#THE PHARISEES ARE NOT VILLAINS. THEY ARE NOT EVIL. THEY ARE VICTIMS.

[the-casbah-way]

forgive the brief jesus chris superstar rant but. there is a very important difference between the pharisees being villains and the pharisees being antagonists. they're technically antagonists because they're actively working against the interests of our protagonist, but i don't believe they should ever be played as villains. they're not evil or bad or wrong. they're terrified just like literally everyone else in the show is, and their actions are completely justified. to me that's the entire point of the musical. it's not about christianity; it's about the impact the roman empire's brutal and violent imperialism had on everyone on all levels. including jesus and judas, but also including the pharisees, and even herod and pilate. when a powerful coloniser forces their presence on innocent people they are the only winners. everyone else suffers, even the puppet kings and high priests who look like they're reaping some sort of benefit from it all. that's roman propaganda. the romans kept native rulers like herod and caiaphas in power to maintain the illusion of provincial autonomy, and keep populations appeased and therefore under control. everyone in the show is acting out of fear of the romans. the one roman character we do see (pilate) is acting out of fear of his own emperor. it makes no sense to cast the pharisees as two dimensional Bad Guys, especially when the same productions that do that usually offer a sympathetic portrayal of pilate. it would be so easy to stage and direct a production in a way that makes it obvious that the pharisees are doing what they're doing because they truly have no choice, and not because they're pure evil and want to kill jesus for the sake of it. it's not only an antisemitic trope but also undermines a really important theme of the musical. if you can see the humanity in the violent roman governor installed forcefully on conquered land then you can afford some humanity for the pharisees too. they are victims of pilate and victims of rome just like everyone else

[headcannonballs]

I love ITV's Poirot and I love David Suchet, but I hate hate hate the episode for Murder on the Orient Express. It was the one episode that made me question if David Suchet's Poirot ever really got what Agatha Christie's Poirot was about (of it was just a superficial by-the-numbers portrayal).

Of course then the next episode is the Clocks and, despite some Irish patriotism from the villains there isn't as much of a morality play going on, so I've kind of forgiven Suchet for his oversight during Orient Express. But it remains one episode I do not like rewatching.

Spoilers ahead

What really put me off in that episode is the fact that Suchet's Poirot presumes to judge the people on whether what they did was morally right or wrong, in a way not unlike how the pharisees loved to cast the first stone. That cannot be more opposite to what Poirot is about.

Even the recent movie adaptation by Branagh (heavily criticised for its action scenes while forgetting the Big Four exists) wasn't as bad. There Poirot's dilemma was between the truth and his heart, which is a more acceptable dilemma to have (although I dare say searching for the truth is more a Shinichi Kudou trait than a Poirot one - there have been many cases where Poirot would have preferred to let sleeping dogs lie).

I think what the episode really missed out on is the reason driving Poirot to solve crimes, especially murders. Sure he takes the occasional small case or two that looks interesting, just to get those grey cells exercising. But his real motivation, why he was a police inspector, and then carried on as a private detective, has nothing to do with bringing justice to criminals.

There are more important things than finding the murderer. And justice is a fine word, but it is sometimes difficult to say exactly what one means by it. In my opinion, the important thing is to clear the innocent.

To be a protector of the innocent, that is what drives Poirot. More than justice or the truth, it is the innocent lives that can be saved which matters. That is why he choose to help Elinor Carlisle in Sad Cypress, that is why (after confirming with Carla she really wants the truth) he takes up the case in Five Little Pigs, that is why he chooses to save the unpleasant Carter in One Two Buckle My Shoe.

That is also why, he doesn't have any issue with letting the 12 people go in Murder on the Orient Express. Because the murder victim is not innocent, and no innocent person would suffer even if the murderers were not charged. In fact the only innocent person in the whole affair was the Countess Andrenyi, and the rest (while guilty) all suffered on their conscience. Thus it should not be surprising then, that Poirot should choose to advocate not turning them over to the police.

The innocent matters more than the guilty, the living matters more than the dead. This is a theme which Agatha Christie had always felt very strongly about. Be it Elephants Can Remember, Sleeping Murder or Ordeal By Innocence, she has always stressed that cold cases are at times better left as such, unless the innocent are in danger. And if so, the case should be taken to clear the innocent to live their lives freely, and not to try to punish the wrongdoers as such.

