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One of the terms we’ve all heard over the last decade or two, perhaps to the point of exhaustion, is so-called cancel culture. Wikipedia defines it as "a contemporary phrase used to refer to a form of ostracism in which someone is thrust out of social or professional circles.” We've seen cancel culture employed in every area of life, targeting individuals and companies in response to words, opinions, or actions deemed offensive. Most often, the cancel movement happens online and becomes a virtual mob mentality, with people quickly jumping on the bandwagon to condemn—often without all the facts or even knowing the individuals involved. Today, cancel culture plays out in politics, entertainment, business, education, healthcare, and even within the Church.
Though cancel culture feels ever-present due to global communication, social media, and a 24-hour news cycle, it’s not new. In today's Gospel, we witness a brutal version: “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” The trap is set. If Jesus defends her, He’ll be accused of being soft on infidelity and dismissive of the Law. If he condemns her, they will ask why he so often eats with tax collectors and sinners. What does Jesus do? First, He writes something on the ground. Maybe it was the sins of the accusers, or perhaps a word of hope to the woman—“You are worth saving,” or “The Lord is kind and merciful.” Whatever He wrote, it stung their consciences. Perhaps He also highlighted their hypocrisy: where was the man? Both were supposed to be punished.
Jesus then responds with the perfect line: “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” One by one, they leave; convicted by their pride, exposed in their hypocrisy. They may fool others, but not the Son of God. Jesus remains alone with the woman. He, who will die for her sins, has every right to condemn her. But He chooses mercy. St. Augustine beautifully said, “There remained only two: divine mercy and human misery.” Pope Francis reflected on this passage in a letter during the Year of Mercy: “Once clothed in mercy... love makes it possible for her to live her life differently.” When we encounter Jesus’ mercy, we can move forward, not in shame, but with a new beginning—not annihilation, but redemption.
It’s important to clarify what Jesus’ actions do and don’t mean. Some interpret this story to suggest we should tolerate sin or never speak of it. But that’s not what Jesus does. He neither excuses the sin nor trivializes it. He doesn’t say, “It’s not a big deal.” He tells her, “Go and sin no more”—not to condemn her, but because He loves her and wants her soul saved. The same is true for us. If we see someone caught in sin, we shouldn't condemn them—but we should lovingly help them see it and turn toward God’s forgiveness.
Today’s Gospel could also be called the Story of the People Holding Stones. The scribes and Pharisees believed they had righteous anger. They had the Law on their side. They had everything—except love. They had everyone agreeing with them—except the Lord. Like the elder brother in last week’s parable, their anger and self righteousness excluded them from the Father’s banquet. It wasn’t justice driving them; it was hatred for Jesus and His mercy. Bitterness blinded them. In the end, only the sinful woman calls Jesus “Lord.” The religious leaders walk away instead of accepting His teaching and receiving his grace.
Like them, we often let anger, resentment, and bitterness pull us away from the Lord. We justify our grudges. We cling to outrage, calling for the cancellation of those who’ve hurt us or our loved ones. But unless we drop the stones we carry, we cannot stand in the presence of our loving God. The scribes refused to let go. What about us? Is our hatred more important than remaining in Divine Love? Will we accept God’s grace or cling tighter to resentment?
Sometimes, we are the woman: caught in our sins, full of shame, overwhelmed by guilt, unable to lift our eyes. But as we stare at the ground, we must notice Jesus writing in the dirt: “You are worth saving,” “The Lord is kind and merciful.” His mercy lifts us up. And His words to us remain: “Go, and sin no more.”
Today we see that cancel culture has always existed in some form. But Jesus offers a different way; not erasing someone at their worst, but calling them to something greater. Cancel culture dehumanizes by forgetting the whole person. But we are more than our worst moment. Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. That’s why Jesus never gives up on us. God never cancels anyone! He works until the last moment to bring us home. As his followers we must follow his example by never giving up on others or join the mob who seeks to annihilate others who have sinned.
As we approach Holy Week, let us walk with the woman Jesus saved. Tradition tells us she was one of the few who remained at the foot of the Cross on Good Friday. Rescued from sin, she never wanted to be separated from Him again. With her, we can pray the words of today’s Psalm: “The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy.”