Homilies

This gospel passage is full of questions; explicit questions asked and questions not asked that come to mind. If this woman was caught in the act of adultery, where was the man? Why wasn’t he captured? Did he run off or did they let him go scot-free?

This leaves me wondering if adultery is really the issue here or if the woman was just an easy target for the Pharisees, who were conniving to find a way to trap Jesus? In her shame and naked vulnerability, she is paraded through the streets and brought to Jesus. How will he react? Hoping to find something to use against him, the Pharisees presume that they have Jesus in a no-win situation. No matter what he says, so they think, he will not satisfy everyone.

Naturally, Jesus’ response is of great concern to the accused woman. Will he uphold the Law of Moses and thus allow her to be stoned to death? Or will he override that Law and spare her life? The suspense builds as he stoops down to write on the ground.

As is often the case when it comes to dealing with the Pharisees, Jesus turns the tables on them. They had made the woman the focus of attention, but standing up, Jesus makes them the focal point of the trial. He said to them, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” One by one, the onlookers slinked away.

The heart of the matter is not the sexual wrongdoing of the woman but the hypocrisy of the men accusing her. As she stood there in her shame, anticipating the horrendous fate of stoning by those nearby holding rocks and judging her, notice that Jesus kept his head down, writing in the sand for he doesn’t want to add to her shame. Only when they are alone, does he look at her.

In a brief conversation, made up of more questions, Jesus and the woman agreed that a sin was committed and the law had been broken, but Jesus doesn’t want the woman to be held hostage by it. “Neither do I condemn you,” he said, “Go, and from now on do not sin any more.”

There is a tendency in our society to deny that some things are sinful, such as shoplifting, lying, fornication, malicious gossip, or even abortion, but Jesus doesn’t deny the reality of sin. He knows that every sin has consequences and the potential to do much harm and destroy us, so he wisely counsels us too, “Go and sin no more.”Can we readily identify with the accused woman? Have we known the experience of shame and vulnerability? Have we had people point the finger at us? If so, then the message of the gospel and the healing and forgiving words of Jesus will have special meaning and appeal to us as well.

At the start of every Mass, we acknowledge that we are sinners in need of God’s mercy. But do we fully appreciate the enormous depth of God’s forgiveness? Whether our sins are big or small, mortal or venial, Jesus wants to restore our dignity and help us along the way. He is not in the business of stunting our spiritual growth and keeping us mired in guilt.

This gospel passage reminds us of God’s readiness to forgive sin, bind up broken lives, and restore people to his friendship. The Church has us focus our attention on the plight of the sinful woman because before God all of us stand silent in our sinfulness. Her story of sin committed and forgiven is not an isolated event but an example of the boundless mercy and compassion shown by Jesus to all sinners. The lesson is not that sin is unimportant but that God in his mercy extends pardon to the sinner.

Jesus’ offer of forgiveness and compassion to this publicly humiliated woman points to our call to be a forgiving people, committed to reconciliation. Yet many times we are as self-righteous as the Pharisees. There are times when we are only too ready to spread scandal with a bit of spicy gossip, impugning someone’s reputation. It is so easy to criticize and condemn others, thus act just as the Pharisees did.

Are there times when, we have been self-righteous at the expense of someone else’s dignity? Have we, in dealings with others, been hypocritical? If so, then the message of this gospel and the words of Jesus have significance for us.

The prayers of our liturgy constantly remind us that in the sight of God, we are equal and as such, we are brothers and sisters. We have a duty to care for one another, and that care includes generous and wholehearted forgiveness when the need arises. While we might dole out forgiveness gradually, Jesus blots out the whole debt of guilt all at once, provided that we seek his forgiveness with sincere contrition.

Granted, forgiveness isn’t always easy to express or do but if we are more apt to judge than to forgive, we run the risk of being hypocritical like the Pharisees. Thank God, Jesus’ response to sin is not to condemn, but to be generous in mercy, in the hope that we will see the errors of our ways and respond by going and sinning no more.