Remember that Judge Wargrave has always been portrayed as a villain, not a protagonist. And Mr. Shaitana paid the ultimate price for unearthing secrets that should have been left alone. Poirot had never seen himself as judge or jury, instead he tries to get the innocent out of the mess and leaves the rest to the police. That is even more apparent as he is not officially law enforcement anymore, but only a private detective.

I guess the main point is that Poirot may be arrogant, but he had never thought so highly of himself as to declare a moral judge on what people should or should not do. Instead he seeks to protect the innocent, their lives and their freedom. And as for the evil? Well, that is for the judge and jury to decide.

[ruffoverthinksthings]

God Help The Outcasts (Part 2): The Monster

“Jesus Christ, you’re an even uglier motherfucker in person than you are on TV!” is Claudine’s first reaction to meeting Quasimodo in person.

Quasimodo’s reply to that is to smile, and say, “Yeah, the make-up artists here in Auradon are real miracle workers.”

Claudine is initially incredibly distrustful of Quasimodo, both for his physical appearance (“the uglier the mug, the meaner the motherfucker” is a very reliable rule of thumb on the Isle), and how Frollo framed him as someone who would “betray those who cared and loved him for years, all for the sake of a demonic temptress who poisoned his mind, clouding it with lust and sweet lies.”

(“Did you even understand all the claims he was making? As in, knew the meaning of all the words he was throwing about?” Esmeralda thought of asking once.

“Hell no, but it sounded confusing and terrifying, a combination you learn to fear pretty quick,” Claudine replied.)

It doesn’t help that, as a break from his usual work of being a paid public speaker and a frequent accomplice of Esmeralda in all her political activities, he’s taking the time to help Claudine and the “Third Wave” VKs adjust to life in Auradon.

This entails both being their Remedial Goodness Teacher (filling all the desks in a class with only one teacher is a never-fail recipe for trouble), and being their legal guardian, as Ben already has his hands full being legally responsible for the Rotten Four, plus Freddie, CJ, and Zevon.

(In the case of the latter two, they’re on parole, or under a special manhunt lead by Ben.)

Because of the prior successes of the first two waves of VKs brought over to Auradon, the Third Wave is a LOT more expansive, requiring both good attendance, keeping up a certain grade point average, and “(Relatively) Good Behaviour” in Auradon Prep, alongside participating in at least one after-school activity that forces them to interact with, help, and try to integrate with the larger community outside the walls of the school.

Because she has experience talking to people, is one of the most well-spoken and literate of the VKs, and is one of the most conventionally attractive next to Evie, Claudine often ends up as the representative of the VKs alongside Quasimodo, being the one to shake hands and smile for the camera, sit in at meetings beside him, and be the speaker for all of her fellow VKs.

This all actually goes well and good for the first two weeks, when the media has eyes, interest, and most importantly, cameras and live feeds on the various programs, everyone doing their damndest to give the best shots they can and show that the VKs and the residents of Auradon ARE playing nice with each other, and can get along.

It all steadily starts to collapse as the media moves back to adorable puppies and kittens, the exploits of romantic couples from the non-royal classes going through their respective movie-esque adventures as their relationships develop, and the less serious and very topical, frivolous political scandals going on about Auradon.

(“Breaking News: The Quarterly Lace and Silk Union’s Meeting In Jeopardy as Organizers Unable to Decide What Colour the Linens Should Be!”)

Claudine steadily starts to see the ugliness and the plasticity behind Auradon’s sunny, happy facade, realizes that so many of these people are suffering just as much as the people on the Isle just in completely different ways, and gets absolutely disgusted by how willfully ignorant they are or how even they, the oppressed and suffering, decide to play it off as “complaining too much about nothing,” to outright encouraging them to just accept it as a part of their life, and that they should even be thankful for the fact that it is incredibly difficult for them and their children to get off the farm and into higher education.

“Just think of what Auradon would be like if we didn’t have you and our families tilling the fields, pouring all our love and hard work into growing the food on everyone’s tables!”

It doesn’t disgust her just yet to positive action, as it just reinforces her belief that the world is a completely shallow, awful, judgmental place where everyone’s lying to everyone, sunny smiles and good behaviour are only for not getting thrown onto the Isle or suffering Maleficent’s wrath; people talk bad about you behind your back all the time; and beauty really is only skin deep as she meets plenty of attractive people just as petty and ugly as she is on the inside.

“The only difference between us is, I’ll happily admit I’m a bitch, they keep on believing they’re perfect little angels who can do no wrong.”

