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John 8:2-11 New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

² Early in the morning he came again to the temple. All the people came to him, and he sat down and began to teach them. ³ The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and, making her stand before all of them, ⁴ they said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. ⁵ Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” ⁶ They said this to test him, so that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. ⁷ When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” ⁸ And once again he bent down and wrote on the ground. ⁹ When they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the elders, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. ¹⁰ Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” ¹¹ She said, “No one, sir.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.” 

Matthew 23:23 New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

²³ “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint, dill, and cumin and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith. It is these you ought to have practiced without neglecting the others.

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It does not take much to start a controversy. A comment online, a rumor in a small town, a headline that gives us just enough information to feel certain and yet not nearly enough to understand the whole situation. And before long, opinions harden, sides form, and someone becomes the center of it all – more symbol than person. We have all seen that happen. Maybe we have even joined in. Which makes this scene in today’s Gospel of John feel a little less distant than we might like.

Early in the morning, Jesus returns to the temple. People gather. He sits down to teach. And then the lesson is interrupted – not by  curiosity, but by an accusation.

A woman is dragged into the center of the crowd. Exposed. Shamed. Accused. 

“Teacher,” they say, “this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. The law of Moses commands us to stone such women. What do you say?”

The law they cite can be found in the books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy. 

Lev. 20:10 If a man commits adultery with the wife of his neighbor, both the adulterer and the adulteress shall be put to death. 

Deut. 22:23-24 If there is a young woman, a virgin already engaged to be married, and a man meets her in the town and lies with her, you shall bring both of them to the gate of that town and stone them to death, the young woman because she did not cry for help in the town and the man because he violated his neighbor’s wife. So you shall purge the evil from your midst. 

However flawed and harsh this sounds to our ears – women being described as property – adultery being punishable by death – this law was to be applied equally to men and women. If this is about justice, where is the other person? Why are the accusers applying the law to one and not the other? 

And so, the scribes and the Pharisees are also exposed: this is not really about keeping the law and honoring holiness codes. It is about control. Of women. Of anyone that dares to question the authority of those with power. It is about fabricating a reason to accuse and arrest Jesus.

How does Jesus respond? He bends down and begins to write in the dust. We do not know what he wrote. Scripture does not tell us. I suspect he was purposely pausing to interrupt the process.  Slowing down the response of the crowd. Refusing to participate in the deadly game of accusation. But the scribes and Pharisees kept pressing him. They wanted an answer. They wanted a verdict. They wanted him to fall into their trap.

Finally, Jesus stands and says, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.” And then he bends down again, letting the accusers absorb his words. And one by one, they leave. Beginning with the elders.

I have always loved that detail. The elders go first. They have lived long enough to know better. Long enough to recognize their own faults, their own failures, their own need for mercy. There is a wisdom that comes with age – not always, but sometimes – a humility that says: “I am not as righteous as I once thought.” And so the stones drop. The crowd thins until there is no one left but Jesus and the woman. “Where are they?” he asks. “Has no one condemned you?” “No one, sir.” “Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.”

It is important to notice that Jesus did not say, “What you did does not matter.” He does not say, “There is no need for change.” But neither does he condemn. Jesus knows that holding one another accountable is not the same thing as condemning one another.

Whereas condemnation belittles, implying that we are our worst moments or that we are beyond redemption, accountability allows for dignity. Jesus’ response signals to the woman: Your life matters. Your choices matter. You are capable of more. Jesus refuses condemnation while making room for transformation.

And this is where we begin to intersect with the verse from Matthew.  What Jesus calls, “the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith.”

We often get distracted by the smaller things – the visible things, the measurable things, the things that make us feel in control. Like tithing mint, dill, and cumin – focusing on tiny, precise acts of religious correctness but missing the weightier intent of the law. 

What are these weightier matters that we read about in the Gospel of Matthew this morning? Justice. Mercy. Faith.  Let us consider these one at a time. 

Justice, in this story, starts with telling the truth about what is happening. This woman is not being treated fairly. She is being singled out, exposed, used as a pawn. The law itself – especially in how it is being applied here – is unjust. And Jesus refuses to participate in that injustice. Sometimes justice looks like refusing to cooperate with the authorities. Refusing to answer a rigged question. Refusing to uphold a system that causes harm. Sometimes justice looks like asking: Who is missing from this story? Whose voice has been silenced? Who is being treated as less than human?

Mercy, by definition, “is lenient or compassionate treatment;” or “a blessing that is an act of divine favor or compassion.” Mercy is what happens when the stones are not thrown. Mercy is what happens when someone with power intercedes for someone without power. Mercy is what happens when someone who may deserve punishment receives instead the possibility of a new beginning. Mercy is what happens when hearts are changed and those clamoring for stoning are led to consider their own imperfections. Yes, mercy can make us uncomfortable. Because mercy, when applied to others often disrupts our sense of fairness. Mercy, when we receive it, feels like a welcome, cleansing rain. 

Mercy is not about pretending harm does not exist. It is about choosing not to let harm have the final word. “Neither do I condemn you,” says Jesus. Are we brave enough and strong enough to say the same? 

Faith, in this moment, is not about belief statements or certainty. Faith is about trust – trust in the possibility of transformation. Jesus looks at this woman – not as a case study, not as a scandal, not as a problem to be solved – but as a person capable of a different future. “Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.”

Jesus displays an act of faith. Faith that the accused woman is more than her past. Faith that she can live differently. Faith that grace can actually change a life. I have faith that the same is true for all of us. Because when we are honest, we are sometimes in the crowd with stones and sometimes the person that stands accused. We are both. We are the ones who judge, and the ones who need mercy. We are the ones who cling to being right, and the ones who hope desperately to be forgiven.

And so we must ask: Where are we putting our attention? Are we focusing on the easiest targets, the most visible sins – the errors, faults, and transgressions of others – so that we may feel superior? Or are we turning toward the weightier matters of justice, mercy, and faith even when they are hard, messy, and inconvenient? Because sometimes it is easier to throw stones than to examine our own hearts. Easier to enforce rules than to pursue justice. Easier to condemn than to show mercy. Easier to doubt the possibility of change than to live by faith.

Jesus calls us to drop the stones. Jesus calls us to notice who has been left out. Jesus calls us to refuse to participate in unjust systems. Jesus calls us to extend mercy that feels risky. Jesus teaches us to believe in transformation – even when it is slow, even when it is incomplete. Jesus teaches us to stop clinging so tightly to our judgments, our grievances, and our need to be right. Because, in the end, the story is not about punishment – it is about possibility.

Amen

Rev. TJ Mack – March 22, 2026