Casting the first stone

Today's Gospel tells the story of a woman who was "caught in the act of adultery" and brought before Jesus to be stoned to death, as was the Jewish law at the time. Jesus told the angry crowds that the person among them who was without sin should be the first to cast a stone. The story continues that one by one, they all went away, leaving the woman alone with Jesus. Jesus forgave the woman her sins telling her "Has no one condemned you? Neither do I condemn you, now go and sin no more."

When I was a child, the concept of adultery was so horrible, and so sinful, that we could not believe it really happened in the world. Like stealing, and murder, it was something so terrible, so unspeakable, that it was relegated to sordid tales in movies or books. But it never really happened in our world. Certainly not in our town, or on our street. And never in our home.

Today I am an adult, and I know how real adultery is. How commonplace. It has really become almost unremarkable. People speak of it freely, and admit it openly. And nobody seems shocked, surprised or appalled by it. Instead, the sanctity of marriage has now been reduced to the stuff of legends. Some people find it almost laughable.

When I was preparing for marriage just three years ago, I was amazed at how many people around me were either divorced, separated, or living in an adulterous marriage. It was almost insulting to me that so many people would freely flaunt their own failed attempts at marriage right in front of me, as I was preparing for the sacrament of marriage.

I was surprised that, even if they had indeed failed at marriage, they would be so willing to expose that truth to me. Why would friends who purportedly cared about me want to spoil or darken my joy and happiness with their own tales of infidelity or unhappiness? I seemed to be surrounded by it, and it felt like a bad joke.

Recently a friend called to chat - mostly about her boyfriend's problems with his ex-wife and kids and her own problems with her ex-husband and kids. After introducing me to the initial "shock" of her infidelity and divorce a couple of years ago, she would often claim that she "did things in the wrong order" and that she shouldn't have cheated on her husband. She would say that the right thing would have been to divorce him first, and then start seeing her boyfriend. And she will act contrite, as though admitting to this 'small mistake' were all she truly needed to do.

Several people very close to me have called me for counsel over the past couple of years, admitting infidelity. Sometimes physical and always emotional. Seeking out my advice and perhaps even my approval. It's amazing how strong of a case people can build against someone they once promised to love, honor and cherish until death. And usually the crimes these spouses stand accused of are little more than being human, or being themselves.

"She never makes the grand gesture, you know?" said one of them. "She wants me to do everything - she has no opinion, no input." I listened as he described the back-end of what he used to think was flexibility and agreeability. Now she was condemned for it.

So many ways people characterize their need to leave:
"We're both different people today - we grew apart."
"I don't even know who she is anymore."
"He doesn't meet my emotional needs."
"We just fell out of love."

How do you fall out of love? I will admit to being a bit naive, having only been married for 3 years. But in these short three years, I have learned how much work goes into being married. It is not as effortless as I had once believed.

Indeed, many of the things I love about Jim can become aggravation points today. His wonderful sense of humor, for example. Sometimes when he thinks he's being funny, I think he's being mean. He'll tell me, "but you love me for my sense of humor!"

It's hard to find people to talk to today about being married who share my point of view. Marriage is a sacrament - it's more than simply a living arrangement. And when I explain my views on marriage, some people take it as an indictment or judgement of themselves.

I don't wish to cast any stone, much less the first. At the same time, I feel like my silence is almost an endorsement. Perhaps that is the problem today? Are too many of us silent when we need to speak? Are too many of us afraid of how we'll look and sound if we profess that we think every married person should be held accountable for the vows they've taken?

I don't have any answers. If you do, please share.