Loading today's devotional...
No devotional available for this date.
The God Who Writes in the Dust
Where We Are
We begin the fifth week of Lent on this Monday, still carrying the weight of yesterday's extraordinary Gospel, where Jesus called Lazarus from the grave. Now the evangelist John takes us to the Temple courts, where the scribes and Pharisees drag a woman before Jesus, hoping to trap him. The first reading from the Book of Daniel tells the story of Susanna, another woman falsely accused. Both readings this week place mercy and justice side by side.
The Word
In the Book of Daniel, Susanna is a virtuous woman falsely accused of adultery by two corrupt elders who tried to coerce her. Facing death, she cries out to God, and the young prophet Daniel intervenes, cross-examining the elders separately. Their stories contradict each other, and Susanna is vindicated. In the Gospel, the Scribes and Pharisees bring a woman caught in adultery to Jesus, demanding he pronounce the sentence required by the Law of Moses. Jesus bends down and writes in the dust. Then he says, "Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to cast a stone." One by one, they walk away. Jesus looks at the woman: "Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin any more."
Continue Reading
Sign in to read the full devotional and receive it in your inbox each morning - a quiet moment of reflection to start your day.
By signing in, you agree to our Privacy Policy and Terms of Service.
Reflect
This story of the woman caught in adultery is among the most psychologically rich in the Gospels. The Scribes bring her "caught in the very act," which raises an obvious question the text never answers: where is the man? The law they cite requires both parties to be punished. Their selective enforcement reveals that justice is not their goal. Trapping Jesus is.
What Jesus writes on the ground remains one of Scripture's great mysteries. Some traditions suggest he wrote the sins of the accusers. Others believe he was simply creating space, a pause in the mob's momentum that allowed conscience to speak. Whatever it was, the effect is devastating: one by one, starting with the eldest, they walk away. Age brings self-knowledge, and the older men recognized themselves first.
"Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more." These two sentences must never be separated. The first without the second is permissiveness; the second without the first is legalism. Together, they form the complete Gospel: mercy that liberates and truth that transforms. Jesus does not ignore the sin or minimize the damage it causes. He forgives it and calls the woman to a life that no longer needs forgiveness for the same wound. The mercy of Christ is not tolerance of evil but the power to move beyond it.
Living It
What stones are you holding today, not just against others but against yourself? We carry internal accusations that can be harder to release than external ones, replaying old failures, rehearsing shame, refusing to believe that forgiveness could actually reach the thing we did. Jesus invites you to let each stone fall, beginning with the heaviest one. And if you feel surrounded by accusers, whether real voices or the ones in your own head, listen for the one voice that does not condemn but calls you forward. What would it mean to receive mercy today, not as permission to remain unchanged but as the power to become someone new?
Prayer
Merciful Lord, you knelt in the dust rather than condemn. You saw the woman's sin and her dignity in the same glance. Today, help us set down the stones we carry, the judgments, the grudges, the self-condemnation. Write your mercy on our hearts as you wrote in the dust that day. Give us the grace to go forward and sin no more, trusting in your love. Amen.
Today's reflection draws from Daniel 13:1-9, 15-17, 19-30, 33-62 and John 8:1-11 (CPDV), per the Ordo Lectionum Missae.
Signed in as ·
