John 8:1-11 - Throwing Stones & the Mirror of Conscience
The story of the woman caught in adultery in John 8 is, I believe, more than just an episode in the life of Jesus; it is a timeless parable of the human condition and the Divine response.
As we explore the story in the context of John’s Gospel, we find the story is set in the midst the Festival of Booths, a time when the Jewish people commemorated their journey through the wilderness and celebrated God’s providence. It was a festival of light and water, reminding them of God’s guidance through the desert and provision from the rock.
Amid this celebration and a time of revelry in Jerusalem, with people longing for light to dispel their darkness, the religious leaders bring a woman caught in adultery before Jesus. Their intention is clearly not justice, otherwise they would have brought the man along with the women. Instead their intention is entrapment. They wish to trap Jesus, pouncing on the more vulnerable woman as bait for the trap, and using the law as a weapon rather than a guide to righteousness.
On the surface, this story is about judgment and mercy, law and grace. But I believe that beneath those themes lies an even deeper spiritual truth. In what is sometimes called ‘the Perennial Philosophy’—the wisdom that unites and lies at the heart of all the deeper spiritual traditions—this story speaks of the universal human tendency to condemn others to avoid confronting our own inner darkness.
The accusers represent the ego, that part of us that asserts superiority through judgment and condemnation. The woman on the other hand represents the vulnerable soul—caught, exposed, and shamed. And Jesus represents the awakened consciousness, that mostly lies hidden within every person, that sees through illusion seeing with deeper understanding and wisdom and which calls forth a deeper truth.
In response to being confronted by the women’s angry accusers, Jesus stops, bends down and begins to write in the sand. In doing so, as Jesus stoops to write on the ground, he is not merely buying time or ignoring the crowd. He is I believe, grounding himself in silence and presence—reminding us that wisdom emerges from stillness, not reaction.
This past week, I received what came across as a heated and an angry email. It was quite overwhelming with certain words capitalised which gave the effect of feeling a little like I was being shouted at over email. I should add that it had nothing to do with either Dromore or Banbridge but rather a wider Presbytery and denominational issue. My initial feeling was to get into reactive mode and I realised that I needed to take a step back a breathe a little so that I could respond, not out of emotion, but with a clear head with some deeper understanding.
In all the deeper spiritual traditions, silence is often seen as the doorway to truth. In that moment of writing on the earth, Jesus grounds himself, finds his center, and in doing so embodies the still point where reaction and judgment ceases and where clarity, awareness and insight begins to dawn.
The words Jesus finally speaks, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone”, are not a rejection of justice or righteousness but an invitation to self-knowledge. Jesus, in effect, holds up a mirror to the accusers, inviting them to see their own participation in the brokenness of the world. It is a truth that St Paul expresses in a different way when he says in Romans 3:23 “For all have sinned, and fallen short of the glory of God”. We all have our failings and weaknesses, but when we stand ready to hurl condemnatory stones at others we tend to weigh up another’s weakness against our own strengths conveniently forgetting those places where we too fall short.
In response to Jesus invitation for those without sin to throw the first stone, one by one, the accusers leave, confronted not by Jesus but by the light of their own conscience – the light of God within them that they had failed to access. This is the deeper spiritual insight: transformation begins not by condemning others but by confronting our own illusions. The ego wants to project its darkness outward, but the soul must reclaim that darkness, to own it, acknowledge it in ourselves, and to allow it to be transformed by the light of Divine love that is our truer and deeper nature.
As the story unfolds, when the woman is left standing alone with Jesus, he asks her, “Where are they? Has no one condemned you?” And she replies, “No one, sir.” And Jesus responds, “Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.”
Notice the profound truth here: grace precedes transformation. Jesus does not first demand that she change and then offer forgiveness. He forgives her without condition, inviting her to let go of the false self that seeks fulfilment in all the wrong places and to awaken to a new way of being. In the book of Romans, St Paul expresses this truth in a different way when he says: “Christ died for us, while we were yet sinners”. And earlier in John’s Gospel the writer of John has Jesus say: “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” John 3:17. Divine grace precedes transformation.
Interpreting the story from this perspective, Jesus embodies the divine awareness that sees through the illusion of separateness. In this story, the woman and her accusers are not fundamentally different—they are all caught in the web of ignorance, clinging to judgment and shame. The awakened heart sees beyond those divisions and knows that condemnation only deepens separation.
And so this story challenges us to see ourselves in both the woman and her accusers. Even though we may struggle to admit it, both live inside of us. The perennial wisdom calls us to examine where we still hold stones of judgment, where we project our darkness onto others rather than owning it within ourselves. But in addition to the woman and her accusers who dwell as hidden parts of ourselves, sometimes denied and sometimes expressed, the awakened consciousness of Christ that embraces both without condemnation, is also present within each of us
Lent is a season to awaken to the truth that divine grace is already present, waiting for us to see through our illusions and receive it. As we drop our stones of condemnation, we find that we, too, are forgiven and set free. In that realization, the inner light of true wisdom and compassion can shine forth—just as Jesus declared immediately after this story: “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12). John O’Donohue writes “The soul redeems and transfigures everything because the soul is the divine space.” - the place from which the Light of God shines forth.
To live from this light means letting go of the ego’s need to condemn and embracing the soul’s capacity for true insight, wisdom, love and forgiveness.
It means recognizing that every act of condemnation and judgment is rooted in fear and every act of true wisdom is rooted in Divine Love.
In this Lenten season, as next time we find ourselves ready to pick up stones to entrap, accuse and condemn, may we gently question our quick judgments and blanket condemnations, that we might open ourselves to receive grace, and become bearers of the light that awakens and transforms.
