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Parts of this story are not fitted for public discourse. But if we may not preach about the woman, we may and ought about her accusers, and the sin of fault finding of which they were guilty.

I. CENSORIOUSNESS GROWS FROM AN EVIL EAGERNESS. Many forms of eagerness are invaluable — diligence in business, promptitude in doing good, in giving, helping, etc. Here was an occasion in which eagerness of kindness was much needed. "If ox or ass fall into a pit, straightway pull him out" — if man or woman, be quicker still. But this was an evil eagerness, as seen —

1. In the needless number of accusers — one or two would have done.

2. In their want of delicacy, disregarding the crowd and the woman's feelings.

3. In their unfairness. The law of Moses awarded the same penalty to man and woman; probably the fear of the knife of the man makes them more content with the capture of the woman, and so they come with no thoughts of her shame and painful future, but clamour for her condemnation. How common is this evil eagerness. Some lose languor with scandal as if it were a tonic. Some faces are never so full of interest as when telling or investigating something which the generous heart would cover and for which the devout heart would pray. Perhaps like these men you would find your fault finding has its root not in virtuous indignation, but in an evil eagerness.

II. CENSORIOUSNESS GENERALLY HAS OTHER GRAVE FAULTS CONNECTED WITH IT. It is quite a mistake to suppose that the more faults a man finds the less he has. On the contrary, the censorious are never faultless. "Being convicted in their own consciences" means convicted of having committed similar crimes. Their bitterness was not the indignation of the innocent against the guilty, but of the "not found out" against the "found out." Purity does not clamour for vengeance, but the worse we are the less patient are we with others as bad. It is hard to conceive of such hypocrisy, but a little thought will show how it would grow.

1. They want credit for character, and denunciation is the cheapest way of getting it: therefore are frequently taken. By condemning evil they are the more likely to be taken for good.

2. They had, like us, two standards of goodness — one for themselves and one for their neighbours. Divers weights are an abomination to God, but a comfort to us. We weigh our duties by one set and our neighbours by another. "If I am angry it is nervous irritability, or a habit of speaking my mind; but if you are, you are ill-mannered." So we all reason. So these men did. Their delinquencies were "gaieties," "hot blood of youth," "occasional excesses unimportant in their character," balanced by superior virtues. But for a woman to so act was intolerable. We like a monopoly of our vices: no one must poach on our preserves. So we dislike men of our own faults with an intensity the innocent never feel. You will learn the faults men have by listening to their favourite charges. It is the proud who judge most severely the proud; so with the greedy, the dishonourable, the selfish. Are you censorious? Take it as a sign of faultiness, and let severity begin at home.

III. CENSORIOUSNESS DISTRESSES THE HEART OF CHRIST. He stooped down as though He heard them not, distressed at sinners accusing a fellow sinner. He is the Great Judge, and soon all will be gathered at His bar; and yet they come accusing one another to Him. He sees how much each needs mercy, but instead of supplicating it, here are eleven sinners asking condemnation to the twelfth. No wonder he was shocked at the incongruity. Astonished that so few use their neighbours' faults as mirrors, and that for the mercy they could get there are so few applicants, and for the censure He was so slow to give, so many. This unseemliness attaches to all severity! He still, though unseen, overhears the slighting speech, etc., and turns His head from one of the most grievous activities that dishonour human nature.

IV. CENSORIOUSNESS SOONER OR LATER IS GRIEVOUSLY PUT TO SHAME. There is more hare than the shame of unholy censure — there is failure of a snare laid for Christ, and the awful rebuke of the Saviour's glance and speech. They came secure in being unknown to Him, forgetting that every fault leaves a mark — vice, some coarseness of feature as well as thought; pride, some line of scorn; falseness, some restlessness of eye. The Son of Man had only to look and see. Their souls wither beneath His strange words, "He that is without sin," etc. What a terrible rebuke in the Temple; in the presence of the people whose reverence they had won by hypocrisy; and it wrought no relenting. No one says "I perceive Thou art a prophet," or "Depart from me for I am a sinful man," or "Whence knowest Thou me? Thou art the Son of God, the King of Israel." Only shame and bitterness fill them. Doubtless all made excuses. One had a committee requiring immediate attendance; another willing to be the expositor declines to be the executioner of the law; another vaunted his exemption from any such vice, but had come to get the law sanctioned; another was going to Jericho and wanted to catch the caravan — but all suddenly abandoned the charge and in confusion left the place.

V. CENSORIOUSNESS AND ITS METHODS STANDS IN UTTER CONTRAST WITH CHRIST AND HIS METHODS. The Scribes have a zeal for public welfare and so has Christ. In their case coarse sin mixed with cruel anger unite to destroy a poor sinner; in His infinite purity mixed with tenderest love unite to destroy sin and save the sinner. He does not pardon because she has not yet repented; but, declining to condemn her, He bids her "go and sin no more."

(R. Glover.)

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KJV: And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst,

WEB: The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman taken in adultery. Having set her in the midst,