It bothers her even more that Quasimodo is still so incredibly nice and kind in the face of all this plasticity and insults, the odd mean-spirited joke or unintentional insensitivity as these past two decades have done him no favours.

He never gets angry, he ignores them, and like with Claudine’s first meeting, he joins in with the joking at his expense.

Meanwhile, Claudine is constantly firing jabs back, spends quite a lot of time on her new phone thinking up the worst and most vicious burns to her various “Pharisees” both online and offline, and happily “flies her bitch flag high” because it means she’s not hypocritical like they are.

It all comes to a head when during a speech at a big community event at a Christian church, an ill-timed joke from the MC and a sleepless night spent in Flitter wars combine, and Claudine explodes in a flood of vitriol and hatred, teaching many young children and AKs an entire dictionary’s worth of “colourful language” before giving them a handful of visual references for rude gestures before the Royal Guard finally succeed in hauling her off the stage.

(As with my fanfic Reunions, hauling away an actor, and hauling away an actual violent, angry, and dangerous individual are two VERY different things.)

Fittingly enough, Claudine and Quasimodo end up locked together in the office of the priest.

“I’m not apologizing for anything I said back there, if that’s what you’re going to ask me to do,” Claudine asks as she perches on the desk.

“Is this the kind of person you want to be, Claudine?” Quasimodo asks quietly.

“No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t want to be the daughter of holier than thou horndog, only here because your new king wanted to do something different,” Claudine snaps.

“I don’t mean your past, Claudine,” Quasimodo said. “I mean now, and your future—do you always want to be like what other people think you are, a ‘bitch’?”

“To be fair, it seems to be as set in stone for them as the original Ten Commandments! Don’t want to make so many people look stupid by proving their stupid-ass biases dead wrong, wouldn’t I? That’d be mean!”

“This is your chance to turn to ‘Good,’ Claudine!” Quasimodo cries. Quietly, he adds, “Please, don’t waste it—you may not ever get another chance.”

Claudine scowls as her hands ball into fists and shake once more. “I have tried ‘Good’ before, alright? I spent the first ten years of my life, doing everything I could to be the most saintly person I could be on that hellhole on the Isle.

“And what did it get me?

“A father that stopped loving me the moment Mother Nature signed me up for a monthly subscription to Satan’s Waterfall. Getting humiliated, bullied, and shunned by pretty much everyone but the crazies in my father’s congregation. Did what every ‘Good Christian’ should and tried to turn someone to the light, and ended up almost getting burned alive for it.

“And I only got out of that fire because of all the exercise I had climbing up and back down those fucking bell towers, each and every single day, like a Good Little Christian Girl.”

“I am done, trying to be good, alright…?” Claudine said, raising a shaking finger at Quasimodo. “All the ‘good’ trying to be ‘good for goodness sake’ has brought me is a super-sized personal hell in a handbasket.”

“Auradon is different,” Quasimodo said. “Believe me: they’ll come around, you just have to try.”

“And what in the hell am I supposed do to try and change these people’s minds?!”

“You act good, and you try not to do evil, until they realize they were wrong.”

“So what, I’m just supposed not deck someone for talking smack about me right in front of my face, let them humiliate me like the Pharisees did JC, before they rile everyone up, put me through a phony trial, and convince the masses to nail me to a fucking cross?!”

Quasimodo nodded. “Yes. But without the crucifixion part.”

“This fucking sucks!” Claudine cries as she throws her hands up in the air. “I’m the victim here, they’re the ones at fault for letting the Isle exist in the first place—hell, they were probably the people that probably voted ‘Aye’ as soon as the question came up!

“How come I have to bust my ass trying to prove I’m not a hell-raising, home-wrecking, 2nd-Deadly-Sin-Tempting succubus when they’re the ones that made me who I was in the first place?!”

Quasimodo shrugged. “I’m sorry, Claudine, that’s just how the world works,” he says sadly. “But, if it worked for someone like me”--he gestured to his face--”it’ll work for you, right…?”

Claudine stared at him, before she dropped her hands, and a look of pure, absolute hopelessness coming over her face. “You know what? Fuck it,” she says, all the bite and the sarcasm gone from her voice—now, she just sounds tired. “Fuck it, fuck this whole ‘Villain Kid Rescue and Reformation’ Program, send my apologies to Big Ben, I’m fucking done.”