None of us can condemn another person as a sinner. When we do, we are really condemning ourselves. Now is the time to open our fists and let the rocks drop. The next time we find ourselves thinking thoughts that condemn someone, we might look for a way instead to extend our hands to the other person in compassion and mercy just as Jesus would

You have just heard perhaps the greatest short story of all time by one of the greatest storytellers of all time. First we encountered the prodigal son, whose father is obviously well off with much land. His son wants to be wanderlust, so he demands his share of the family estate, ventures off and squanders his money in lewd living. Down to his last shekel, he finds himself working in a pigsty. This epitome of shame prompts him to come to his senses and return home.

He goes back, all set to apologize to his father, expecting the worse. Then we find the father spotting his wayward son far off. Filled with compassion, he excitedly runs to meet him as fast as he can and before the lad has a chance to apologize, he is embraced and kissed. Treating his son like an honored guest, the father summons the servants to clothe him with the finest robe to show that he is still his son.

Lastly, we meet the prodigal son’s older brother, who cannot believe his ears. “What in God’s name is going on??” he wants to know and he is outraged to learn that his father is throwing a party for that lazy lout who wasted his money. Did the elder brother ever join the party? We will never know but I can imagine him pouting out in the field, resentful of how his brother was treated, mumbling to himself, “Life ain’t fair!”

There is no doubt in my mind that Jesus shared this parable with the skeptical Pharisees and scribes to make the point that our God is forgiving and compassionate. A more fitting title for this parable would be the Prodigal Father, for prodigal means extravagant and lavish, and like the father in this parable; God lavishly forgives when the need arises.

The Pharisees could not understand why Jesus spent so much time with sinners. Their response to the Father’s generous welcome was the same as the Prodigal son’s older brother. The Pharisees and perhaps some of you can’t accept the notion that God’s love, compassion, and eternal life are gifts, generously given and that God holds no grudges for what any sinner has done or failed to do.

There are times when someone is forgiven and we might feel a tinge of resentment and argue, “He got off scot free when he deserved to be punished.” Most recently, the actor, Jussie Smollett, was spared prosecution in Chicago for what he did, much to the dismay and chagrin of that city’s mayor.

It’s justice that both the mayor and the older son are calling for. Justice seeks repayment for the hurt caused, but the prodigal Father instead cries for mercy and forgiveness.

Contrary to what the Pharisees think, our God is not a God of vengeance, waiting to pounce on us when we stray from the straight and narrow. Much to their consternation, God loves the sinner even while he or she sins. God runs to meet us, as did the Prodigal Father, to forgive us. Before you can say, “Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” God embraces us with lavish love, clothes us with a garment of innocence and celebrates whenever a sinner repents.

How freeing and uplifting the experience of forgiveness must have been for the prodigal son and can be for us. We are also uplifted when we follow the example of the Prodigal Father and extend forgiveness whenever we have been wronged, which the older son chose not to do.

Forgiveness does not mean liking someone or agreeing with them or setting oneself up for repeated hurt. Forgiveness means being open to reconciliation and healing; to restoring a broken relationship, hoping that by letting go of offenses just as God does, the future will be different from the past.

Granted it is not easy to forgive others yet Jesus once told Peter to forgive his brother 77 times, that is, “as often as it takes” just as God lavishly forgives us. Many like to think, “Well, that’s fine in theory, but lets use some common sense. If you forgive over and over, you’re simply inviting people to do whatever they want to do.” That retort is based on a skewed notion of what forgiveness is and isn’t. Forgiveness isn’t condoning or excusing the offense.

Forgiveness is what we can choose to do, regardless of what the other person does or doesn’t do. We don’t have to wait for an apology. Notice that on the cross Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

When the injury is severe, forgiveness will likely take time. But many hurts we hold onto injure our pride more than anything else. We hold on to them as though nursing our hurt feelings is more comfortable than moving on with life. Such was the mindset of the jealous older son, unwilling to celebrate the prodigal son’s return.

Such an attitude leaves us imprisoned; we are like the souls in hell whom CS Lewis describes in his book, The Great Divorce. They can take a bus ride to heaven anytime they want, but when they do, heaven frightens them. Most return to the hell of their own making. They are more comfortable holding onto their anger, resentments, and self-pity than the freedom that happens when we forgive. Does that describe you? When our hearts are closed, like clenched fists, to the notion of forgiving others, than we will remain closed to receiving God’s forgiveness. Forgiving others is probably the hardest thing we have to do at times yet if we desire to feel God’s forgiveness, then we must also practice the art of forgiveness on ourselves and others.

