Engraved in Love and Mercy

Fifth Sunday of Lent Year C

Familiarity with this story has made most of us inattentive to gaping holes in the narrative.

First, this famous incident took place within the precinct of the Temple, and this is no insignificant detail. Why would this woman be brought into the precinct of the Temple, even if this took place in the outer Court of Women? Shouldn’t the scribes and Pharisees who were most careful about matters concerning ritual purity know that to have a public sinner dragged into the compound of the House of God would be a great affront to God Himself?

Second, who was this unnamed woman? Is she the same woman in Luke 7:47-49 who entered the house of Simon the Pharisee and bathed the Lord’s feet with her tears? And to think that this woman was forgiven once and now caught in another compromising situation? Shouldn’t she deserve a more severe punishment for this repeat offence?

Thirdly, and this may seem oddest of all - the Lord’s parting words to this woman are, “go away, and do not sin anymore.” Curiously, Saint John does not report any penitential resolve on the part of the woman. Although the Lord also does not condemn her, neither does He absolve her of her sin.

But the fourth mystery of this story is one which has puzzled most scholars and commentators, and given rise to many speculations - what was our Lord writing on the ground? One common answer was that He was writing the names of the men, many of whom were standing in the crowd accusing this woman, guilty of having committed the act of adultery or fornication with this woman. This is a plausible answer as no one can commit adultery or fornication alone by himself or herself - it takes two to tango. This may be reminiscent of the prophet Jeremiah’s scribbling the sins of the Israelites.

But there is also another possibility offered by St Thomas Aquinas. He sees in this woman a symbol and representative of sinful humanity, and like fallen humanity, she is in need of mercy, even though her accusers demand justice. There seems no way out. According to St John Paul II, her accusers “intend to show that (Christ’s) teaching on God’s merciful love contradicts the Law, which punished the sin of adultery with stoning.” How can God be just and yet merciful toward our fallen human race? But then something wonderful happens. Jesus bends down and begins to write in the earth. And this is all done in silence. What does this mean?

St Thomas Aquinas, with the keenness of his mystical insight, says that this action signifies that God in His mercy is stooping down to assist sinful humanity. In fact, he says, that whenever Jesus stoops down, this signifies an act of God’s mercy, and that whenever He stands up straight, this signifies an act of God’s justice. For the Greek word for justice literally means, “uprightness.” It is the same word in the Greek for what Jesus is doing by standing upright. But what does the writing in the earth signify? The Greek word there is katagraphein. It is a hapax legomenon, which is to say that it is a unique word which appears only once in the New Testament, and that is here. It doesn’t exactly mean “write”—that would be graphein—but katagraphein means “to engrave.”

What was our Lord “engraving”? We return to the Old Testament to see how God engraves the commandments with His finger in the tablets of stone. So the Fathers of the Church say that the Lord is here writing the commandments into the earth. But according to St Thomas, this act also signifies the mystery of the Incarnation—when by the finger of God, the Holy Spirit, the eternal Word was written into our human nature, as Isaiah the prophet once wrote: “Let the heavens rain down the Just One and the earth bring forth a Saviour” (Isa 45:8). The earth is a fit symbol for human nature since God had shaped the first man from the earth. And all this is done in silence to signify the ineffability of this mystery. It is as if Jesus is saying to the scribes and Pharisees: “Yes, according to Moses she ought to be condemned and stoned to death, but now through the Incarnation, mercy has been made available to her. Therefore, there is now hope for sinners.” Jesus is the perfect sin offering, the Lamb of God, who truly takes away the sins of the world.

But the scribes and Pharisees do not understand the mystery, and they break the reverent silence with a cacophony of cries: they want justice, they want blood. And as they continued to ask Him, our Lord stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” By straightening up, our Lord is now signifying that He is dispensing justice by passing judgment. They have asked for justice and justice they will receive, but now it is they who also stand accused. Our Lord does not pass judgment on this woman but on her accusers. But let us be clear that the Lord does not make excuses for the sins of this woman. He does not deny that she deserves death, but He adds to this that so do these scribes and Pharisees. Mercy is never given to the deserving. It is always offered to the undeserving, if it is to be mercy.