Quasimodo got up and walked over to her. “Claudine, you can’t just quit now--”

“And why shouldn’t I?!” Claudine cries, her voice choked, her eyes watering. “Why shouldn’t I quit when there isn’t a light at the end of this fucking tunnel, it’s just a giant ‘Maybe’?! What’s gonna happen if no one changes their mind, huh? What’s gonna happen to me, when I bust my ass and give everything I have trying to be ‘Good’ again, but it just turns out once more that my all just wasn’t good enough?!”

Tears started streaming down her cheeks. “What will I have, when I have nothing left to give, I have nowhere to turn to, and have no one but myself…?” she whispered.

Quasimodo smiled and opened his arms. “You’ll have me,” he said softly. “And Esmeralda. And Madellaine, and Phoebus, and Zephyr, and Ben, and all the other people here in Auradon who want you to stay, who will stand by your side, who believe—no, who know you’re not like your father, at all!

“Claudine… you’re not a monster… you’re a person, just like me.”

Claudine just stares at him, eyes blurred and red from crying, hiccuping and sniffling from the snot clogging her nose.

“Do you need a hug?” Quasimodo asked.

Claudine lunges for him and wraps her arms tight around him. As she buries her face into his shoulder, she shouts, “Don’t tell anyone about this, or you’re dead, you hear me? Dead!”

Quasimodo just smiles and hugs her right back.

“I won’t,” he says. “I promise.”

[torreygazette]

Loving Kindness, Radical Welcome

The Bible has come to us through a long string of God-ordained and unprecedented events. We do not have any copies of the original writing of any book of the Bible. What we do have is hundreds and hundreds of copies of the books, each with their own slight differences and variations due to the copying, translation, and alteration of the originally written text. That’s part of why we have dozens of English translations of the Bible because each committee who created those translations has a different philosophy on how to handle all of the Scriptures that we have, including how to translate and honor the different variations in the oldest copies of the text. The Scriptures have been copied, translated, preserved, and brought together over a long process of diligent work by faithful Christians and the intervention of the Lord. Oftentimes in Baptist life, we like to talk about the Scriptures as inspired, and usually, we refer to the writing of the text itself. We believe that the Holy Spirit guided the authors to write what we find in this book, whether He word-for-word dictated it or led thought-for-thought is up for disagreement, but we can all agree that God inspired the writing of the Bible. If God inspired the writing of the Bible, then I would propose that we also must believe that He inspired the collection, copies, translations, and canonization of the sixty-six books that make up our Bible as well. I don’t think we talk about that enough, the fact that God not only inspired authors to write these words but He also performed a miracle in history by preserving, distributing, copying, collecting, and giving us this Holy Book. There is quite literally nothing like it in history, no book has a tenth as much of the ancient copies as the Bible has.

I lead with this to say there are a couple of places in our New Testament where a portion of the text is not believed to be part of the original writing. John 7 is one such piece of Scripture. Many of your Bibles will have footnotes or brackets to let you know that this text is not present in the earliest manuscripts of John’s Gospel. That means that the oldest copies we have of John do not include the verses we are going to discuss. For some, this might disqualify this story or make it “less important” than the rest of the book. This might be the first time that you’ve heard that there are discrepancies in the Biblical text, and it might freak you out a little bit to know that there’s something in our English Bible that most scholars believe hasn’t always been there. But I want to assure you: if God inspired not only the writing of the Bible, but the preservation, collection, canonization, and translation of the Scriptures, I believe we have this story in our copy of John’s Gospel for a reason. I believe God, in His wisdom and power, has inspired this story and placed it before us because, like the rest of Scripture, it reveals who God is and who we are as humans. I believe that just because these verses may not have been part of John’s original writing, they are equally as valid and important for us as the rest of the book. Some pastors or theologians might disagree with me, but that’s where I stand on it. Let’s read, now, the verses as we find them in our text:

7:53 They went each to his own house, 8:1 but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. 2 Early in the morning he came again to the temple. All the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them. 3 The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst 4 they said to him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. 5 Now in the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” 6 This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. 7 And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” 8 And once more he bent down and wrote on the ground. 9 But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. 10 Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” 11 She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.”