Hardly a day goes by when we aren’t reminded that life can end abruptly and cruelly, perhaps an airplane crash, a mass shooting, a natural disaster, or a traffic accident, to name just a few examples. In the gospel, we were told that some Galileans were killed in the temple. This prompted Jesus to ask if the victims were greater sinners than other Galileans because they suffered such a fate. His question doesn’t surprise me since many individuals presume that God decides the fate of people based on their conduct.

In his book, Why Bad Things happen to Good People, Rabbi Harold Kushner makes the point that God gives us free will so that we could love both God and others. Because of that, God cannot control our lives. Most tragedies happen not because God wills them but because people happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They made the choice that put them there and as a consequence they became victims. God knows the moment when we will die, but God doesn’t decide the manner of our death. Death happens as a consequence of the choices we make along the way.

On Ash Wednesday, as I put ashes on everyone’s forehead, I said, “Repent and believe in the Gospel.” Did the words sink in since then? In the Gospel today, Jesus cautioned his listeners twice, “If you do not repent, you will all perish as they did!” Death is one fate none of us can avoid, but as we know, eternal life is a whole new ball game. When we take our last breath, will we be welcomed to the eternal life of heaven or will we perish in the painful eternity called hell?

In the meantime, are we creating another form of hell for ourselves? Being human, we are like the Galileans. We are sinners so we too can perish because like the Israelites, we stumble into evil desires, fall into grumbling, and drift away from God, forgetting all the benefits that God is offering us. Sin, that is, any evil act that violates God’s will, has consequences, not only for the victim but also for the sinner. Unless we repent, we can find ourselves carrying around much dead weight that we call guilt.

Set in Paraguay in the late 18thcentury, the 1986 film, The Mission, recounts the Jesuits’ attempt to evangelize the Guarani Indians. One scene I will never forget is the climb by Rodrigo Mendoza. This humble penitent, once a proud army officer, now struggles to carry himself and his dead weight up to the top of Iguazu Falls. His dead weight is a huge net, tied to him with a thick rope that contains his helmet, sword and breastplate, instruments of his violent sinful past.

Like Mendoza, we struggle to move onwards and upwards on our life journey, hoping to eventually be with God in heaven. But often the weight of our sinful past holds us back and drags us down as surely as Mendoza’s net, stuffed with his sinful souvenirs, held him back on his arduous climb.

When he reached the top, Mendoza’s load was cut loose by his confessor. He was freed of his dead weight, just as we yearn to be freed from the sins of our past. And the great message of Jesus is that we can! While many times we can’t undo the past or pretend our past didn’t happen, the rope of guilt, which keeps us bound to our past sins can be cut, allowing us to continue our life journey with a greater sense of hope and peace. That is the central message of our faith.

The sacrament of reconciliation, known also as penance or confession, offers us an alternative to lugging around the dead weight of guilt by providing us an opportunity to take responsibility for the wrong we have done or the good that we have left undone. This sacrament provides the means for us to repent and draw closer to God rather than remain distant and estranged.

The Church teaches us that sin is either mortal or venial. While we can obtain forgiveness for our venial sins through a sincere act of contrition, we need to confess our mortal sins, which are defined as deliberate gravely offensive acts done with full knowledge of the evil of the act and full consent.

Granted, it is not easy to admit our sins to another person yet that is one of the values of this sacrament. Our personal confession merits a personal response and a personal act of forgiveness. After listening to the penitent, a confessor will often extend a penance that offers a spiritual prescription for healing based on the sins that were confessed.

We seek forgiveness for the specific sins we confess because these sins are the dead weight that weigh down on our conscience. How uplifting it is to hear the words of absolution spoken by a priest on behalf of Christ and his parting words, “Go in peace, your sins are forgiven.”

Many, I suspect, shy away from the sacrament because they imagine the priest will think less of them. Not so. What impresses many priests is not the sins they hear but the humility and the courage they encounter.

Jesus calls us to repentance, not a one time change of heart, but an ongoing, daily transformation of our lives. We are called to live the life we sing about in today’s psalm, blessing God’s holy name, forgetting not his benefits, but giving thanks for his kindness and mercy. Through this sacramental encounter, Christ seeks to fertilize our lives with his love and mercy, so that by turning away from sin and being faithful to the gospel, we can bear much fruit.