But what happens next? Our Lord stoops down again, as if to offer mercy to the newly accused. And this time He begins to write again, but the word now is graphein. He is not engraving but simply writing lightly in the earth, and as you all know, that whatever is written in sand, is malleable and can be easily erased. And the Fathers of the Church tell us that now He is writing their sins, but lightly as if to indicate that these can be easily wiped away, if only they will accept that they too need God’s mercy. How often do we fail to grasp this? How often have we etched and engraved the sins of others in our hearts as we refuse to forgive them but we forget that our sins are so quickly and easily absolved by God, as would writings in the sand be simply erased with a sweep of the hand?

Then what happens last of all? Our Lord stands up again to render His judgment, a judgment both just and merciful: Our Lord looked up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, sir.” And she is right - all her accusers have fled the scene in shame - they who deserve God’s judgment had been reminded by the Lord that they too have been recipients of His mercy. How could they demand a different standard for this woman? The woman now stands upright because she has been justified by the mercy of Christ, not because she was justified by her own merits. Hence, she hears the sentence: And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you … go away, and do not sin anymore.”

St John Paul II provides us a perfect conclusion to this story: “This Gospel passage clearly teaches that Christian forgiveness is not synonymous with mere tolerance, but implies something more demanding. It does not mean overlooking evil, or even worse, denying it. God does not forgive evil but the individual, and He teaches us to distinguish the evil act, which as such must be condemned, from the person who has committed it, to whom He offers the possibility of changing. While man tends to identify the sinner with his sin, closing every escape, the heavenly Father instead has sent His Son into the world to offer everyone a way to salvation… On Calvary, by the supreme sacrifice of his life, the Messiah will seal for every man and woman the infinite gift of God's pardon and mercy.”

Sharing in the Lord's Suffering

Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

This episode takes place immediately after our Lord had prophesied His death and resurrection for the third and last time. Instead of responding to this and seeking further clarification, the disciples respond once again in the most inept and tactless way. On the first occasion, St Peter tried to convince our Lord to change His mind on going to Jerusalem. In the second instance, we have them secretly discussing who will be the greatest. Now on this third occasion, we have the two brothers privately seeking places of honour, and the others feeling indignant because these two had obviously jumped the gun in trying to secure promotions before the others had a chance to do so. They were more concerned about their positions in our Lord’s future organisation, that they were oblivious to His words on His imminent suffering and death.

In wanting to secure the top positions in the Messiah’s future government, the two brothers and other disciples had once again misunderstood the nature of our Lord’s mission and their identity as His disciples. Our Lord then throws them a challenge - will they be willing to drink the cup which He has to drink or be baptised with the baptism with which our Lord must be baptised. What is the meaning of this cup and baptism?

Obviously, our Lord is not just referring to the drinking cup which intimate friends and family members sometimes share at a meal as a sign of fellowship, nor is He referring to the baptism He received at the River Jordan when He was baptised by St John. In both instances, He is speaking of a future event symbolised by both the cup and the baptism. Our Lord is asking His disciples, which includes all of us, if we are willing to be united with Him in His redemptive suffering. Both the Eucharistic cup of the Blood of Christ and the baptism by which Christians are to undergo, are a participation in the death of Christ. In contrast to the world’s standards which see a sharing in a great king’s perks and benefits as a sign of honour, to share in Christ’s death and suffering would be the greatest privilege and honour for Christians.

Our Lord reminds us that the values of His Kingdom will be in stark contrast with the values of the world, values which prioritises privilege, power, and riches: “This is not to happen among you.” In fact, the values of the Kingdom will be profoundly counter-cultural and counter-intuitive: “anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be slave to all.” There is no place for self-promotion, rivalry or domineering conduct among Christians.

