Sermon for 3rd Sunday in Lent 2022

 

3^rd Sunday in Lent 2022

Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem

The Rev. Carrie Ballenger

(as always...this written version is not exactly what I preached in person!)

Luke 13:1-9

Last week, we heard a Scripture text in which Jesus described his love for us a being like a mother hen who longs to gather her children under her wings.

Last week, a maternity hospital in Marioupol, Ukraine was also bombed, killing several people, including a pregnant woman and her unborn baby.

This week, we have heard the Word of God from the prophet Isaiah, inviting us all to “come to the waters.” Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters, and you that have no money, come, buy and eat!

And also this week, we know that a bread line in Ukraine was targeted by bombs, and a theater where hundreds of civilians were seeking refuge was destroyed. Outside the building someone had painted the word “children” –in Russian—lest there be any confusion about who was hiding there.

 Lord, have mercy.

 It was the renowned theologian Karl Barth who once said we should preach with “the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other.” It’s good advice, not only for preachers but for all who seek to follow in the footsteps of Jesus. The Gospel isn’t Good News unless it has relevance to our lives! But in these last weeks—or maybe I should say in these last years—this proverb has become more and more difficult. We might like to put down one or the other of those documents in our hands: the newspaper, because it delivers such bad news; or the Bible, because its Good News makes it impossible not to respond with action.

 In this morning’s Gospel reading, we hear news reports about two ancient tragic events. First, people came to tell Jesus the news about some Galileans killed by Pilate.  One can almost imagine them saying, in a whisper:“Their blood was mixed with their sacrifices! Can you believe it??”

 It’s not clear why the crowd wanted to tell Jesus this, but they were probably looking for answers. Why did the Galileans suffer like that? Were they sinners? Had they done something wrong? Who was to blame? 

 And as usual when humans ask such things, the question lying just beneath is this: “And how can I make sure such a thing never happens to me, Jesus?”

By way of answering, Jesus didn’t give the crowd a sermon on the sins of the Galileans or any helpful tips for avoiding suffering. Instead, he said to them:

 “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or 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? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

 It might seem odd that Jesus would respond to folks worried about one tragedy by bringing up another one. What does a tower accidentally falling on eighteen Jerusalemites have to do with Pilate murdering some Galileans?

 But this is exactly the point.

Bad things don’t happen to good people, or to bad people—bad things simply happen.

 Suffering is suffering. Sin is sin. All have fallen short of the grace of God, which means all are in need of an equal amount of mercy and forgiveness. And of course death comes to all of us one day, in equal measure.

 “So…quit pointing fingers at their supposed sins” Jesus seems to be saying, “and worry about your own. This isn’t about them. It’s about you. It’s about what you’re going to do now.”

 There’s an urgency in Jesus’ voice, isn’t there? Jesus seems frustrated that even after all his teaching, and healing, and miracles, people are still more worried about the sins of others than with their own lives and actions. But not much has changed, has it? 

 When terrible things happen, we love to somehow justify things. We love to point fingers. We love to place blame for suffering. If a tower in Jerusalem fell today, half the city would blame the Occupation, and the other half would blame the Palestinians, and American Christians would shrug and say “Well, you know towers are going to keep falling in the Middle East until Jesus comes back…”

 This weekend I watched a heart-rending movie called “Mass”, in which the parents of a teenager killed in a mass school shooting confront the parents of the teenager who committed that shooting. I was struck by the way in which they all wanted answers: Why did this happen? Could it have been prevented? Was it about the guns, or about the parenting, or about video games, or about genetics? Who is to blame?

 It was interesting to me that the entire movie took place in one room, the basement of an Episcopal church. There was a large wooden cross hanging on the wall above the four parents as they talked and cried and grieved and blamed one another. And although the words were not said, I could almost hear Jesus saying: Don’t worry about who is to blame. What are you going to do now? Now is the time to make a change. Now is the time for us all to turn toward love, toward justice, toward the cross. Now is the time for us all to repent.

 Dear people, every day is a day to turn toward the God of love—not only during Lent, not only the day after a tragic event, and not only during wartime. For our own sake, for the sake of others, and for the sake of the Gospel of Love, now is the time to make a change.

As our brother Martin Luther once wrote: “How soon not now becomes never.”

 I know, this is a tough word. I can tell you that preachers like to talk about repentance about as much as you like to hear about it (which is not a lot.)