I can’t imagine what it was like for this woman on that day. I can’t comprehend the horror of having a group of men storm into the darkroom during such a personal and intimate moment. I can’t begin to feel the shame she endured as the men dragged her naked body through the dirt streets and into the temple, the most reverent and sacred place in Israel’s world. I can’t fathom the thoughts that must’ve been going through her head—the sadness and the trauma and the fear that must’ve been swirling inside her. As the scribes and Pharisees toss her fragile and trembling body before Jesus, I can’t imagine her desperation to cover herself as best she could manage while curled into the fetal position, completely exposed and vulnerable. She is at the mercy of the men in the room. She has no voice of her own and no rights as she buries her head into the floor and weeps streams of tears onto the ground.

Reading this text, I am haunted by the human capacity for cruelty. I get angry with the men in this story for what they do to this woman. How dare they put their hands on her violently. How dare they expose her fear and her body like that. And if you’re a good reader, what you’ll notice is that they don’t bring the man she was sleeping with before Jesus as well. Even though their law says both the man and the woman should be stoned, they only brought the woman—they choose to prey on the one who is weaker and less able to defend herself. Or perhaps, more likely, their culture didn’t bat an eye at a man committing adultery but was quick to shame a promiscuous woman. Sound familiar?

As I observe this situation, feeling deep pain for the woman and deep anger for the scribes and Pharisees, I first must recognize that the human capacity for cruelty isn’t limited to folks in the Bible, villains in a Disney movie, Islamic terrorists overseas, or racist mass shooters in America. That same capacity for cruelness—for hatred, for animus, for violence, for evil—exists inside of me. I have the capability to harm people, to shame people, and to selfishly manipulate people for my own gain.

Our human nature is utterly fascinating. On one hand, all men and women are created in the image of Almighty God, and that makes each of us inherently beautiful, valuable, and good. Yet, on the other hand, all men and women are born with a bent towards sin, with an inclination to live selfishly and foolishly, and with an instinct to use others instead of serving neighbors. In his letters to the early Church, Paul refers to this dichotomy as a battle of God’s Spirit against the flesh. He reminds us that if we count on human nature to be good, we’re going to be disappointed. Because ultimately, you and I, if left unchecked, will choose ourselves over others.

I am haunted by the human capacity for cruelty. Have there been times in your life where you, like these men, have had no regard for someone else’s situation? Have you willingly walked into situations where you harmed someone only to benefit yourself? Have you judged other people for their sins to make yourself feel better about your own vices? Maybe some of you have been even crueler than that. Maybe some in here have physically harmed people, verbally abused people, or taken advantage of someone who could not defend themselves. I pray that, in the name of Jesus, all of us would denounce our flesh and repent from our evil ways. The capacity for cruelty portrayed in this story is horrifying, and it exists inside each one of us.

I’m reminded this morning that in our most vulnerable, shameful, terrifying, and helpless moments, the Son of God is on our side. I hate to jump to the end of the story already because we have other observations to make before we conclude, but as we read, Jesus is the one man in the room who doesn’t see the woman for her sin, shame, fear, or nakedness. He sees a precious daughter of God who’s been abused, traumatized, and belittled; and from the start of this story, He is on her side.

We’ve all been through moments where we felt completely alone, exposed, or ashamed, and we can rest assured that Jesus is with us in those moments. But I want to take this a step further. This woman, in this instance, has been assaulted by these men. Statistics tell me that one in five women in this country has been sexually assaulted. One in three women and one in four men have experienced some form of physical violence by an intimate partner. Because I want to talk real life and I don’t just want to share statistics, let me share with you that I’m one of those four men. I have been physically harmed by a girlfriend during a relationship. The church doesn’t talk nearly enough about these issues and this morning, I won’t linger there for the sake of being edgy, but I feel led by the Spirit of God to say that if you’ve ever been a victim of any form of assault, you are not an object, you are not a failure, you are innocent, and you are not alone.

Jesus Christ was and is on your side and does not hold it against you. He does not cast shame upon you, in fact, He holds you highly as a daughter or son of God. Not only is He with you, but there are others in this room who’ve been through similar attacks. You are safe and you are loved in this place. Part of why God ordained this story to be in our Scriptures is to clearly illustrate that the Lord is on the side of those who are abused, attacked, and harmed by assault. As a church, we, too, must be diligently and loudly against all forms of assault, and we must support and love those who are victims.

So although the men who bring her before Jesus are part of the religious elite, they are guilty in their own sin, though they fail to see it. They have given themselves over to the flesh, to their evil desires, to their capacity for cruelty, and they have no clue just how screwed up and flawed their priorities are. They believe if they follow the letter of the law, regardless of their methodology or heart, they’re doing well. So they throw this woman before Jesus, and they ask him a seemingly simple question, “Jesus, the law says we should stone her; what do you say?”