Ultimately, we are to look to Christ as the model par-excellence for greatness in the Kingdom of God. This last line sums up our Lord’s messianic mission: “For the Son of Man himself did not come to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” The words of our Lord are thus the fulfilment of the prophesy of Isaiah concerning the atoning suffering of the Servant which we had heard in the first reading. There is no way around this. This is the mission of the Suffering Servant. He has come to suffer for the atonement of sins. And it is clear in the gospel, that He did not only suffer, but came to die, “to give his life as a ransom for many.” God sent His Son to die on the cross for us and for our salvation. He could have redeemed us in another way that involved less agony for Jesus, but the suffering was a key part of the sacrifice. In the words of the theologian Jürgen Moltmann, “God not only participates in our suffering but also makes our suffering into His own, and takes our death into His life

The redemptive suffering of Christ which we are called to share, flies against common notions on suffering. Suffering is not an achievement trophy, like how athletes show us when they’ve put in the effort for a good workout. Neither is suffering a curse inflicted upon us by a cruel and sadistic God. Most certainly, suffering is not a mark of failure. By suffering for humanity, our Lord has transformed the curse into a blessing, into something redemptive.

But it isn’t only our Lord who suffers redemptively for us. He also invites us, by challenging us to share in the cup which He must drink and the baptism which He must undergo, to share in His work of redemption by uniting our suffering with His in an eternal offering of love. Seems like a crazy kind of love, right? But redemptive suffering is the most beautiful and perfect love. Offering up our suffering is a powerful way to become like Christ and love others, as He loves them. We are able to love this way because of grace. Redemptive suffering is a gift accorded to us because we are His friends. It is impossible for us to love this way on our own. It is only possible with God.

One of the most profound witnesses of redemptive suffering was Pope Saint John Paul II. Karol Wojtyla, as a young man and even during the early years of his pontificate, was a picture of health, vigour and vitality. However, in 1981, he suffered an assassination attempt in Rome. In the early 90s, however, a series of health problems began to take their toll. Describing the Holy Father in the fall of 1998, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger stated: “The pain is written on his face. His figure is bent, and he needs to support himself on his pastoral staff. He leans on the cross, on the crucifix....” Despite the visible pain, he carried his suffering in a prophetic manner. His courage and perseverance in carrying out his activities as pope, despite his physical afflictions, was a heart-lifting example for all of us.

 In 1984, he published the apostolic letter “On the Christian Meaning of Suffering.” When confronted with suffering, most of us desperately seek answers to the question ‘Why’? Why me? Why now? The pope responds by telling us, that Christ does not really give us an answer to such questions, but rather a lived example. When we approach Christ with our questions about the reason for suffering, says the pope, we cannot help noticing that the one to whom we put the questions “is himself suffering and wishes to answer...from the Cross, from the heart of his own suffering.... “Christ does not explain in the abstract the reasons for suffering,” he points out, “but before all else he says: ‘Follow me!’ Come! Take part through your suffering in this work of saving the world... Gradually, as the individual takes up his cross, spiritually uniting himself to the Cross of Christ, the salvific meaning of suffering is revealed before him” (#26).

Many who suffer the infirmities of aging and illness may ask the poignant question, ‘What can I possibly do in my present condition?’ Old age and illness both seem to be impediments to all the things a person hopes to achieve in his or her life. But the Lord and the witness of the Saints remind us, especially those of you who are leaning on the cross of Christ, that your suffering need not be futile nor meaningless. Do not waste your sufferings by complaining about them or grow bitter as a result of them. For in courageously bearing with your sickness, your pain, your troubles, in continuing to show love despite your fatigue, you reveal and proclaim the profound mystery of Christ’s presence even in the midst of suffering. Through your suffering, you make visible and audible the Suffering Christ from the cross who invites us: “Can you drink the cup that I must drink, or be baptised with the baptism with which I must be baptised?”

All Lives Matter

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Recently, we were warned by the public health authorities that the current spike of new infections has placed an unprecedented enormous toll on health facilities and personnel that may be pushing our doctors to make the most painful decision - Sophie’s Choice - deciding who gets the treatment and who doesn’t - which ultimately translates into choosing who gets to live and who has to die. So, what sort of criteria is being used? Would the decision be made on a first-come, first-served basis? Should we prioritise the severely ill over the less serious patients? Should we reserve our resources for those who have a better chance to live? None of us want to be in the shoes of the person who has to make these choices. None of us would want to play God. And every one of us would want to be the person who is given a second chance.

