Greetings my friends.
This is Mark Gladman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your Friendly Neighbourhood Monk in Docs.
Welcome to day 23 of our Lent 2026 journey in the wilderness,
Still held as we walk through Lent to Easter,
Reflecting on the Gospel of John.
As we begin today I invite you,
As always,
Just to allow yourself to sit still,
Steady,
Settled and supported.
Take a nice slow deep breath in and a long unforced breath out.
Let your body and your mind and your heart know that in this moment you are in a safe space.
As you open yourself to the voice of the Spirit,
As we reflect on John chapter 8 verses 1 to 11.
In this very famous passage,
It begins with a woman who's being brought out to stand in the open.
She's surrounded,
She's exposed and she's accused.
And the voices of her accusers are raised,
Their stones are ready.
It's an energy that's charged with condemnation.
I wonder if you can feel the atmosphere of that space.
Not to relive the shame of the moment,
But to understand the pressure,
The tightening,
The nervous system on high alert.
Perhaps you know that space.
Maybe you've never been physically surrounded like that,
But internally you felt surrounded.
Old accusations are rehearsed,
Mistakes are replayed,
Words that echo long after they were spoken.
And notice,
Without judgment,
Where you still rehearse accusations against yourself.
Just notice.
And now see Jesus entering this scene.
He doesn't join his voice to the condemnation.
But he doesn't dismiss the seriousness of harm either.
Instead,
What he does is he bends down.
His presence is steady and grounded.
And it's a presence that has interrupted the spiral.
And it seems to stop everyone in their tracks.
Just feel that quality.
Perhaps we might call it grounded mercy.
It's not mercy that excuses or humiliates,
But it certainly brings stability to the moment,
Brings balance,
Brings equity,
If you like,
Back.
And then notice what happens in the story.
Jesus writes something in the dirt and then the noise dissipates.
The stones are dropped.
The crowd begins to disperse.
What you've seen here is mercy interrupting violence.
And this is important because mercy is not permissiveness.
Mercy doesn't pretend that harm doesn't matter.
But in bringing mercy into the picture,
It grounds the situation.
It restores dignity first.
Because without dignity,
Change and transformation can't take root.
And imagine Jesus now turning towards the woman.
The crowd's gone.
No more spectacle,
No more audience,
Just presence.
And Jesus says to her,
Neither do I condemn you.
And I invite you to allow those words to be spoken towards you.
These are words that are restoring your dignity.
They haven't dismissed the responsibility of your actions,
But they're restoring your dignity.
Notice what happens in your body as you hear them.
Neither do I condemn you.
I wonder what would it mean to receive mercy without defending yourself?
Just for this moment.
As we keep noticing in the wilderness,
There's nowhere to hide.
There's nothing to distract us.
There's no crowd to blame.
There's no performance.
But in the wilderness,
Mercy is present there as well.
Feel that even in your most exposed places,
Even in your unfinished growth,
Mercy is here.
Let it steady you deep within.
Let it anchor you to the ground beneath your feet.
And from this grounded mercy,
Jesus speaks and says,
Go and from now on,
Do not sin.
So notice that correction comes,
But only after dignity is restored.
Compassion precedes correction.
Notice that important order.
Compassion first,
Correction later.
I wonder,
Can you allow compassion to come first within you?
Before the self critique,
Before the self analysis,
Before pulling together the plans to improve,
Can you let mercy first be the soil in which you plant yourself for those things to come later?
Because growth never comes from being shamed into change.
It grows from being held steady enough to choose a different path.
And as you take another slow,
Deep breath,
Ask yourself the question,
Where do you still rehearse the old accusations?
And in this short moment,
Gently place those rehearsals into the hands of Christ.
What would it mean to live today from restored dignity rather than defended shame?
Just stay here for a few breaths,
Receiving grounded mercy,
Feeling that mercy stabilize you,
Feeling that mercy protect what is tender,
Feeling that mercy dignify what has felt small.
Not dismissed,
Not humiliated,
But invited,
Invited to stand upright,
To walk forward and to grow.
In mercy,
Let that invitation settle deeply.
As we come to the end of our time together,
I invite you to take one final slow breath in and a long breath out.
And as you prepare to go from this space,
Carry this grounded mercy with you.
Let it interrupt accusation,
Let it steady your body and let it become the soil from which your growth emerges.
And may grace,
Peace and love go and grow with you today and every day.
Amen.
Until tomorrow,
Grace and peace,
My friends.