They don’t care what Jesus actually has to say. They’re trying to pit Him against Moses. But what they don’t realize is that Jesus has been teaching His disciples that all laws and commands and rules fall under one overarching God-given mandate: Love God with everything you have, and love others with a self-sacrificing love. The Pharisees and scribes might have the letter of the law memorized, but they are blinded to Jesus, the Giver of the Law. They might know right from wrong in a legal sense, but they are ignorant concerning the battle of the Spirit vs. the flesh. They don’t just have sin in their everyday lives, but they have committed atrocious sin against this woman under the pompous guise of religious duty, and they don’t recognize the Creator of the Universe who sits before them. The Lawgiver, Jesus, holds no hatred or malice towards the woman, but I imagine in this instance He was quite angry with the religious men who assaulted her and acted like she deserved to be naked on the cold floor. It only served to reveal how cold their hearts had become under the guise of religious piety.

Our religion can make us cold-hearted if we let it. If we view our faith as a set of rules, a list of commandments, a church attendance chart, or a staple of political beliefs, we can quickly become blinded and calloused by our pride and self-righteousness; before too long, we begin to treat others with cruelness instead of kindness. In what areas has our Christianity puffed us up in pride and led us to coldly ostracize those who are different than us? Have you used your faith to rationalize a negative judgment of others? If your faith doesn’t lead you towards viewing all people as loved by God, regardless of their background, beliefs, religion, skin tone, country of origin, sexuality, or political affiliation, you too are blinded to the Son of God. All people—all people—are loved by their Creator. You, then, if you proclaim to follow Christ, should treat all people as such.

Jesus doesn’t dignify the question asked of him with a response. Jesus stoops down next to the woman and begins to write or draw in the dust. The text doesn’t tell us what the Lord is etching on the ground, and I find it unhealthy to speculate or guess on the content of his tracing. The important thing to note is that Jesus doesn’t give the religious men an answer. I imagine Him looking at the ground, running his finger through the dirt, and refusing to acknowledge the cruel men or their backhanded query. He loves them just like He loves the woman, but He knows what they need in this moment is a check on their pride, not an extended hand of grace. So the Christ refuses to field their question, and surely that made the Pharisees and scribes all the angrier.

They press the issue. The text says they “continued to ask Him.” I don’t know how long this went on or how many times they repeated their question, but they pressed in around Jesus and the woman and angrily raised their voices. They pestered Him and refused to back down. They didn’t want a more righteous understanding of the law, they wanted blood. They wanted an excuse to pick up rocks and hurl them at this vulnerable woman. They continue in their cruelty, their savagery, and their malice. Jesus, patient and composed, scribbles in the dirt. The religious men continue to demand a response from Him.

Finally, Jesus rises to His feet. I wish I could’ve seen the look in His eyes. The men asked Him a law question; Jesus turns it into a sin question. He says, “If you haven’t sinned, also, go ahead and stone her.” What’s ironic about this is that, according to Jesus, the only one in the room who has permission to throw a stone is Himself, the Christ who is, indeed, without sin. Notice that Jesus doesn’t justify the woman’s sin. He simply asks the religious men to be honest about their own sin, their own fleshly desires and pride. He asks them to recognize that the gap between this sexually deviant woman and themselves is slim, in fact, it’s non-existent. Both the woman and the men who’ve brought her here are guilty. According to the law, they all deserve death. And so the men, somewhat astonishingly, recognize the Truth in the words of the Teacher and they all walk away and leave the woman with Jesus.

We, too, all deserve to be separated from God in physical and spiritual death. You know all too well the capacity for evil that exists inside of you, and the times you’ve acted upon that sinful nature. I know I do. I don’t stand before you today as one who is “better” or “more righteous” than you, I stand here as a man equally guilty, equally embarrassed by my sinfulness, and equally capable of evil. We, then, like the Pharisees and scribes, cannot cast stones at others. We cannot throw judgment or hatred towards those with whom we disagree, or those who are living in sin. The truth is, we all exist on the same playing field; we are all unworthy of a relationship with the Creator, and we all deserve to bear the consequences and the shame of our own sinfulness.

