“Collateral Damage”

Fifth Sunday in Lent

March 22, 2026

Deuteronomy 15:1-2, 7-11

John 8:2-11

Children’s Message:

Have you heard the saying, ‘sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?’ Do you believe it? Me neither. Today, we heard about stones and words. Religious leaders had brought a woman to the Temple. They wanted to trap Jesus in his words, so they claimed she was caught doing something that the Bible said was punishable by death. Death by stoning—which meant throwing large stones at her until she died.

All this just to catch Jesus responding to them in a way that could get him arrested, too. So, they asked what he thought about stoning her to death.

Have you ever responded to someone and then immediately wished you hadn’t said anything? Like, you said something mean, or you said something you wish you hadn’t? Me too. And every time, I wish I had just taken a moment to think first. That’s what Jesus did. He stopped, bent down, and began playing in the sand—drawing or writing something.

I have some sand here. What do you think Jesus was writing? Maybe a word—like grace? Or forgiveness? Maybe he was drawing a line in the sand. But he waited and thought about his response, and then he said, “Anyone who has never done anything wrong can be the first one to throw a stone at her.” Who do you think threw the first stone? The main religious leader? Nope. No one. Because, even if they had been perfect before, their attempt to use this event to trick Jesus and hurt the woman. So, instead, thy all left.

And when it was just the woman and Jesus, he told her that he didn’t condemn her, either. He let her go free.

Let’s pray. Dear God, thank you for forgiving us and setting us free. Remind us that our words can hurt as much as stones Amen.

Message:

Today’s gospel passage meets us with particular significance in these days filled with news and lack of news about the Epstein files and other egregious acts of sexual assault among the powerful and wealthy in our world. Whether it is the recent accusations against labor rights leader Cesar Chavez, allegations against Harvey Weinstein and Bill Cosby, the thousands of times Donald Trump’s name appears among damning records—or especially the many experiences nearly every woman and many men have had when vulnerable—the story we hear today hits home.

It begins with Jesus in the Temple, teaching. Suddenly, a group of religious leaders drag a woman into the center of the crowd and say she was caught in the act of adultery. I know my immediate question is: with whom? Where’s the other person? Where’s the man? Because this scene gets played out time and time again. Blame the woman because of the clothes she wears. Blame her for walking at night. Blame her for wearing too much makeup. Blame her for her body type and the size of her chest. But boys will be boys.

The other question I wonder is how did these religious leaders ‘catch’ the act? Who tipped them off? Was she set up? Was the man in on it? Was it even consensual? In the account, in those days, even today—it doesn’t matter. She’s just a prop. Her life isn’t her own. They’re using her to trap Jesus. She’s just collateral damage.

Like hundreds of schoolgirls in Iran. Like trans women who just want to use the restroom safely. Like any number of vulnerable people who are pawns in political and religious war games played by those who have too much power and not enough humanity. But Jesus sees this woman. He sees her as a child of God. He sees her as a victim of political entrapment. He sees her as a human being, equal to his accusers. Which is why, instead of interrogating her on the circumstances of her arrest, he turns to the religious leaders.

“The sinless one among you can go first. Go ahead. Throw the stone. But make sure your name and your sins are written on it first.” Don’t cast an anonymous vote like a coward. Don’t let your stone be mixed among the others. If you’re going to do this, claim it.

And, like all bullies, cowardice lies at the heart of these religious leaders. Slowly, they release their stones and walk away, caught in their own trap.

All the while, the woman is crouched down, bracing herself against the onslaught. As the tension abates and the noise quiets, Jesus bends to meet her at eye level and raises her up. When he asks if anyone still stands to accuse her, she looks around. In surprise she answers, “No one.” Jesus says, “I don’t condemn you, either.” Because he knows. He knows that it wasn’t her sin that brought her to this point. He proclaims her ‘not guilty.’

Which makes me wonder, then: why does he tell her to go and ‘sin no more?’ Perhaps because, when powerful people are publicly shamed, they don’t just recede into history. They come back with a vengeance. And this action—much like when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, and when he healed the man born blind—this action puts a target on her back. To ‘go and sin no more’ is more about not giving them any opportunity to use her actions against her. Be above reproach. Go, and be absolutely squeaky clean. Don’t be lured in by anyone. Stay safe. Stay hidden. Stay alive.

So, in reality, even though she was given a stay of execution; even though Jesus proclaimed her ‘not guilty’; even though she is free, she isn’t. Not really. She will always be looking behind her, worried about what they might do next. We’re seeing this scenario play out daily. And it feels as if there is no good news. Even for this woman.

But there is good news. The good news is rooted in justice, mercy, and faithfulness. The good news is that God does not see us or use us as collateral damage. When those in power say that some loss is necessary for the greater good, they are lying. When they apply their thinking to God, they are taking God’s name in vain. You are—and always have been—beloved. You are worthy of grace. You are not an object lesson or a cautionary tale. You are not a prop in someone else’s story.

You, dear beloved child of God, are precious—simply because you exist. Simply because God said so from the very beginning. For all that you have done, you are forgiven. For all that you have endured, you are released. For all the ways in which you, yourself, have used and harmed others, you are given new life. Go and sin no more. Not out of fear but out of hope. Not out of protection but out of love. Go, in God’s mercy, dropping your stones and being raised to live in love and service.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE