Free Access
Sermon
Living Vertically
Gospel Sermons For Lent/Easter Cycle C
I know that they didn't have CNN or iPods back in Jesus' day, but if they had, they would have been listening to the World Report in today's Gospel Lesson. The topic is current events and things surely haven't changed much in 2,000 years because the headline stories are bad news: the imperial troops senselessly murder a few peasants; a tower collapses and kills eighteen. "What do you think about that?" Jesus asks. "Do you think that those poor folks who ended up dead were worse sinners than everybody else?" There is an uneasy silence. "No," he answers his own rhetorical question. "No, I tell you, but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."
How about those Iraqis who were incinerated in the air-raid shelter in Baghdad on Ash Wednesday a few years ago -- were they worse sinners than all the other Iraqis? And the Azerbaidzhanis or Croats or Kenyans who are caught in the crossfire of civil war -- are they worse sinners than those who live in countries that are at peace this week? And the victims of AIDS, dying lonely, painful deaths -- because they are suffering in this way, does that mean that they are worse sinners than all the rest of us? There are certainly people who feel that way -- or at least act that way. "No, I tell you," says Jesus, "but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."
What an astounding response! Wouldn't you expect Jesus to condemn the brutality of the oppressors? After all, those Galileans that Pilate slaughtered were Jesus' countrymen, and such cruelty was not unusual for Pilate: he had slaughtered some Samaritans as they worshiped at their temple on Mount Gerezim; another time, he had several Jews killed because of their opposition to his taking offerings left at the Jerusalem temple. Surely such tyranny demands an outcry of protest, perhaps a call for revolutionary counterviolence -- or, at the very least, appeals for U.N. economic sanctions.
My brother, the attorney, would sarcastically say that the story about the tower collapsing is the kind of thing lawyers like to hear: no doubt the builders should be brought to court for unsafe construction practices; or maybe there was a building inspector on the take. But Jesus tells us that such tragic events, some caused willfully, others unfortunate accidents, should be occasions not for judgment or for speculation, but for repentance: "Unless you repent," Jesus says, " you will all perish as they did." What does that mean?
One of the constant problems in trying to capture the bombshell quality of much of Jesus' teaching is that the biblical images and language have become domesticated, or taken on such stuffy "religious" overtones that they lose their power. The central point of all Jesus' teaching is that each of us must experience metanoia, generally translated by the religious-sounding English words "repentance" or "conversion." This common Greek word metanoia literally meant "to change one's mind" but in everyday use had come to mean "to turn around and change direction." It is the word you would use if you were traveling down the road and remembered you had left something at home -- you would turn around and go a different way. Mark begins his story of Jesus by telling us, "Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, 'The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news' (Mark 1:14b-15). If we are to discover the good news that Jesus has for us, in other words, if we are to become participants in God's reign and God's good will for the world, we need to begin to see things from a totally different perspective, we need to come at everyday events in a new and different and exciting way.
And one of the first things we need to change is our tendency to imagine that we can judge from appearances: to think that if someone suffers, "They had it coming to them," and that if they prosper, "God is blessing them." Because this is such a natural inclination, the Scriptures are full of warnings against. it. My personal favorite is the classic statement in Ecclesiastes: "... the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to the skillful; but time and chance happen to them all" (9:11).
Jesus made the same point in the Sermon on the Mount: "But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous" (Matthew 5:44-45).
In spite of such warnings, we make superficial judgments all the time, just as much as those to whom Jesus was speaking in Luke 13. How else could we fight wars or sponsor terrorism, if we didn't believe deep down this year's enemies "have it coming to them"? One of the justifications for colonialism, foreign domination, and economic exploitation is that we look at countries or regions which are "underdeveloped" and assume that the underdevelopment is because of shortcomings -- the "sinfulness" if you will -- of the local people: they must be "undevelopable." And so, given this state of affairs, we have every right to go in and show these local yokels how to do things correctly and, while we are at it, to take the best resources for ourselves.
If you go into a florist shop virtually anywhere in the U.S. this week and buy a bunch of fresh cut flowers, especially roses, the odds are very good that they will have been grown in Zimbabwe, a half globe away. This beautiful and mountainous country is now the world's second largest producer of fresh cut flowers after Holland. What a glorious sight to stand, as I have, and look at Zimbabwean valleys stretching as far as the eye can see filled with flowers, cultivated for the world market. How fascinating it is to think of how these vast carpets of color will soon be loaded aboard refrigerated jumbo jets and on their way to Cologne, Paris, London, Chicago. The less beautiful thought is that much of the traditional farm land on which these flower farms have been developed is now owned by multinational corporations which employ the local persons not as farmers, but as minimally paid workers.