Poor Peter! He and the other apostles had left everything behind to follow this itinerant rabbi from Nazareth. Their native land has been under Roman occupation and they wanted to change the situation. They envisioned Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah who would liberate Judea from the yoke of the imperial Romans and now he has just been told, “The Son of Man must suffer many things, be rejected by the elders and the high priests, be killed and be raised on the third day. If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”

Jesus said that when he first predicted that he would suffer at the hands of the chief priests and scribes. Eight days later he took Peter, James, and John and went up the mountain to pray. There, his glory is revealed to strengthen them for the scandal of the cross that they would soon witness. The transfiguration allowed the apostles to see Jesus in a new light, not as the earthly liberator they had envisioned him to be but as one truly sent by God. You could say that they too were transformed that day.

Years later when Paul wrote to the Christian community at Philippi, he called them more deeply into the Christian way of seeing things. He cautioned that many in their community were living as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their god was their stomach; their minds were occupied with earthly things. “But our citizenship,” he tells them, “is in heaven.” By embracing the risen Christ and all that Christ stands for, they could look forward to being transformed as well.

Two thousand years later, we hear the same message, but are we listening? Many Catholics put on outward facades of being religious but inwardly they tend to focus only on their wants and “earthly things.” They are too preoccupied with worldly issues to notice how God is trying to transform them into future citizens of heaven.

In his book, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Steve Covey tells of an experience he had on a New York subway one Sunday. The passengers were sitting quietly; some were reading the paper, others were dozing, some were simply contemplating. It was a rather peaceful scene. At one stop a man and his children entered the car. Soon the children were yelling back and forth, throwing things and even grabbing things. The scene was very disturbing and yet the father just sat there alongside Steve and did nothing. Feeling irritated, Steve wondered how this man could let his children run around so wildly.

With patience and restraint, he said to the man, “Sir, your children are really disturbing a lot of people. I wonder if you couldn’t control them a little bit more?” The man lifted his gaze as though he was just beginning to notice what was happening. “Oh, you’re right,” he said. “I guess I should do something about it. We just came from the hospital where their mother died about an hour ago. I don’t know what to think and I guess they don’t know how to handle it either.”

Steve sat there speechless. “Can you imagine how I felt at the moment? Suddenly I saw things differently. Because I saw differently, I felt differently. I behaved differently. My irritation vanished. I didn’t have to worry about controlling my attitude or my behavior. My heart was filled with this man’s pain. Feelings of compassion and sympathy flowed freely.”

He then asked the man, “Oh, I’m so sorry! Can you tell me about it? What can I do to help?” Notice that nothing changed in the scene. The same people, the same irritation, the same kids. What changed was Covey’s way of seeing it all and with that new outlook came a change of attitude.

Likewise, we too will see the world differently when we truly recognize who Jesus is and can be in our daily lives.

Perhaps you have seen the movie, The Passion of the Christ, which realistically depicts the cruel violence done to Jesus in the last hours of his life. More disturbing to me than the horrendous brutality was the portrayal of Satan, lurking in the background, confident that he could break anyone, including Jesus. Despite the torture inflicted upon him, one could see the passion in Jesus to fight evil to the very end.

Many walked away from that movie in silence, subdued by what they had seen, as though they too were transformed.

The one line in today’s gospel that catches my attention is “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” Whether we are rich or poor, well or ill, young or old, we are told, as were Peter, James and John, to listen to Jesus, to really listen and for good reason. The transfigured Christ calls us to the Lenten work of transforming ourselves, to transform the sadness, coldness and despair within us into the love, compassion, and hope for others to then experience Christ.

We are not perfect nor can anyone expect us to be perfect. But hopefully we can see that God is at work in us, slowly but surely transforming us into the image of Christ that we are called to be. Like Paul’s disciples in ancient Philippi, may we commit ourselves to Jesus as future citizens of heaven through prayer, fasting and almsgiving. Listening to Jesus, through meditation and scripture enables us to see the world differently and respond accordingly, transformed by his passion into becoming his true disciples.