 But thanks be to God, after driving home our common need for repentance—not tomorrow, but now, for we never know what tomorrow will bring—Jesus tells the people this parable:

 A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So 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?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’ ”

 Now whenever I’m reading parables, I find it helpful to ask, “where do I find myself in this story?”

I suppose I might be the fig tree, which isn’t bearing fruit but is taking up space where other, better producing plants might grow. This is most certainly true!

 But I also could be the landowner, eagerly pointing my finger (and swinging my axe) at those around me who I think are not bearing fruit (or who are growing fruit I don’t care for.)

It’s also entirely possible I’m the manure in this story, as there are days when I just really stink. Amen!

Whoever I am in this parable—wherever the hearer is supposed to find herself—it seems clear to me that we can see Christ in the gardener. 

When the gardener replies to the landowner,

  ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year…” I hear Jesus offering a word of grace to the crowd who has just heard the message “Unless you repent, you will die.”

 Because Jesus says:

 “Yes, now is the time to repent. Now is the time to make a change. Now is always the time to bear fruit!

 And…be not afraid.

 Be not afraid, because God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

Be not afraid, for I am with you, even in the mess.

Be not afraid, for although you may feel useless or barren,

Though you may worry there’s no way to turn things around now,

Though others may be saying it’s too late—

Too late for you,

Too late for the world,

Too late for peace based on justice in Israel and Palestine,

Too late for new gun laws,

Too late for Ukraine,

Too late for change,

Too late for repentance,

Too late to bear fruit…

 I, the Son of God, your brother and faithful friend, am here to say:

Listen.

Listen!

I’ve got a shovel,

And some manure,

And I’m not giving up—on you, or the world.

 Friends, Jesus, our gentle gardener, not only graciously gives barren trees more time and sinners second chances,

He gives his own life for the sake of our broken world.

 We hesitate to repent, to change, to turn toward life and love, but Jesus turns his face toward Jerusalem, and towards the cross, that we may all know eternal life with him. Thanks be to God!

 Several years ago, I moved to a new house here in Jerusalem. To tell you the truth, I was very grumpy about moving. I had lived in my former apartment for 3.5 years and would have preferred to have stayed there. To make things worse, I needed to move in December, which is truly a terrible time for a pastor to move house!

 The packing day took much longer than planned, and although I didn’t have to lift any boxes myself, I was still exhausted by the time the last box was placed on the truck. I decided to do one last pass through the apartment to be sure nothing was left behind.

 Just as I was preparing to lock the door behind me, my mover, Wael, pointed to a large clay pot on the balcony. “Don’t you want to take this?” he asked.

 I took a look at the pot with its brown and dried up plant out there in the December cold, its branches twisted tightly around the balcony railings, and said, “Nah. Just leave it. It looks dead—plus it seems pretty attached to this place. I don’t think it would survive the move.”

 But Wael knelt down and carefully, one by one, unwrapped the crispy brown branches, liberating the plant from its former home. Then he carried the pot down three flights of stairs and placed it in the passenger seat of the moving truck.

 Wael put the plant in my new garden, where it sat looking dead all winter long. But slowly slowly, shway shway, I thought I saw it starting to perk up. As spring changed to summer last year, its branches started to wrap themselves around my garden fence. And then, by spring, the plant I had so nearly given up on seemed to have made itself at home. It was flowering once again!

 It made the move. It did survive the change.

 And now, as I prepare to move again, this time leaving Jerusalem, that same plant is still alive and thriving. Even now, as we sit here contemplating the fig tree who was given a second chance by Jesus to bear fruit, my once-dead plant is releasing its first springtime blossoms. And when I do leave Jerusalem, I will be delighted to gift it to someone who will continue to have faith in it—and whose faith in God might be renewed by seeing it.

 Dear friends, during this Lenten season I pray you will be reminded that all of us, daily, have the need to repent, to turn away from sin and death and turn toward love and life, to become trees bearing good fruit, fruit that will last.

 And I pray you will be encouraged to know that Jesus, our gentle gardener, never gives up on us. Jesus' story, the world's story, your story, does not end on Good Friday. Every day is a new opportunity to make that change, a day to love, a day to live. As the poet Mary Oliver wrote:

 Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

With your one wild and precious life?

 

May the peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.