Worth It!
Luke 13:1-9
At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. 2He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? 3No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. 4Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? 5No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”
6Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. 7So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ 8He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. 9If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’” (NIV)
Worth It!
Wandering through South Carolina this past week, I was fascinated with the world under my feet. Slowing down, and forgoing driving I walked the sandy beaches and was fascinated by the carefully carved paths of Hilton Head and manicured gardens with sidewalks designed for only certain users. Mile and miles of paved paths for the exclusive use of those able to vacation or escape to this paradise island. The paths that connected the right people to the right places.
Back on the mainland, I found my feet treading yet another pat - cobblestone streets that have lasted hundreds of years. I was reminded of the history those stones have seen, the wear and tear they survived, the best and worst of our nation’s travels. Those roads built on the backs of slaves drug across the globe, roads drenched in their blood and in the blood of wars both revolutionary and civil. Cracked and forgotten or maybe newly maintained as our world slowly creeps out from pandemic limitations.
Focusing on my feet I was privileged to put aside the goings on in the world temporarily, but it all came rushing back. No matter the distractions of the road, this week’s scripture finds me in a new place – you know when you read something you put yourself into the story. It is all too easy this year to be in the shoes of the some who were asking Jesus questions. Basically – “Why do bad things happen to good people?” or even more simply “Why?” Our faith has no easy answer but calls us to sit in the gray mystery of belief.
In Jesus’ time, many would have believed that bad things happening to you meant God was punishing you for your sins. Maybe even some misguided preachers feel that way today too. I do not believe that is the way of our God. Jesus’ answer supports my belief. “Do you think they were worse sinners?”, he asks – ‘No’ is his resounding answer. But rather than explaining away our God questions or giving us simple answers, he shifts to his more pressing concern - relationship. Jesus was Immanuel – God with us.
Jesus is emphatic – Repent or you will likewise perish. We hear this and it rings of damnation, an ‘or else’ from Jesus. That simply does not fit especially from Luke – so let’s look more closely at those two words – repent and perish - repent is definitely a theme in Luke’s writings appearing more than twice as often as anywhere else in new testament, but rather than a confession or simply saying you are sorry for wrongs done – the Greek for repent here - metanoia means a turning around, transforming your faith, your life direction and reorienting everything you are and everything you do. It is turning toward God, leaning into the mystery of our God knowing that while we won’t have the answers to our questions, we do receive the hope and the promises of relationship as beloved children.
Which turns us to the second word perish – yes, that word is hard it calls on us to sit up – change now. Yet, it is the same Greek word in the parable of the lost sheep. Turn toward God now or you too will be lost. However, even then, we are beloved children of God. Remember the parable of he lost sheep – God went after even the one. He loves us that much! One more clue is that the form of the pronoun you Jesus uses is plural – tying us once again together – love one another as I have loved you. In this mess together.
So, since we can’t possibly figure out the complex amazing mystery of all our God is and does, and the world seems running astray, do we just stand by on the sideline and shake our heads? I think that is where the parable of the fig tree comes into play. Unlike the first part of our reading where I placed myself into scripture, in this parable, most of the commentaries and discussions debate who the characters represent – where is God in this parable?
Is God the farmer expecting the tree to produce fruit where it is planted? Is God the vineyard worker tenderly caring for the vines and the fig tree? Many have proposed that the parable represents Jesus pleading for God to give us, the barren fig tree, one more chance. Yet God who goes after the one lost sheep seems at odds with one that needs to be stopped from chopping down a tree that didn’t bear fruit. We get so confused when we think Jesus stepped in for us and took our punishment, intervened. The thought runs that Jesus took a punishment that a ‘just’ God had to give. At its worst, this God who must puish separates Jesus from God in a way that breaks relationship and denies wholly human and wholly divine as if Jesus would act one way and God another. It makes a mockery of God’s true forgiveness.
Jesus is on his journey toward a cross not to atone for sins from a punishing wrathful God but rather to show the lengths that God would go to for us, the depth and breadth of the mysterious all-encompassing love God has for each and every one of us. Every single one worth that much to God. God who wanted to identify with us fully so willingly took on suffering and death.
Perhaps in this parable Jesus is the fig tree. We have heard I am the vine and you are the branches. Fig trees would have sometimes been planted in vineyards. They brought many benefits – shade for the gardeners, shelter for the many birds, trellising for grape vines and even in some cases a necessary support structure for special, highly valued grape varietals that needed to grow in the tops of trees. (Pliny)
If you have ever looked at the fig tree, you might also notice how the fruit grows. It is anchored almost directly from the branches. Maybe we are the gardeners being called to patience, to nurture Christ’s body in this place. Perhaps Jesus is calling us to embody the mercy rather than looking to the bad things in the world and allowing them to separate us more. Maybe God is calling us to put our manure to a better use instead of looking at what we can’t do. Instead of seeing a barren tree in a wrong place, we are called to look with new eyes.
As The Reverend Alan Brehms says, “But when we hear of tragedy so terrible that it makes us question the goodness and mercy of God, Jesus reminds that God’s mercy is never failing, God’s goodness is inexhaustible, God’s compassion never gives up on us. God doesn’t “send” tragedies into our lives to punish us. God is the one who is always working to bring good out of evil, always working to bring life out of death. God is the one who, even when dealing with those who are wayward, says, “come to me, you who have no money, come, buy and eat,” “listen to me and your soul will delight in the richest of food,” “come to me, that your soul may live” (Isa. 55:1-3).”
On this Mr. Roger’s Day we are called to remember the beloved pastor who asked us to look for the helpers to know we are each and every one of us worthy and beloved neighbors. Look for the helpers and God with us in our messes. Look to God calling us from hatred instead to love, to turn anew toward God and one another, Repentance calls us to know that there is little we do to preserve ourselves but we are charged to turn our whole beings around - toward God to respond to the amazing grace and mercy.
The nice neat rows of vines disrupted by the fig tree may not fit our plan – our plans are too often nice cookie cutter squares. In the reality, plants and paths turn back upon themselves overlapping here and there, twisting off course to mysteriously show up in the right place or suddenly burst into the light. When we try to sculpt paths behind fences or layout the world to our design, it comes up short. Roads are meant to connect not separate – they should lead us to one another. Winding from one neighborhood to the next with no walls. So too the vines bind us together – orient us to God. Jesus’ imagery in the vineyard isn’t clear cut either. I am the vine you are the branches is not a clean imagery but intertwined jumble of connectedness with sometimes one branch supporting another but all dependent upon the whole. Jesus – God with us intertwined in a winding relationship pulls us in doesn’t leave us to our own devices but calls for us to be transformed receiving, living and giving- extravagant mercy. Amen.
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