John 8:31-59 Truth and Freedom

Sometimes it seems like some people just want to be argumentative, that some people interpret words in a way that intentionally fails to grasp their meaning. Maybe some people are just set in their ways, or maybe some people are just a little more dense than I'd hoped. We get a sense of the frustration we all probably feel when someone seems to intentionally misunderstand us toward the end of John 8. It is as if the crowd has never heard of metaphor. Of course, the whole conversation may be contrived by the authors of John to demonstrate a particular point. Remember, the book was written at least 60 years after this conversation would have taken place, if it even took place outside of the authors' minds. So, let's assume that the back-and-forth arguing here is didactic and not a debate between two equally strong perspectives.

What does that leave us with? First of all, it leaves us with some terminology that may need a bit of interpretation. Sin, for instance, is not a terribly useful word, especially since it has been so connected to shame. Shame doesn't create anything worthwhile. Personally, when I see the word sin, I interpret it as fear or reactions prompted by fear.

Likewise, I have previously interpreted God and its synonyms as a deepest, most noble self -- a natural part of what it means to be human rather than an external supernatural. Your deepest, most noble self is the seat of your values and guiding principles, and the fountainhead of your vision of a best possible version of yourself. Scandalous though this still is to some people, I began this entire endeavor locating the idea of divinity within people, so this is just an extension of that basic principle.

With these interpretations in place, then, we see a few ideas put forth. Truth leads to freedom. Everyone is potentially enslaved by their fear and reactivity. Following the example of Jesus (as he is depicted in John) places truth over fear. At the same time, fear is habitual, and the habit of personal fear is reinforced by societal fear.

Sometimes we reject the truth because we don't like it -- which is to say that we are afraid of its implications. We are afraid of the consequences of accepting the truth. We are afraid of the changes we may have to make or the work we may have to do if we are honest. In other words, we are sometimes afraid of being uncomfortable and unsettled. The reason we have these fears is that we are not connected to our deepest values and guiding principles. We are operating on autopilot instead of living intentionally.

Now, the authors of John have the crowd respond with an unrelated ad hominem attack, the clumsy tactics of an amateur debater. "Isn't it true that you're a crazy immigrant!?" We still hear such "clever" attacks by people who don't want to engage with challenging ideas. As human beings, it's often very important to us that we are right. We have a lot riding on being right, especially about how we live our lives. It's easier to undermine the character of someone with challenging ideas than it is to honestly engage in those ideas. The response of the Jesus character to the attack is clear and direct: "You're insulting me, but you're not hearing me." If we're assuming that the Jesus character is in the story as an exemplar, we might do well to envision him as remaining calm in the midst of the desperate accusations. We can see this response as an example of emotional maturity.

Time and again, the crowd refuses to consider the possible truth of what they hear. They interpret literally what could be taken as metaphor. They actively refuse to listen or consider the merit of a message they don't expect. Eventually, the crowd in the story responds with violence, a reaction even less mature than name-calling. They are so desperate to cling to their perspective, so unwilling to consider the possibility that they have some learning and growing to do, that they lash out at the messenger of truth.

We are sometimes the crowd. We are sometimes so set in our perspective that we are hostile toward anything that doesn't seem to agree with our view of the world. Even when we could easily find common ground, we listen to our fear instead and choose some pretty clumsy and desperate tactics to defend and preserve our way of thinking. When we do this, we are being willfully dishonest. We make ourselves liars. Our fear does not lead us to behave according to our deepest values. Our fear suggests that those values can't have priority when there is a more serious threat -- a clear and present danger. The problem is that truth is not a legitimate threat. Truth is what sets us free from our fear.

This is not to say that every idea is worthy of merit, or even that our perspectives are completely wrong or misguided. When we consider another perspective calmly and honestly weigh it against our own perspective, we might walk away from that engagement with unaltered views. We don't have to attack people's character or get violent. Truth will win out. If we are afraid of the truth, especially if we are afraid of the truth to the point that we are considering doing something harmful to another human being, we need to examine that. If we are already being honest, then we don't have to worry about it. We can express our views honestly and calmly without needing anyone to agree with us, and we can listen deeply to the views of others without feeling offended that someone believes something different from us.

Fear is powerful, though. And it's understandable that we are scared of truth that prompts us to grow or change from what has become comfortable. It takes personal discipline to value honesty over fear, and we may need to practice that for awhile before it becomes our habit. Here is what this passage suggests as a possible way to get better at valuing honesty over fear:

Be clear about your guiding principles -- the values that you most want to govern your life -- and live with integrity to those principles. A wise person would consider love first and foremost among those values. If you do this, you'll be able to live more honestly, and truth will free you from fear.