Perhaps you've read in the papers about food shortages in Southern Africa. The articles tell how Zimbabwe, always an exporter of food, is now having to import staples, putting a strain on its economy. President Mugabe has cited the current drought, which is certainly one factor. But another factor has been the conversion of farmland which traditionally provided food and locally controlled cash crops to the cultivation of flowers, a commodity whose price is wholly controlled by foreign interests. So if in the coming months you see pictures of Zimbabweans going hungry, or hear of unrest in that country due to food shortages or a bad economy, does that mean that these people are worse sinners than other people, worse sinners than us? "Of course not," Jesus says, "but unless you repent...."
And now Jesus brings us to the painful part of metanoia, of seeing things from God's point of view. It is cheap and easy to criticize others, to make presumptions about them based on circumstance. It is desperately painful to look at ourselves. What part do I play in economic systems that exploit other people? How do I perpetuate attitudes that demean others? How have I contributed to the pain or suffering or downfall of another person -- a friend, a fellow student, an unnamed homeless person I have never met, a farmer half-way around the world?
So stories about the misfortune of others are not cause for us to gloat or to assume they brought these things on themselves. Neither are they neutral stories that we can shrug off as we switch from CNN to ESPN. They are wake-up calls to each of us to examine our hearts, our relationship with God, and our involvement with other people. Do we lift others up, or just ignore them, or actually pull other people down?
Jesus continued with the familiar parable of the barren fig tree -- one that recurs in various forms throughout Scripture. "You will know them by their fruits," Jesus used to say about individuals as well as groups of people. So you don't have to be a literature major to understand what this parable is about. The fig tree has not produced fruit, so it might as well be cut down. But the gardner wants to give it one more chance: a little more cultivation, a little more mulch, a little more time. And if there is no fruit next year....
And so it is for all of us. We are being given care and nurture and time. Jesus Christ, God's gardnener, is offering us every opportunity for metanoia, to begin to see the world from God's point of view. When we hear the news, when we read of the misfortunes of others, we must not fall into the trap of thinking that we are somehow fundamentally different from them, but must realize that we are fundamentally the same. "Unless you repent," Jesus says.
During the season of Lent, when we pay special attention to the process of nurturing our spirits and cultivating our Christian life, the parable of the fig tree has a special, positive meaning, with its promise for the future. But this gospel text as a whole is a sobering warning against complacency and self-righteousness. It is a call to serious self-examination and being open to the life-transforming power of God, so that we begin to see other people and the whole world not from our own narrow perspective, but from God's point of view.
How about those Iraqis who were incinerated in the air-raid shelter in Baghdad on Ash Wednesday a few years ago -- were they worse sinners than all the other Iraqis? And the Azerbaidzhanis or Croats or Kenyans who are caught in the crossfire of civil war -- are they worse sinners than those who live in countries that are at peace this week? And the victims of AIDS, dying lonely, painful deaths -- because they are suffering in this way, does that mean that they are worse sinners than all the rest of us? There are certainly people who feel that way -- or at least act that way. "No, I tell you," says Jesus, "but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."
What an astounding response! Wouldn't you expect Jesus to condemn the brutality of the oppressors? After all, those Galileans that Pilate slaughtered were Jesus' countrymen, and such cruelty was not unusual for Pilate: he had slaughtered some Samaritans as they worshiped at their temple on Mount Gerezim; another time, he had several Jews killed because of their opposition to his taking offerings left at the Jerusalem temple. Surely such tyranny demands an outcry of protest, perhaps a call for revolutionary counterviolence -- or, at the very least, appeals for U.N. economic sanctions.
My brother, the attorney, would sarcastically say that the story about the tower collapsing is the kind of thing lawyers like to hear: no doubt the builders should be brought to court for unsafe construction practices; or maybe there was a building inspector on the take. But Jesus tells us that such tragic events, some caused willfully, others unfortunate accidents, should be occasions not for judgment or for speculation, but for repentance: "Unless you repent," Jesus says, " you will all perish as they did." What does that mean?
One of the constant problems in trying to capture the bombshell quality of much of Jesus' teaching is that the biblical images and language have become domesticated, or taken on such stuffy "religious" overtones that they lose their power. The central point of all Jesus' teaching is that each of us must experience metanoia, generally translated by the religious-sounding English words "repentance" or "conversion." This common Greek word metanoia literally meant "to change one's mind" but in everyday use had come to mean "to turn around and change direction." It is the word you would use if you were traveling down the road and remembered you had left something at home -- you would turn around and go a different way. Mark begins his story of Jesus by telling us, "Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, 'The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news' (Mark 1:14b-15). If we are to discover the good news that Jesus has for us, in other words, if we are to become participants in God's reign and God's good will for the world, we need to begin to see things from a totally different perspective, we need to come at everyday events in a new and different and exciting way.
