones… that one day God will punish us. Let us stop projecting our evil onto God. Jesus paid with his life for the proclamation of a God who is love and only love—love that will never condemn any of his sons and daughters. One day, they will bring him before the Sanhedrin, not now, when he pronounced the sentence of not condemning the adulteress, but someday they will condemn him precisely for proclaiming the image of the true God, who loves and only loves. The God who has asked us not to condemn anybody will not condemn us. He is the first to practice this command he gave us. Never condemn people when they go astray or make mistakes; help them recover in life. This is doing justice, not executing it. 

If we accept and embrace this image of God, we will calm our hearts, as John says in his first letter, “If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.” 

I wish you all a good Sunday and a good week.