Everyone who experiences fear or anxiety knows that it can take control if you aren't careful. You become a slave to your fear when your fear governs your decisions. There's no way to live out your values with integrity when you're controlled by fear. At least, not with any consistency. If you are free from your fear because you know your deep values -- because you know what you want to stand for in your life -- then you'll have power over your fear. You'll have an actual skill that you can use to live into a best possible version of yourself.

This isn't easy. We want to see ourselves as good people who aren't governed by fear. Yet, we often don't want to hear the truth. We are often afraid of challenges to our way of seeing things. We know our values and we have a sense of the kind of people we want to be, but we don't always live up to that vision of ourselves. That's something we often don't want to admit. We are of two minds. We want to live by our values, and we are afraid of all manner of things.

If we had strong connection with our deepest, most noble selves, we would embrace the truth with love and calmness. The truth resonates with our deepest, most noble selves. We know deep down inside that we are capable of adapting and changing as we learn more. If we are honest about things, we would have to admit that letting our fear control us is a choice that we make. It seems easier perhaps, or it seems necessary in order to preserve our sense of comfort. Yet, so much of our fear is based on lies. We wind up believing things that aren't true about ourselves and other people. How can we embrace truth if we are defending the lies that prop up our fear?

It may sound crazy, but we have to let go of the death grip that we have on our perspective if we want to live into our values. Our values have to be sharpened by truth, not by lies. Our deepest values lead us toward contributing to the greatest good for the greatest number of people. Fear can't do that. Lies can't do that. We have the opportunity to experience life fully, and to have a lasting influence on the world. If we want to do that -- if we want to really live -- we have to focus on truth more than we do on fear. The path to living fully is to trust the vision we have of a best possible version of ourselves, and to continually temper that vision with honesty.


A Little Experiment: Ad hominem. Notice this week when someone (maybe even you) attacks a person's character rather than addressing their message. What about the message makes it seem unsafe? Is there some truth in the message that is avoided by attacking the messenger?

Another Little Experiment: Honesty. We are in the habit of telling "little white lies" all the time. Whether we realize it or not, this is an attempt to protect ourselves from what we think will be painful consequences of telling the truth. When you are tempted to be dishonest this week, challenge yourself to be honest. You can still be tactful and sensitive to other people. Just don't lie. Are the consequences as bad as you thought they would be?

One More Little Experiment: Sharpening. By now, you've had a lot of encouragement to clarify your guiding principles and values. Go over them carefully this week. Are any of those values or principles based on a subtle fear about yourself or other people? Is there a way that you can reframe or reword those principles so that they don't reinforce those fears?

(This is one reason that living into a best possible version of ourselves is a journey: We constantly have opportunities to refine what we are doing and who we are being.)

John 8:12-30 Being Light

After the story of the woman caught in adultery, the gospel of John narrative continues in chapter 8 with more arguments between Jesus and the Jews. The Pharisees and Jews in these sorts of passages in John almost serve as a sort of literary device. Their words offer nothing new, but they break up Jesus' words and prompt what he says next. Their interjections perhaps help with the flow of the passage, but the actual meat here is what the authors attribute to Jesus.

Recall that our basic framework for John is that the Jesus character is an example of the kind of people we can be. So, the words attributed to Jesus in John 8 are intriguing. He claims to be light for the world, to have valid testimony because he knows who he is, to be non-judgmental, and to live by a different standard that the world's standards. He also makes claims about the Father. Let's take that concept first, because the others will flow more easily from clarifying what that may mean.

Sure, when the gospel of John was written, it was in a Jewish context, which assumes the existence of an almighty supernatural. Lots of people still believe in such a god, but there are certainly other valid lenses through which one might look at the world and oneself. I would suggest that when people refer to "God," they are referring to a deep part of themselves. This may be one reason God always seems to agree with the perspective of whoever is speaking. Many people have written convincing enough arguments against the existence of God, but the idea may still be a useful metaphor for some individuals, especially those who haven't done much work to connect with a deeper part of themselves. From a Humanist perspective, we don't need to toss out the concept completely. We can interpret "Father" here as shorthand for a deepest, most noble self -- a part of ourselves that is a source for our values and guiding principles, a source for our vision of a best possible version of ourselves. 