And one of the first things we need to change is our tendency to imagine that we can judge from appearances: to think that if someone suffers, "They had it coming to them," and that if they prosper, "God is blessing them." Because this is such a natural inclination, the Scriptures are full of warnings against. it. My personal favorite is the classic statement in Ecclesiastes: "... the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to the skillful; but time and chance happen to them all" (9:11).
Jesus made the same point in the Sermon on the Mount: "But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous" (Matthew 5:44-45).
In spite of such warnings, we make superficial judgments all the time, just as much as those to whom Jesus was speaking in Luke 13. How else could we fight wars or sponsor terrorism, if we didn't believe deep down this year's enemies "have it coming to them"? One of the justifications for colonialism, foreign domination, and economic exploitation is that we look at countries or regions which are "underdeveloped" and assume that the underdevelopment is because of shortcomings -- the "sinfulness" if you will -- of the local people: they must be "undevelopable." And so, given this state of affairs, we have every right to go in and show these local yokels how to do things correctly and, while we are at it, to take the best resources for ourselves.
If you go into a florist shop virtually anywhere in the U.S. this week and buy a bunch of fresh cut flowers, especially roses, the odds are very good that they will have been grown in Zimbabwe, a half globe away. This beautiful and mountainous country is now the world's second largest producer of fresh cut flowers after Holland. What a glorious sight to stand, as I have, and look at Zimbabwean valleys stretching as far as the eye can see filled with flowers, cultivated for the world market. How fascinating it is to think of how these vast carpets of color will soon be loaded aboard refrigerated jumbo jets and on their way to Cologne, Paris, London, Chicago. The less beautiful thought is that much of the traditional farm land on which these flower farms have been developed is now owned by multinational corporations which employ the local persons not as farmers, but as minimally paid workers.
Perhaps you've read in the papers about food shortages in Southern Africa. The articles tell how Zimbabwe, always an exporter of food, is now having to import staples, putting a strain on its economy. President Mugabe has cited the current drought, which is certainly one factor. But another factor has been the conversion of farmland which traditionally provided food and locally controlled cash crops to the cultivation of flowers, a commodity whose price is wholly controlled by foreign interests. So if in the coming months you see pictures of Zimbabweans going hungry, or hear of unrest in that country due to food shortages or a bad economy, does that mean that these people are worse sinners than other people, worse sinners than us? "Of course not," Jesus says, "but unless you repent...."
And now Jesus brings us to the painful part of metanoia, of seeing things from God's point of view. It is cheap and easy to criticize others, to make presumptions about them based on circumstance. It is desperately painful to look at ourselves. What part do I play in economic systems that exploit other people? How do I perpetuate attitudes that demean others? How have I contributed to the pain or suffering or downfall of another person -- a friend, a fellow student, an unnamed homeless person I have never met, a farmer half-way around the world?
So stories about the misfortune of others are not cause for us to gloat or to assume they brought these things on themselves. Neither are they neutral stories that we can shrug off as we switch from CNN to ESPN. They are wake-up calls to each of us to examine our hearts, our relationship with God, and our involvement with other people. Do we lift others up, or just ignore them, or actually pull other people down?
Jesus continued with the familiar parable of the barren fig tree -- one that recurs in various forms throughout Scripture. "You will know them by their fruits," Jesus used to say about individuals as well as groups of people. So you don't have to be a literature major to understand what this parable is about. The fig tree has not produced fruit, so it might as well be cut down. But the gardner wants to give it one more chance: a little more cultivation, a little more mulch, a little more time. And if there is no fruit next year....
And so it is for all of us. We are being given care and nurture and time. Jesus Christ, God's gardnener, is offering us every opportunity for metanoia, to begin to see the world from God's point of view. When we hear the news, when we read of the misfortunes of others, we must not fall into the trap of thinking that we are somehow fundamentally different from them, but must realize that we are fundamentally the same. "Unless you repent," Jesus says.
During the season of Lent, when we pay special attention to the process of nurturing our spirits and cultivating our Christian life, the parable of the fig tree has a special, positive meaning, with its promise for the future. But this gospel text as a whole is a sobering warning against complacency and self-righteousness. It is a call to serious self-examination and being open to the life-transforming power of God, so that we begin to see other people and the whole world not from our own narrow perspective, but from God's point of view.