In our most frequently recited prayer, the one composed by Jesus, we ask our Father to “lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” Do you really think God would ever lead us into temptation? No, what we are really asking, according to the Catechism of the Church, is “Do not let us yield to temptation but save us from the evil one!” 

We think of temptation as the cause of sin but for many early Christians, temptation also meant a time of testing; a time for us to choose between being faithful to God or not. In the gospel, we find Jesus passing the test with flying colors by demonstrating loyalty to his Father.

Each of us is put to the test daily. Everyday we are led into temptations of one kind or another because we have the freedom to choose throughout the day. Perhaps they are not so dramatic as the ones we find in the gospel, but then our resistance to Satan is not as dramatic or strong either. While Jesus was prepared to resist temptation, we sometimes prepare ourselves instead to give in.

I am reminded of a young boy whose father told him not to go swimming in the pond near their home. One evening, he came home carrying a wet bathing suit.  “Where have you been?” his father asked. “Swimming in the pond,” the boy confessed. “Didn’t I tell you not to swim there?” “Yes, sir,” the boy replied. “Then why did you?” “Well, dad,” the boy explained, “I had my bathing suit with me and I could not resist the temptation.” “So, why did you take your bathing suit with you?” his father asked. The boy replied, “So I’d be prepared to swim just in case I was tempted!”

The devil, whose name in Greek means “the deceiver,” seems to have a bottomless sack of tempting tricks available for his use, including the notion that he doesn’t even exist!

His methods and approaches vary from person to person because people differ, but his strategy remains the same. Every time the devil succeeds and we sin, the next temptation becomes a little stronger and more luring; and the fall from grace becomes easier. Before long, we become oblivious to the gravity and consequences of our sins.

The essence of sin is making the choice to go against the God’s will, as we understand it to be. Perhaps you are now making some choices which you regard as either not sinful at all or at least not a serious sin. Choices that the Church has always considered grave sins, like skipping Mass on Sundays because you want to sleep in or that’s the only time your family can be together. Or sexual activity outside of marriage, like indulging in pornography. Or malicious gossip, that is, speaking ill of someone. 

If we are inclined to reject the notion of Church authority, which many have done when it comes to moral issues like abortion, artificial contraception and euthanasia, or believe that we can be good Christians without the moral guidance of the church and its sacraments, especially confession, then we can be fairly sure that the devil is poking into our lives, deceiving us into believing that our wrongful acts are not harmful. Yes, Satan likes those who give into his luring appeal to ignore God’s will that is conveyed to us through the teaching authority of the Church, the magisterium.

Since the time when Eve was tempted in the Garden of Eden, human beings have often blamed others for the sins they themselves commit and the temptations they give into. The older ones among us may remember Flip Wilson’s famous excuse, “The devil made me do it.” Well, I got news for you; the devil doesn’t make us sin. He lures us, but we make the final choice to sin.

Archbishop Fulton Sheen said, “You are not tempted because you are evil; you are tempted because you are human.” Alas, we are sinners by nature. The devil succeeds at preventing us from doing the good that is in us through distractions, discouragement and despair or through the criticism and cynicism of others. 

Pope Francis reminds us of the threat sin poses to the world, “When we fail to live as children of God, we often behave in a destructive way towards our neighbors and other creatures and ourselves as well since we begin to think more or less consciously that we can use them as we will. The mentality expressed in the slogans ‘I want it all and I want it now!’ and ‘Too much is never enough,’ gains the upper hand.”

Most temptations invite us to do things we already know are wrong, wasteful or harmful. As irresistible as any temptation may be, we are always given a choice. Like the young boy who left home with a bathing suit, are we setting our selves up to sin or like Jesus, are we striving to resist sin? Keep in mind that we don’t have to face those moments alone. Paul tells us, our best defense against temptation is faith in Jesus. “Everyone who calls on the name of Jesus will be saved.” 

God endeavors to deliver us from evil; that is why Jesus came into the world.  We can resist temptation through prayer, almsgiving, and fasting. Each is an antidote for overcoming the urge to indulge in our own wants at the expense of others and to recognize that we are in need of redemption for what we have done or failed to do. Lent is an ideal time for us to venture into the desert offered by the sacrament of reconciliation. When we recognize and resist those old forms of temptations in our lives, then we know we are passing the test with flying colors!