I say a "deeper" part of ourselves not in terms of a physical location, but in terms of psyche I suppose. Most of the time, we operate out of very surface level reactions to the world around us. We don't always give a lot of thought to how our moment to moment decisions align with our guiding principles. Many of our moment to moment decisions may not even seem to have anything to do with our values or with being a best possible version of ourselves. It takes effort to think through our guiding principles and consider how best to apply them in a particular situation. Most of our thinking is pretty lazy. So, I use "deeper" part of ourselves to indicate a more intentionally thought through identity than our lazy, automatic kinds of decisions.

The Jesus character in John 8 says that he is in agreement with the Father, which we can interpret to mean that his identity is well aligned with his deepest, most noble self. He is claiming that he lives into a best possible version of himself -- that his actions and decisions are impeccably congruent with his guiding principles. This is why we might look to the narrative as a framework for how we can be as human beings. The idealized character of Jesus reflects our potential to live with the same level of integrity, the same degree of alignment to our guiding principles. 

Should we take on that potential and live more intentionally, the claims attributed to Jesus here are a part of the outcome of having greater alignment to our own values. We become light for the world, shining an example of a different way of living than people who are stuck on autopilot and never even consider a best possible version of themselves. Our testimony is consistently valid, because we learn to express what is so for us without demanding that other people agree with us. We know better where we come from and where we are going. In other words, we have an awareness of our own habits and tendencies, and we have a clear vision of who we want to be in the world. 

Perhaps most importantly, we don't need to judge anyone, because our identities are valid in and of themselves. Most of the time, judgment of other people is a reflection that we don't agree with them. They are doing things we don't approve of, and our judgment is a way of lifting up the merits of our own perspective by tearing down someone else's perspective. This is irrelevant when we live with integrity to our own guiding principles. Other people doing things differently than we would is not a threat to the value of our own vision of a best possible version of ourselves. 

Should we choose to judge someone, though, that judgment would look different. The foundation is that we live with congruence to our deepest values and we refuse to be threatened by other people's ideas and behaviors just because they're different from our own. From that space, we might still look at other people's life and recognize that they are acting on autopilot, that they are caught up in the throes of anxiety, or that they don't have a clear sense of their own guiding principles. In a way, this is a judgment against them. Some might call it awareness or even discernment. Maybe it's really just observation. 

When we use this judgment to be of service to others, it looks different from using judgment to bolster our own identities at the expense of someone else's. We might actually help people clarify their values. We could gently knock people out of autopilot mode. We can even help other people to develop a vision of a best possible version of themselves. From one perspective, we'd be using the same processes that we use to judge other people, but now we would approach that process with a clear sense of our own identity, and perhaps with a heavier dose of love and empathy thrown into the mix.

Here we go, then, with a possible interpretation of John 8:12-30.

Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “The way I live shines as an obvious example to everybody. Whoever follows my example will never have to worry about fear or confusion, but will have the ability to live with clarity and integrity.” Then the Pharisees said to him, “You are testifying on your own behalf; your testimony is not valid.” Jesus answered, “Even if I testify on my own behalf, my testimony is valid because I am telling you what is so for me. I know my habits and tendencies, and I have a compelling vision for my life, but you do not know my history or my future. You barely have a sense of your own habits or a vision for yourself. You judge other people in order to validate yourself; I judge no one. Yet even if I do judge, my judgment is valid; for I don't need to judge others to build myself up. I operate from a guiding principle of love that stems from my deepest, most noble self.

Then they said to him, “Where is this deepest self?” Jesus answered, “You haven't really seen my actions or heard my words clearly because you look through a lens of fear. If you let down your guard and take an honest look at my life, you would know my deepest, most noble self.” He spoke these words while he was teaching in the treasury of the temple, but no one arrested him, because his hour had not yet come.

Again he said to them, “I'm not always going to be here, and you will search for me, but your fear will persist for the rest of your lives. You can't take the journey I'm taking.” Then the Jews said, “Is he going to kill himself? Is that what he means by saying, ‘You can't take the journey I'm taking’?” He said to them, “You are operating out of habit and anxiety, I am operating out of my guiding principles and a vision of a best possible version of myself. I told you that your fear will persist for the rest of your lives, for you will live the rest of your days with the same fearfulness unless you take responsibility for doing something differently in your life.” 

