SUNDAY REFLECTIONS | Fifth Sunday of Lent

By Social Communications

Published on April 6, 2025

John 8:1–11 — “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.”

Try to enter the scene with your heart. It’s early in the morning, and Jesus is teaching in the temple. The people have come to listen—not just with their ears, but with their hunger for something more. And just as He is speaking, a group of scribes and Pharisees interrupts. They drag in a woman—alone, ashamed, caught in sin.

They throw her down in the middle of the crowd. Not in a private place, but in the temple—the holiest place in Jerusalem. “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of adultery. In the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. What do you say?”

But this is no search for justice. It is a trap. The woman is being used as bait to catch Jesus in a contradiction. They care little for her soul, and even less for mercy. All eyes turn to Jesus. The air is heavy with tension.

And then—silence.

Jesus bends down. He does not rush to answer. He draws something in the dust with His finger. We do not know what He wrote. Maybe it was a word, maybe a name, maybe nothing. But in that stillness, the mob grows restless. They press Him for an answer.

And He straightens up and says, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”

Another silence. This one heavier than the first.

Then, one by one, beginning with the elders, the stones fall. The accusers walk away. None of them is without sin. None of them can throw the first stone.

Now, there are only two left: Jesus and the woman. The crowd is gone. The law is silent. The shame hangs in the air.

Jesus speaks to her—not with condemnation, but with compassion. “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

“No one, sir.”

“Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.”

What a moment. Mercy and truth meet. Justice and love embrace. Jesus does not deny her sin. He does not pretend it was nothing. But He also does not define her by it. He calls her to conversion, not condemnation. He gives her a way forward.

This is the heart of Lent.

It’s not about judgment. It’s not about pretending we are pure or hiding our sins. It’s about bringing our brokenness into the light of Christ—not to be crushed by it, but to be healed.

The woman caught in adultery is not just a figure in the Gospel. She is each of us. We have all sinned. We have all made choices we regret. We have all been caught—maybe not publicly, but inwardly, in the truth of our conscience. And yet, Jesus does not turn away. He does not throw a stone. He stoops down into the dust of our lives, lifts us up, and says, “Neither do I condemn you.”

This is not cheap forgiveness. It comes with a call: “Go, and sin no more.” Mercy is not an excuse to stay in sin—it’s the power to leave it behind. Jesus does not only forgive the woman; He restores her dignity and invites her to begin again.

As we approach Holy Week, the Church offers this Gospel as an invitation. Not to hide, not to despair, but to come forward. To step into the temple of our own hearts, where Jesus is waiting to look us in the eye—not with disappointment, but with love.

Are we ready to drop the stones we carry—against others, and against ourselves? Are we willing to step into the silence and hear the voice that tells us: You are not condemned. You are loved. You are called to live anew.?

This is Lent. Not a courtroom, but a place of encounter. Not a trial, but a turning point. And Jesus is already there, writing in the dust, waiting for us to come closer.