Amen.
The story of the woman caught in adultery in John 8 is, I believe, more than just an episode in the life of Jesus; it is a timeless parable of the human condition and the Divine response.
As we explore the story in the context of John’s Gospel, we find the story is set in the midst the Festival of Booths, a time when the Jewish people commemorated their journey through the wilderness and celebrated God’s providence. It was a festival of light and water, reminding them of God’s guidance through the desert and provision from the rock.
Amid this celebration and a time of revelry in Jerusalem, with people longing for light to dispel their darkness, the religious leaders bring a woman caught in adultery before Jesus. Their intention is clearly not justice, otherwise they would have brought the man along with the women. Instead their intention is entrapment. They wish to trap Jesus, pouncing on the more vulnerable woman as bait for the trap, and using the law as a weapon rather than a guide to righteousness.
On the surface, this story is about judgment and mercy, law and grace. But I believe that beneath those themes lies an even deeper spiritual truth. In what is sometimes called ‘the Perennial Philosophy’—the wisdom that unites and lies at the heart of all the deeper spiritual traditions—this story speaks of the universal human tendency to condemn others to avoid confronting our own inner darkness.
The accusers represent the ego, that part of us that asserts superiority through judgment and condemnation. The woman on the other hand represents the vulnerable soul—caught, exposed, and shamed. And Jesus represents the awakened consciousness, that mostly lies hidden within every person, that sees through illusion seeing with deeper understanding and wisdom and which calls forth a deeper truth.
In response to being confronted by the women’s angry accusers, Jesus stops, bends down and begins to write in the sand. In doing so, as Jesus stoops to write on the ground, he is not merely buying time or ignoring the crowd. He is I believe, grounding himself in silence and presence—reminding us that wisdom emerges from stillness, not reaction.
This past week, I received what came across as a heated and an angry email. It was quite overwhelming with certain words capitalised which gave the effect of feeling a little like I was being shouted at over email. I should add that it had nothing to do with either Dromore or Banbridge but rather a wider Presbytery and denominational issue. My initial feeling was to get into reactive mode and I realised that I needed to take a step back a breathe a little so that I could respond, not out of emotion, but with a clear head with some deeper understanding.
In all the deeper spiritual traditions, silence is often seen as the doorway to truth. In that moment of writing on the earth, Jesus grounds himself, finds his center, and in doing so embodies the still point where reaction and judgment ceases and where clarity, awareness and insight begins to dawn.
The words Jesus finally speaks, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone”, are not a rejection of justice or righteousness but an invitation to self-knowledge. Jesus, in effect, holds up a mirror to the accusers, inviting them to see their own participation in the brokenness of the world. It is a truth that St Paul expresses in a different way when he says in Romans 3:23 “For all have sinned, and fallen short of the glory of God”. We all have our failings and weaknesses, but when we stand ready to hurl condemnatory stones at others we tend to weigh up another’s weakness against our own strengths conveniently forgetting those places where we too fall short.
In response to Jesus invitation for those without sin to throw the first stone, one by one, the accusers leave, confronted not by Jesus but by the light of their own conscience – the light of God within them that they had failed to access. This is the deeper spiritual insight: transformation begins not by condemning others but by confronting our own illusions. The ego wants to project its darkness outward, but the soul must reclaim that darkness, to own it, acknowledge it in ourselves, and to allow it to be transformed by the light of Divine love that is our truer and deeper nature.
As the story unfolds, when the woman is left standing alone with Jesus, he asks her, “Where are they? Has no one condemned you?” And she replies, “No one, sir.” And Jesus responds, “Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.”
Notice the profound truth here: grace precedes transformation. Jesus does not first demand that she change and then offer forgiveness. He forgives her without condition, inviting her to let go of the false self that seeks fulfilment in all the wrong places and to awaken to a new way of being. In the book of Romans, St Paul expresses this truth in a different way when he says: “Christ died for us, while we were yet sinners”. And earlier in John’s Gospel the writer of John has Jesus say: “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” John 3:17. Divine grace precedes transformation.
Interpreting the story from this perspective, Jesus embodies the divine awareness that sees through the illusion of separateness. In this story, the woman and her accusers are not fundamentally different—they are all caught in the web of ignorance, clinging to judgment and shame. The awakened heart sees beyond those divisions and knows that condemnation only deepens separation.
And so this story challenges us to see ourselves in both the woman and her accusers. Even though we may struggle to admit it, both live inside of us. The perennial wisdom calls us to examine where we still hold stones of judgment, where we project our darkness onto others rather than owning it within ourselves. But in addition to the woman and her accusers who dwell as hidden parts of ourselves, sometimes denied and sometimes expressed, the awakened consciousness of Christ that embraces both without condemnation, is also present within each of us
Lent is a season to awaken to the truth that divine grace is already present, waiting for us to see through our illusions and receive it. As we drop our stones of condemnation, we find that we, too, are forgiven and set free. In that realization, the inner light of true wisdom and compassion can shine forth—just as Jesus declared immediately after this story: “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12). John O’Donohue writes “The soul redeems and transfigures everything because the soul is the divine space.” - the place from which the Light of God shines forth.
To live from this light means letting go of the ego’s need to condemn and embracing the soul’s capacity for true insight, wisdom, love and forgiveness.
It means recognizing that every act of condemnation and judgment is rooted in fear and every act of true wisdom is rooted in Divine Love.
In this Lenten season, as next time we find ourselves ready to pick up stones to entrap, accuse and condemn, may we gently question our quick judgments and blanket condemnations, that we might open ourselves to receive grace, and become bearers of the light that awakens and transforms.
Amen.
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