They said to him, “Who are you to tell us what to do with our lives?” Jesus said to them, “Just talking to you is frustrating! I see your anxiety and your ingrained patterns clearly, and I hate that you keep choosing to live by those things; but my deepest, most noble self is not a source of hatred. I can only tell you what I know for myself, that living from a space of love and integrity is possible. I can't live your life for you, I can only tell you that you have the potential to do something different in your own life." They did not understand that he was speaking to them about clarifying their own guiding principles. So Jesus said, “When you take a step back from your anxiety and imagine an ideal way of being, then you'll realize that I'm living out that ideal, and that I'm not trying to build myself up, but I'm communicating what makes sense to me about living intentionally with integrity to my own values. And my values and guiding principles don't leave me doubting what I've done or said. I have confidence in who I am, and you could too.” As he was saying these things, many began to follow his example.

A Little Experiment: Be nonjudgmental. You don't need to judge anybody in order to validate or bolster your own identity or perspective. Catch yourself in the act of judgment this week and stop yourself. Maybe you want to prepare a phrase like, "We see things differently, and that's alright."

Another Little Experiment: Judge. When you catch yourself being judgmental, consider what the other person may be experiencing. Are they afraid of something? Do they perhaps feel unheard or un-valued? Is there a way you can be compassionate or loving to someone who sees the world through different lenses than you? 

John 8:1-11 Stones, Shame, and Something Better

The story of a woman caught in adultery in John 8 is familiar to a lot of church-goers. Some versions of the Bible include this story without comment, but many will now mention in a footnote that these verses are not in the oldest copies of the text now available to us. Some copies of John insert the story in other places, add it appears in Luke instead in some ancient manuscripts. What this suggests is that the story was not part of the original text, most likely because it was not among the stories about Jesus that circulated in the first century. It may have been concocted by a scribe, added in from a fragment of some other collection of writings, or even invented in Christian community and inserted into the existing text. Even with the knowledge that this was not part of the original book of John, many people still appreciate this story and Bible publishers continue to include it. We might learn something from examining why this is.

Of course, the inclusion of this later tale that clearly is not well-remembered from the life of a historical Jesus might present a challenge to the authority of the Bible. Some believers profess that the Bible is infallible, and others that the book is inerrant. Does the appearance of a story that is obviously a later addition to John cast doubt on the veracity of scripture? Or does it at least call into question where all the other stories came from? If at some point scribes were willing to make an addition that was not part of what they were copying, they obviously did not define the legitimacy of the biblical text the same way many people do today. They apparently were concerned less with historical accuracy and more with some spiritual value of the stories. Is it possible that twenty-first century readers are sometimes so caught up in the superficial arguments about historical accuracy that they miss discovering a deeper value of the texts they defend?

Whether the event actually happened or not, this story conveys a powerful vision of how society ought to work -- of how human relationships could be strengthened. Lots of Christian commentators have explored the nuances of this story. They consider all of the things the woman could possibly have been doing to be legitimately convicted of adultery (anything from smiling at a soldier when she serves him wine to earning a living as a prostitute). They theorize about the fate of the man in the situation (which the story never mentions and thus is pure conjecture). Some commentators make much of the statement that the Pharisees were testing Jesus, recognizing that they seemed to care little about the actual fate of the woman or actual integrity to the "law of Moses."

Many commentators also apply the story to the lives of readers in helpful ways, centering on three basic values they find in the story. Generally speaking, the central ideas are: (1) we should not judge other people because we have our own transgressions to answer for; (2) forgiveness is more virtuous than justice; and (3) everyone has the capacity to change what they're doing and live better. These are not bad lessons for anyone, believer or non-believer. If people were less bloodthirsty and more graceful with one another, a phenomenal number of societal issues might dissipate. Of course, a lot of the commentators find it necessary to write about the character and desires of God, but that's to be expected.

This is one of those instances, then, in which a Humanist reading of a story can line up pretty closely with a believer's reading of the story. Whether the event ever actually took place is not an issue worth exploring. It's more worthwhile to consider where we find ourselves in the characters of the story and where we might shift our habits a bit in order to reflect our deepest, most noble selves a little more.

When are we the Pharisees? There are times at which we are eager to catch someone else in a logical or ethical trap. We like to "win" verbal exchanges by uttering the best zinger or tearing apart another person's perspective. From personal experience, I can say that it's hard to know exactly what I have won in those situations. It feels good to be verbally or logically superior for a minute or two, but I'm not sure that there are long-term benefits. It certainly doesn't seem to create the kind of connections with other people that I really value.

When we find that we are being critical of other people's choices, or even so judgmental that we are inclined to do harm (physical, verbal, or emotional harm), we might remember this story. We might imagine the stones that we metaphorically hold in our hands, and the ease with which we hurl those stones at the people we judge and criticize. Our imaginations might even get more graphic about the harm we would do if our harsh words were actual stones, but that may not be necessary.

