International Women’s Day was this past Tuesday, which I imagine most of you know. And March is Women’s History Month. In that context it seems particularly fitting that today’s Gospel features a woman publicly shamed in a culture that views women as property rather than as persons. Women’s history, past and present, is filled with gender-specific violence done as a direct result of women being classified as ‘property.’ In South Sudan, for example, a NY Times correspondent reports that army-affiliated militias are raping and abducting women and girls as PAYMENT for their work! In his article, [“Mass Rape a Common Weapon in South Sudan Conflict”] Nick Cumming-Bruce writes that these militias have an agreement with government forces allowing them to do what they want and take what they want. They “have stolen cattle and other property,” under this agreement, he says, in addition to abducting the women. Clearly the women and girls are seen merely as another possession that is theirs for the taking.
The woman standing before Jesus in today’s Gospel is also considered property. She is a pawn in the religious power game carried out by the scribes and Pharisees against Jesus. She has no meaning to them other than as a lever for the trap they’ve set. She is a non-person in their world. How often have we seen this theme play out in the political discourse of our day? How often have we watched our church officials point fingers at victims of abuse while acting as though they themselves are guiltless? More importantly, how often have we judged someone else while being unable or unwilling to admit our own mistakes, even to ourselves? Have we ever demeaned someone else, even subtly, in a play for greater influence or value in the eyes of others? And as our own political system devolves into a megaphone of bigotry, depersonalizing others as a proposed step toward power, we can see the result of this ugly path writ large on TV screens across America.
The lesson of today’s Gospel is all-too obvious, and all-too necessary given the very human tendency to achieve personal goals by trampling on the rights and dignity of others, to avoid blame by placing blame, and to deny personal weaknesses while harshly condemning others’ wrongdoings. These judgments bend our souls to the ground. They rivet attention on the past and prevent us from seeing where we are now or where we are headed. This can be dangerous if, blind to our own shortcomings and powered by anger or ambition, we are headed into an abyss.
The woman in today’s Gospel is a stand-in for all those being marginalized and repudiated as outsiders, and those treated as non-persons today. Her presence challenges some of the stereotypes that have perpetuated gender-bias, discrimination and aggression toward women throughout the centuries.
In the inclusive lectionary we use here in Sophia Christi, we encounter words like “person”, and “one” in place of “son,” “father,” “woman” and “man.” The lectionary publishers have been committed to inclusive and non-gender-specific language for decades in their biblical translations. In most passages this works remarkably well and helps all of us to feel included in the stories. But in this particular passage about the woman caught in adultery, using the neutral word “person” can obscure Jesus’ radical acknowledgment of the dignity and personhood of the woman brought before him. He engages her, speaks directly to her, listens to her answer and responds respectfully to what she says. He actually sees HER. In a culture where infidelity may have been forced on her rather than having been her choice, Jesus empowers her. “From now on,” he says, “avoid this sin.” In saying those words he affirms her right to make her own choices and offers her the path to new life.
Yes, there is mercy in his refusal to condemn this woman. Yes, there is an obvious lesson here about the folly of judging others because none of us can claim to be faultless ourselves. But embedded in that all-important lesson I see an objectified woman redeemed by Jesus’ recognition of her as significant, as a person in her own right, as one who is capable of withstanding the humiliation of society, and is unquestionably worthy of his attention, and of the new life he has to offer.
The finish line Paul talks about in his letter to the Phillipians is a place of victory bought by love. The goal he envisions is one of unity with all others and the cosmos—oneness in the eternal body of Christ. Teilhard de Chardin calls this “ultrahumanity”—becoming one mind and one heart in love. Love sees the woman caught in adultery, as well as the scribes and Pharisees, through the eyes of Jesus as he bends to the earth to write in its dust. Love abstains from defensive postures and confrontation. It makes simple statements that blame no one, that beg for reflection, affirm choice, refuse to condemn. It invites everyone to follow the path toward greater wholeness and more abundant life. Love’s goal is water in the desert and rivers in the wasteland for everyone to drink.
Jesus IS doing something new in today’s Gospel. His respect for all the persons he encounters in this passage is unmistakable, even those scheming to trap him. But his regard for the woman is particularly significant as it brings the power of the Gospel to bear on policies and practices that seek to deprive women of their personhood and moral agency. May his writing in the dust of the earth be a sign of the Gospel’s call to end violence against women who continue to be regarded as property, either explicitly or subtly, in nearly every culture to this day, including our own. May new life sprout in the wasteland as we move toward Paul’s vision, becoming one mind and one heart in love.
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