But watch what Jesus does for this woman. Yes, this woman has sinned, but she’s also gone through hell today. Yes, she is guilty, but she has been unfairly mistreated for her failures. So Jesus looks at her in the way that a good Father looks at his daughter; He sees her mistakes, and He forgives her. He sees the damage that others have done to her, and He offers healing and safety. He sees a precious human being created in the image of God, and He offers unconditional love. “Woman, has no one condemned you?” She looks around, astonished that her assailants have left, and replies with tearful joy, “No one, Lord.” Notice that Jesus is the only person who actually speaks to this woman, and allows her to speak back, and in doing so he gives her back her dignity and her voice—something the religious men refused to do. “Neither do I. Go, and sin no more.” 

In this moment, a woman who has made mistakes has been forgiven and forever changed. A woman who was a pawn in an argument has been given her dignity and voice. A woman who has been assaulted, abused, and used has been seen, loved, and welcomed into a family. For the first time in her life she is set free, she is given a purpose, she is told that she has inherent value. And the angels in heaven are throwing a party because a sheep who was astray has been found and brought back into the flock of the Good Shepherd, Jesus.

We, too, the people of God, have been saved and redeemed by Jesus Christ. We, too, stand free from condemnation, though according to “the law” we deserve to die. The questions before us as we go forward are simple but challenging: will we throw sinners before God in judgment, or will we extend a hand of grace? Will we take advantage of those in our world who are vulnerable, or will we offer them refuge? Will we give in to our capacity to be cruel, or will we allow God to shape us into people who are gentle, kind, and loving? Will we go and live in sin no more, or will we allow religious pride to blanket our sinfulness? Will we welcome outsiders into our family, or in our callous put up walls between “us” and “them”? Which will we choose to value more: laws, or people—rules, or stories?

May the loving kindness, radical welcome, and boundless grace of Jesus extend to us all and out from us all. Amen.

Photo by Drew Mills

[revkidd]

The Judas Walk

Wednesday of Holy Week is the day in the church calendar when we tell the story of Judas (sometimes called “Spy Wednesday.”) In John’s Gospel we hear Jesus’ interaction with Judas - when he notifies him that the jig is up, Jesus knows what he is about to do.

But this year the words hit me differently.  

John refers to him as Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot. I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Simon. His name is forever remembered (kinda) but only in connection to a betrayal. It is a sad, strange betrayal too. Judas is either an ignorant patsy or a greedy pawn, but we can’t really tell which. Lots of ink has been spilled over the years wondering if perhaps Judas misunderstood what Jesus was trying to do. Perhaps he thought Jesus wanted a showdown with the Pharisees, maybe he thought this was just part of the plan? Of course, he also could have just wanted to score some easy cash. It isn’t like the Pharisees really needed him to point out Jesus, he just rode into town in a parade!

Nevertheless Judas, and Simon along with him, are forever trapped on the wrong side of history. They are, at the very least, complicit with the oppressor, the evil doer, the empire.  In Matthew’s Gospel Judas even comes to his senses, tries to give the money back. (Matthew 27:3-10) He wants to reclaim his place on the side of the angels!  But he is told it is too late.  His bed has been made, his lot has been cast.  

He is, whether he likes it or not, a villain.  This is who he will always be.

This of course is the lie that Holy week itself exposes.

We are all Judas and Simon. We have all made the choice, at one time or another, to take the easy way out. We have all chosen the cash or the comfort over the deep need of the world. We have all been selfish, greedy and prideful. We have all desired to walk our own way instead of the way of peace, life and wisdom. Sometimes, like Simon, we find that we have been unwittingly co-opted into a system that exploits the weak, shames the abused and rewards the evil doer.  We are not quite sure how we got here. But we know, like it or not, that we are complicit. We are simultaneously both victims and perpetrators of the problem. We are trapped by our sin, and the sin of our kin.

This is why we go through the trouble, year after year, to tell the story of Holy Week. The way out is always through. We walk like Judas into that Holy Meal on Thursday, we find ourselves convicted and laid bare to the truth of our lives on Friday: that we are simultaneously both a sinner and beloved beyond measure. The darkness is deep, it is scary and it is real. But so it the light. The light of God’s redeeming work pierces the darkness on Saturday and darkness is powerless to resist it.  We no longer hide our sin or shame but rather come to know ourselves as unconditionally forgiven, and therefore free. 

The Judas walk becomes a Jesus run - right back into the loving arms of our creator, who simply refuses to give up on us, no matter what.

I wish you a blessed journey through Holy Week. I hope you hear what you need to be healed, and find what you need to be free.