Sunday, March 20th, 2022 – Third Sunday in Lent
Philip’s Reflection: “Green Shoots” (Luke 13:8)
“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you,
O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Ps. 19:14)
There are more than enough dreadful images on our televisions screens each day, of
the effects of war, and evidence of human brutality on the lives of innocent people – not
to need another in this morning’s worship service. But with the children now safely out
of the sanctuary, we must mention another, the one we just heard read from the Gospel
of Luke. We hear that some of those who were accompanying Jesus tell him about a
group of Galileans who had been executed by the Roman Governor of Judea, Pontius
Pilate, in what seems to have been a gruesome ritual. And Jesus, himself a Galilean,
asks them the real question that’s on their minds – “Do you think that the Galileans
suffered in this way [because] they were worse Galileans than all others?” (Lk 13:2). In
other words, he might have said, “Are you suggesting that they deserved to die?”; or
that Pontius Pilate was acting as some type of instrument of divine judgement against
them? And Jesus answers the question - “No, I tell you, but unless you repent, you will
perish as they did.” (Lk 13:3). And in case they miss the point – Jesus asks them
another question and what about the 18 innocent people who were killed when a tower
from the wall of Jerusalem fell on them – “were they worse offenders than all the others
living in Jerusalem?” (Lk 13:4) – did they deserve to die any more than the hundreds of
people who had passed by that spot a few minutes or hours or days before? And Jesus
says “No I tell you” and again “unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”
As a pastoral caregiver, I’m called into situations where similar, tough questions are
asked – how could God allow this to happen, what have I done wrong to deserve this,
why has God punished me like this? Perhaps we’ve all been there. And the truthful
answer is surely the only answer – “I don’t know”. There often is no explanation.
Accidents happen. And Silence and Presence and Compassion are surely the only
appropriate response because it is unthinkable that the loving and merciful God in
whom we live and move and have our being would ever cause such tragedy. We just
don’t know why bad things happen to good people, except when they are the actions of
bad people. The message of the Crucifixion is that God suffers too; that God bears the
sin, grief, and suffering of the world.
Whether they are tragic consequences of evil or risky actions, or the unanswerable
questions at a time of accidental tragedy and innocent loss, Jesus says “No”, you
mustn’t blame God – you didn’t deserve this, it’s not your fault, God is not judging or
punishing you or any of those who suffer or die, any more than God rewards you if you
do good things, we can’t control God, we can only control ourselves and how we think,
and in situations of great tragedy or humanitarian disaster, as we’re witnessing at the
moment, we do repent, we do experience the sinfulness, the depravity of the human
condition, the shocking violence of modern military weapons aimed at terrorizing and
displacing thousands and millions of innocent civilians. Jesus says “No” – no one
deserves that, God didn’t cause that, but unless we repent, unless as individuals, cities,
and nations and as a world order, we turn away from violence, we too could suffer a
similar fate. In these weeks of Lent, we have an opportunity to reflect deeply on these
questions: what does repentance look like for you and me; how do we contribute to
peace and the alleviation of the humanitarian disaster that has unfolded before our
eyes, when the scale of the problems seem so large? And perhaps we need to start, as
we were reminded by St. David a few weeks back, by “Doing the little things”,
individually, and then as a community, and then as a nation, that make a difference.
And, as Jesus did when faced with situations of grief or loss or suffering, we start with
prayer.
I think this is the message behind the parable of the barren fig tree that Jesus goes on
to tell those who were travelling with him. For three years, the owner had come “looking
for fruit on this fig tree” (Lk 13:8) and each time he had found none, it was completely
barren, not a green fig in sight, and in frustration he orders his gardener to “cut it down”
– why should I be wasting the soil in which it’s planted, surely we can make more
productive use of that plot of land to grow something better, more fruitful? And as you
heard, the gardener pleads with the owner to give the tree one more year – he’ll loosen
the soil and put some fertilizer on it and then “if it bears fruit next year, [all will be] well
and good; but if not, you can cut it down.” (Lk 13:9)
We had a lively discussion in our Lenten Bible Study on this parable – what is Jesus
telling his followers, what does it mean for us today – the owner, who shows such
impatience, an impetuous, judgmental, intolerant man; and the gardener, patient,
hopeful, the advocate who places himself at risk for the sake of a fig tree; and what are
we to make of the fig tree itself, this plant that had such promise, such potential for good
fruit, that is barren, unproductive, is it the fig tree’s fault, or is it the poor quality of the
soil, perhaps not enough water, or lack of attention? And as before, there are no easy
answers, and we must try not to write ourselves or others into the script – it’s not difficult
today, is it, to find an example of the intolerant owner who, faced with setback, loses
patience and wants to take an ax to the plant and cut the damn thing down, if I can’t get
my fruit I’m going to destroy it, flatten it, take it down to the ground and dig up the roots
and re-plant?
Instead, we look for meaning in the parable itself and it seems likely that the parable is
about the gardener, particularly in light of what we’ve just heard Jesus say, about
turning towards God. The gardener doesn’t judge or blame or punish, it’s not the fig
tree’s fault he might have said, be patient, show a bit of love, let’s clear the weeds, put
some fertilizer down, give it some more water, because this plant has potential, this tree
can produce plenty of good fruit, perhaps it’s a late bloomer and it might become the
most fruitful fig tree you’ve ever known. Let’s give it more time and see what it can do
for us. And perhaps by next year all will be well and good.
It’s a good parable for this time of year, this first day of Spring because we have all had
a tough winter, and it’s easy to lose patience and the barren period seems to have
lasted for many months, perhaps even for the past two years. It’s been a hard winter for
this community too, and we have felt the effects of lockdowns and loneliness and we’re
looking for a sense of direction or purpose. And then even as we emerge from the
winter of a global pandemic our world is once again plunged into chaos and uncertainty.
Spring reminds us, however, of new life, of the beauty of God’s creation, and it is a time
when we see the evidence of God’s goodness even with the images from Ukraine and
other war zones crowding our minds and we cry out, in the words of the Psalmist we
heard earlier – “O God... I seek you, my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you.” (Ps
63:1). Despite the many challenges the world is facing, we have also seen the first
green shoots of Spring, the first colours of the rhododendrons and daffodils and
forsythia; and so it is for this community too, new signs of life, evidence of the potential
for new growth, a community that has deep roots and one that has survived the barren
winter of a global pandemic. “Sir, let it alone for one more year [says the gardener] until
I dig around it and put manure on it!”
I’m not so sure about the manure. But let us, as Jesus says, repent, turn to God, give
ourselves some time, do some digging and some pruning, and have confidence that the
fig tree can become a beautiful and fruitful tree, a tree that no one would ever dream of
cutting down.
Amen.