Biblical Texts: Psalm 51, John 8v1-11
‘Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
Turn away from sin, and be faithful to Christ.’
For years the church has set aside today, Ash Wednesday, as the beginning of the Lenten season. We receive the sign of the cross, a sign of both death and salvation, on our foreheads, with ash from the Palm Crosses of the previous Easter. After the joy and celebration of the Christmas season, and the frivolity of Shrove Tuesday, these words of imposition are a somber reminder of our shared humanity, a fitting entry into the season of Lent. Traditionally, the period of Lent has been one where marriage was forbidden, except in extreme circumstances, for we are in a time of fasting and preparation. We are awaiting the arrival of Jesus in Jerusalem, the awful, yet life giving, reality of the cross, and the glorious resurrection that came after.
The passages we’ve heard today are a fitting start to our Lenten season. Psalm 51 gives us a window into David’s state of mind as he wrestles with the fallout of his moral failure with Bathsheba. After being challenged by Nathan the prophet, he is convicted of his sin, and prays for God’s mercy and restoration.
‘For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.
Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight.’
The David who desecrated a marriage and commanded murder, understands that he has broken God’s law.
‘Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit.’
The David who ran into adultery with hardly a thought, knows the depths he has sunk to, and understands that only God can lift him up.
‘For you have no delight in sacrifice; if I were to give you a burnt offering, you would not be pleased.
The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.’
The David who had hoped to build God’s temple in Jerusalem, a place where sacrifices would be offered daily, realises that burnt offerings are meaningless unless there is sorrow and remorse at his sin.
Someone recently told me they don’t like preaching about sin too often. Not because they don’t think it’s serious, but rather because they think most of us are already well aware we fall short. He figured it doesn’t take much introspection to realise we are broken and in need of saving. After all, it’s hard enough keeping our own standards, let alone God’s. David, it seems, did need Nathan to prod him, but once he has come to understand his sin, he knew it was only God who could give him peace. Just like David, we need God to cleanse us from sin, we need God to create a new heart in us, we need God to set things right.
Every Sunday in church, the liturgy calls us to confess and turn from our sin, but during Lent we take the time to consider more deeply our dependance on God, our need for the coming of Christ…for his life, death, and resurrection.
The lectionary for today pairs David’s Psalm with a curious story in John 8. Jesus is teaching in the Temple, that earthly reminder of God’s covenant relationship with his people, and the place where daily sacrifices are made, when the Pharisees and scribes bring him an unnamed woman caught in adultery. In a truly humiliating moment they stand her before Jesus, loudly proclaim her transgression for all to hear, and ask Jesus to pronounce judgement.
‘Moses commanded us to stone such women,’ they gladly proclaim. Then looking at Jesus they ask, ‘but what do you say?’ This is not the only time in the Gospels teachers of the law endeavour to trip Jesus up. In their efforts to discredit him they often pose questions intended to back him into a corner, questions that seem like a catch-22. Choose to stone the woman, and Jesus risks incurring the wrath of the Romans; choose to let her go, and it seems he is acting against God’s law.
If you’ve been coming to church for a while, you may have heard this story many times, but it’s a curious one. There is one major plot point we don’t get. John tells us Jesus stoops to write on the ground, twice, but what does he write? John doesn’t say.
Perhaps he writes a portion of the law of Moses? After all, in their eagerness to confront Jesus, the woman’s accusers seem to have forgotten a key actor in this play. Adultery is not a one person affair. They are happy to humiliate the woman, and potentially have her stoned, and yet the man is markedly absent. The law of Moses is clear that both parties are guilty.
Perhaps, as some have suggested, Jesus writes out some of the sins he knows her accusers are guilty of? Their consciences are pierced, momentarily melting their pride, and they realise they are in no place to judge. One by one, the eldest first, they depart.
Or perhaps Jesus writes a portion of Psalm 51? The Israelite King in whose line Jesus was born, the King whose kingdom was promised an eternal throne, the King who was said to be after God’s own heart, confessing his own sin of adultery and murder, and pleading for God’s mercy and grace.
We may never know what was written, but we know the result. And so, with her accusers gone, the woman stands before Jesus, her saviour and her God. She does not need anyone to preach to her about her sin, she is well aware of her failing. Instead, Jesus gives her exactly what she does need. In an echo of his words in John 3v17, Jesus does not condemn her, but neither does he affirm her sin. He knows her frailty, and he knows that sin will only bring pain and a broken relationship with her creator. Instead of condemnation, he brings his grace and his mercy, and sends her to live out her repentance. “Go then, and sin no more.”
As we begin this season of Lent, we are like both David and the unnamed woman, confronted with our sin, with our frailty. We are reminded that we are dust, and to dust we shall return. We know we have fallen short, we have missed the mark, we have chosen to go our own way. And like David and the woman, we are called to turn from that sin, and be faithful to Christ. A faithfulness made possible not through condemnation, but through his grace and mercy.
‘Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
Turn away from sin, and be faithful to Christ.’