5th Sunday of Lent - Year C

I think that for many of us, the first thing that came to mind when hearing today’s Gospel was Pope Francis’ homily at the Granaries in Floriana, when he was among us three years ago. How much we need to remember the powerful message he gave us. So I will again use his words to delve deeper into the powerful message contained in today’s Gospel.

“Jesus ‘early in the morning came again to the temple, and all the people came to him’ (Jn 8:2). That’s how the episode of the woman caught in adultery begins... The main character here is the People of God, who gather in the temple courtyard around Jesus, the Master. They wanted to hear Him, because what He said enlightened and warmed the heart. His teaching touched lives, set them free, transformed them, renewed them. Look at the ‘instinct’ of God’s people: they aren’t content with a temple built of stone, but gather instead around the person of Jesus.

But in Jesus’ school, there were empty seats. There were absentees: the woman and her accusers. These did not come to the Master like the others, and there were different reasons for their absence. The scribes and Pharisees thought they already knew everything—they believed they had no need for Jesus’ teaching. The woman, on the other hand, was lost; she had strayed, searching for happiness in the wrong paths. Let us pause and reflect on these absentees.

First, the woman’s accusers. In them, we see the image of those who boast of being righteous, of observing God’s law—people who think they have everything in order and want to be seen as good. They don’t see their own faults, but are very quick to expose the faults of others. So they come to Jesus—not with open hearts to listen to Him, but “to test Him, that they might have something to accuse Him of.” Their intention reveals what lies in the hearts of these religious and cultured men. They knew Scripture, they frequented the Temple, yet they twisted everything for their own interests and didn’t confront the evil thoughts brewing in their hearts. To the people, they appeared as God’s experts—but they were the very ones who failed to recognize Jesus, even seeing Him as an enemy to eliminate. To do this, they brought a person before Him, treating her like an object, contemptuously calling her “this woman,” and publicly accusing her of adultery. They insisted she be stoned and tried to use Jesus’ mercy against Him—all while hiding behind their reputation as religious men.

Brothers and sisters, these characters show us that even in our religiosity there can be the rot of hypocrisy and the vice of finger-pointing. There is always the danger that we misunderstand Jesus—that His name is on our lips but our actions deny Him. And we can even do this while holding up banners with the cross on them. So how do we verify if we are truly disciples in the Master’s school? By our gaze—how we look at our neighbour and how we look at ourselves.

How do we look at our neighbour? Do we see them with the merciful gaze of Jesus, or do we look with judgment, sometimes even with scorn, like the accusers in the Gospel who wanted to appear as defenders of God but were in fact humiliating their brothers and sisters? In truth, those who believe they are defending the faith by pointing fingers at others may hold a religious view, but are not filled with the spirit of the Gospel—for they are forgetting mercy, which is the heart of God.

To know whether we are truly disciples of the Master, we also need to examine how we look at ourselves. The woman’s accusers were convinced they had nothing left to learn. Outwardly, they looked perfect—but they lacked inner truth. They are the image of believers who, in every age, turn faith into a facade, where solemn outward forms dominate but inner poverty is absent. Yet for Jesus, what matters is the open availability of someone who does not think they have arrived, but knows they are in need of salvation. That is why it is good that when we are gathered in prayer—even during beautiful religious functions—we ask ourselves: Are we truly in tune with the Lord? We can even ask Him directly: “Jesus, I am here with You—what do You want from me? What do You want to change in my heart, in my life? How do You want me to look at others?” It is good to pray this way, because the Master is not satisfied with appearances—He seeks the truth of the heart. And when we open our hearts to Him in truth, He can work wonders in us.

We see this in the woman caught in adultery. Her situation seemed hopeless, but before her eyes, a new horizon opened—one she never imagined. Shamed and ready to hear merciless words and harsh punishment, she is amazed to hear God forgive her and open an unexpected future: “Has no one condemned you?” Jesus asks her. “Then neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on, sin no more.”

What a contrast between the Master and those who accused her! They had quoted Scripture to condemn; Jesus—the Word of God Himself—restores her completely and returns her hope. From this story, we learn that any comment, if not inspired by love and lacking in love, only crushes the one who receives it. But God always leaves an open door and always finds paths to freedom and salvation.

The woman’s life is transformed by forgiveness. We might even imagine that, having been forgiven by Jesus, she learned to forgive others too. Perhaps she no longer saw her accusers as rigid and cruel people, but as those who, ironically, made it possible for her to encounter Jesus. The Lord wants us too—His disciples, His Church—who have been forgiven by Him, to become tireless witnesses of reconciliation: of a God for whom the word “irredeemable” does not exist; of a God who always forgives—it is we who grow tired of asking. A God who continues to believe in us and always gives us the chance to begin again. There is no sin or failure that, when He takes it upon Himself, cannot become an opportunity for us to start a new, different life in the name of mercy.

This is the Lord Jesus. He is truly known only by those who experience His forgiveness. Those who, like the woman in the Gospel, discover that God visits us through our deepest wounds. It is there that the Lord loves to reveal Himself—because He came not for the healthy, but for the sick (cf. Mt 9:12). And today, it is this woman, who in her misery met mercy, and who returns to the world healed by the forgiveness of Jesus, who invites us as a Church to start again in the school of the Gospel—in the school of the God of hope who never ceases to surprise us.

If we are like Him, we will not be tempted to focus on condemning sins, but rather moved by love to seek out sinners. We won’t count how many are present, but we’ll go searching for those who are absent. We won’t point fingers, but begin to listen. We won’t discard the rejected, but give first place to those who are considered last. This is what Jesus teaches us today through His example. Let us allow ourselves to be amazed. Let us joyfully receive His Good News.