Luke 13:1-9
“Second Chances”
March 24, 2019
“We are one. They are us.” With those words, the world witnessed a new model of repentance. Instead of dwelling on the perpetrator of unspeakable violence and death; instead of finger pointing and promising revenge; instead of uttering what we’ve grown accustomed to hearing from our leaders after a tragic event which often later prove to be empty promises, she turned this dramatic and painful moment in her nation’s history into metanoia – the Greek word that Jesus uses here and which we so inadequately translate into a word that many of us associate with guilt – that is repentance.
New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Arhern, in the wake of the terrorist slaughter of 50 Muslim worshippers at Friday prayer, chose to move with her nation toward the true meaning of metanoia or repentance – toward a transformative change of heart. While she was offering comfort and inclusion to the Muslim community that is a small but vital minority in New Zealand, she also asked that the world turn its attention toward the scourge of white nationalism and white supremacy. Additionally, the Prime Minister immediately worked along with Parliament to change their laws around the very firearms that took the 50 lives. This embodied the concept of change of heart through action, not just words.
When terrible things happen – be it at the hands of humans like the mosque shootings in New Zealand or natural disasters such as Cyclone Idai which has recently claimed more than 700 lives in Mozambique, Zimbabwe and Malawi or the catastrophic floods on top of snowmelt in the Midwest – the temptation always exist to ask the question why do bad things happen to good people and often following up with the thought we can have a hard time admitting – Is God causing this?
In today’s passage we can breathe a sigh of relief because Jesus’ response is a resounding no to this way of thinking. He is rejecting the idea that was raised and often embraced throughout the Old Testament that obedience brings blessings and disobedience brings curses. In spite of this new covenant and new way of thinking that Jesus proclaimed, we keep asking either openly or privately in the darker recesses of our being “Why?”
Could it be that the world is too complicated to understand? Maybe it’s because we might not always be witnesses to but sometimes the bearers of the pain. Might it be that when tragedy or injustice happens we reconsider the big questions because we yearn for things to be orderly and make sense, not doing well with mystery or no answer at all? Or perhaps we want an out from accepting our role, however distant. To continue to ask “Why did this terrible thing happen?” keeps us in question mode rather than solution mode. Small changes – standing up to hate speech when we hear it, electing folks who will work for change, donating our time, talent or treasure to causes that are working to undo injustice – these are ways we can actually take steps toward making a difference.
Spending our time constantly asking the why question gets us further and further away from the “What are we going to do about it?” question. As one writer so poignantly asked, “Why do we rush to a mind that explains rather than a heart that cracks open with tears?” (Eric D. Barreto, The Christian Century, 2/27/19, 190)
Coupling this concern with repentance or change of heart with the second chances that are offered in the parable of the fig tree can leave us with even more questions because we get no resolution with this parable. We don’t know what happens when it ends. Does the tree ever produce figs again? Does it get chopped down? Maybe these two stories bound together in our reading is pointing out that the fig tree which doesn’t bear fruit right now needs more care. The gardener rises up to defend and protect the tree which has been a disappointment, not throwing in the towel but rather advocating that with some tender loving care, giving the tree more room and feeding it with manure in the face of potential elimination, is to acknowledge the concept of redemption.
It certainly is much easier to eliminate something – an idea, a proposal, a new and possibly unknown solution or an undesirable and powerless group of people – say refugees or addicts or the mentally ill or homeless by banishing them from our sight and thus our minds. It is harder to devote time and energy into their growth and well-being. Could the lesson from Jesus be that just as we are continually given second and third and fifteenth chances, so too should we be offering the same to others, even the hard to love others – not in a sentimental way but in a way that speaks of the Kingdom building here on earth that was at the heart of Jesus’ message and ministry? Reminding us again that a fruit tree, like our life’s work, is not just about bearing fruit for our own enjoyment or nourishment, rather the fruit we bear may be for the Kingdom to come on this earth, the generations that come after us. When we consider what we as individual disciples of Jesus and as his church are striving for, what is it that we should be focusing our energies on that will bear the fruit of lovingkindness for generations to come?
Today marks the 39th anniversary of the assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero who was murdered while saying Mass in a small chapel in a cancer hospital in El Salvador where he lived. His was a life lived on the principal of new beginnings for the poor and forgotten of his homeland. This prayer, often mistakenly attributed to him, is one that has come to be known as words which embody all that his ministry was about and speaks powerfully to these teachings from Jesus:
A Future Not Our Own
It helps now and then to step back and take a long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of
saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession
brings perfection, no pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives include everything.
This is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one
day will grow. We water the seeds already planted
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects
far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of
liberation in realizing this.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning,
a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s
grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the
difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders, ministers, not
messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.
Amen.