Our Lord seems to have been placed in a similar difficult spot, when He is forced to choose between the young twelve-year old girl who is dying and the older woman who had been suffering for twelve years. These little details are deliberately mentioned to show that these two stories are mirror images of each other. If you were given a choice to attend to the needs of only one of them, who would you choose? The younger woman who is in a more life-threatening situation and has a longer life ahead of her, or the older woman who had suffered pain, humiliation and alienation for twelve years, and it would be unbearably cruel to allow her to suffer a second longer? But being the Lord, He chooses both and He chooses life over death.

This lengthy passage forms what scholars sometimes call a ‘sandwich’: St Mark is particularly keen on putting one story inside another; as today, the story of the woman with the haemorrhage is the filling and the story of the raising of the official’s daughter, the bread. The two are juxtaposed in order to help interpret one another. What the two stories have in common, over and above being examples of the divine power at work in Jesus, is that not only some lives matter but both lives matter, in fact all lives matter in the eyes of God. One life is not more important, nor more valuable, than the other.

The story does not merely show that our Lord was concerned with all lives, young or old, a foetus in the womb or a fully grown adult, sick or healthy, Jew or Gentile, man or woman, Saint or sinner, but He had come not just to address our physical ailments and restore us to health but He was keener in giving us life in abundance, an antidote to death. What He did for the little girl was a prelude to what He was planning to do for all of us - the resurrection of the body. As the first reading reminds us, “death was not God’s doing. He takes no pleasure in the extinction of the living.” Neither does our Lord take pleasure in our suffering or death.

Indeed, death connects the interlocking stories of Jairus’ daughter and the woman. Both supplicants know they face the immediacy of death. Yet, their encounter with our Lord culminates in victory over death. The woman suffering the chronic illness, an illness that would probably have led to her death, is healed. The resuscitation of Jairus’ daughter also proves that the Lord does not only have power over sickness that may lead to death, He also has the power to overcome death and wrest its victims back from the grave.

For Christians, though, it's not always easy to encourage life around us. We live in a culture that doesn't foster life but anti-life. St John Paul II, in his writings and preaching, have constantly placed a spotlight on what he calls the culture of death - it is a culture where choices once unanimously considered criminal and rejected by the common moral sense (like abortion or euthanasia) are gradually becoming socially acceptable.

On the one hand, we fear life. Children are seen as a burden. They get in the way of our careers, our ambitions. They make a mess of our bodies, our homes, and our lives. People with disabilities scare us because we don't want them to put pressure on our resources. On the other hand, we also fear death just as much as we fear life. The thought of visiting a terminally ill or an ageing person paralyses us. Mercy killing is a euphemism created by modern society to soften the reality of what it is in reality – murder. We claim that it is an act of mercy, that we are putting someone out of his misery and not wishing to prolong his suffering, but the truth is that, it is another convenient way to unload another burden. We can’t bare the inconvenience and pain of supporting another person who is in pain, and so we choose to remove them from our sight. If Pope St John Paul II was renowned for highlighting the danger of the culture of death, Pope Francis frequently speaks about a “throwaway culture” in which unwanted items and unwanted people, such as the unborn, the elderly, and the poor, are discarded as waste.

This is the reason why it is incumbent on all Catholics to promote and foster a culture of life, that all life should be considered sacred from the moment of its conception till death, that a person is to be valued as a person for who he or she is, a creature of God, and not by what he or she owns, does or can produce. To transform our culture into one which respects and defends human life, it is necessary to speak of a deeper and a greater truth: All human life is sacred. God is its author. We do not own it.

Each of us has gifts to bring to this challenge. Each of us has a responsibility to help bring about a culture of life. No one is exempt. We are asked to teach persuasively on behalf of unborn children and the elderly, and defend their rights because this is where today's struggle is most costly in human lives. Being indifferent, walking past and refusing to stop, ignoring the pleas of desperation are never options. Although we cannot save every person from the ravages of sickness or death, we can save every soul by leading them to Christ who alone can save them, body and soul. In the Nicene Creed, God the Holy Spirit is referred to as “The Lord and Giver of Life.” Only He is able to truly create the miracle of life. Only God can restore us not just to health but to the resurrected life. But we can share with Him as He works, affirming it in others and fighting for life where we see death and decay in our hearts and in our world, because “all lives matter”, and not just whenever it is convenient.