We know that we don't want someone to harm us, and we know that harsh words and critical judgments can do harm. If we stop and think about it, we also probably know of a few things that other people might judge about us. We've all missed the mark at some point. We could stand to be a little more compassionate and recognize our connection with other human beings.

When are we the woman? There are times in which we feel exposed, either publicly or just to our own selves. There are times when our actions do not line up with who we want to be -- when our behavior does not match our values and our guiding principles. We may feel like curling into a fetal position and giving up, but we don't have to do that. If we know what we want our lives to stand for, we can commit to doing a better job of living into that vision.

Shame is powerful. Shame is a common limiting factor in our lives. When we believe that we are not enough, or that we are worthless, it's a real challenge to live into a vision of a best possible version of ourselves. That doesn't seem to be far off from what the woman in this story might feel. Overwhelming shame, to the extent that no future is possible. It's important for us to find people who will acknowledge our worth and our value, and it's important for us to be willing to affirm our own worth and value.

There will be people who want to tear us down. There will be resistance. That doesn't mean that we can't move forward. We are capable of doing something different in our lives. Of course, we have to recognize what we really want first. We have to know what we're living into. We need to hold a best possible version of ourselves in mind -- a vision of how we want to be in the world. Otherwise, we are more likely to keep repeating the same mistakes. It's easy to miss the mark when we don't know what the mark is.

When are we Jesus? We see in this story one character who is not swayed by the anxiety of the crowd, who is not burdened by his own sense of shame, who is clever without being insulting and loving without being permissive. Certainly, the Jesus character in this story never approves of adultery, and he doesn't disapprove of stoning people as punishment for a crime. The authors of the story are in a particular cultural context, after all. The idea is that there is more to us than that. There is more to us than cold, vicious justice. There is more to us than oppressive shame. If we are willing to see our own worth and value, it's a short step further to acknowledge the worth and dignity of everybody else.

Jesus in this story is the anti-Pharisee as well as the anti-adulteress. He lives by a set of guiding principles that reflect his own sense of purpose, not the ideals and habits of the society around him. He confidently and calmly expresses his perspective because he doesn't feel threatened by the anxiety of others. He has done enough personal work that he isn't uncertain or wavering about his own values. He accepts the authority that other people grant him, yet he doesn't feel the need to do what they want him to do with that authority.

We are like the Jesus of this story when we reach out in love to others and maintain our own integrity. This story actually demonstrates loving action toward both the woman and the crowd. Toward the woman, it's an obviously loving and empowering act to affirm her worth, to affirm her capability of doing things differently in her life, to publicly restore her sense of dignity. We can do that for others if we are willing. Toward the Pharisees, the loving act is perhaps less obvious. Yet, to give violent people pause before they have a chance to do something they'll regret is surely an expression of love. To gently call attention to a moment when actions are out of alignment with guiding principles can be loving. To demonstrate another way of being to people who are caught up in their own anxiety is loving.

So, this story points to the fact that we are all human beings who have at some point fallen short of our deepest values. It's easy for us to find ways to punish other people when they fall short. Sometimes we do this physically. Often we punish people with labels and insults. We can also punish ourselves. We're quite good at that, actually. We can be so overwhelmed with our shame and anxiety that we see no way forward. We have the capacity to do something different, though. We can love other people and ourselves better than we are in the habit of doing. Human beings are innately beautiful and creative, whatever else may be true about us. Sometimes it's just a matter of what human traits we are willing to pay the most attention to.


A Little Experiment: Be the Pharisees. This can be very revealing, but it may reveal some things that make you uncomfortable. Pay attention to your words this week. Count every harsh criticism or judgment you speak against another person. Especially include conversations that you feel like you "win." Do your words in these moments align with your values and guiding principles? Is there another way you could speak honestly with someone without inflicting harm?

Another Little Experiment: Be the adulteress. (Careful, now!) Count the number of times this week you say aloud or consciously think a criticism against yourself. Include moments that you feel shame. Are your statements about yourself really accurate? Is there some truth about your beauty, creativity, and capability that you are neglecting? If your actions aren't lining up with your guiding principles, does it help you to beat yourself up, or is there another way you can bring your actions into alignment with your values?

A Long Experiment: Be the Jesus. Seek out ways to affirm the inherent worth and dignity of the people around you. Listen to people without trying to solve their problems. Set an example of how to live into your values with integrity and intentionality. What changes do you notice in your life and in your relationships after a month? After six months? After three years?