Feb. 28, 2016
Isaiah 55:1-9
Luke 13:1-9

I have found a number of really good and inspired quotes that speak thoughtfully about the obvious, but still challenging themes of scripture. I would like to share those quotes along with my thoughts on them.  And, then I’ll add a bit on a theme that none of the commentaries seemed to consider.

I’ll start with Thomas Merton. “So,” he says, “instead of loving what you think is peace, love other men and love God above all.  And instead of hating the people you think are warmakers, hate the appetites and the disorder in your own soul, which are the causes of war.  If you love peace, then hate the injustice, hate the tyranny, hate the greed – but hate these things in yourself, not in another.”[1]

Jesus, in our gospel passage doesn’t deny the horrific nature of the events that Pilot is said to have done. We do not know, of course, if what is said actually happened.  What we know is that it is said in an effort to gain Jesus’ sympathies, to have him join his countrymen and women, not just in their anger, but in their moral superiority and their nationalistic self-righteousness.

Jesus’ response sounds much like Merton’s. He won’t be defined by his enemies.  He won’t let the brokenness of others prop up his own sense of virtue.  And, neither should his followers.  “Don’t let their sins blind you to your own.  If you do, you will perish just as they did.”

There’s something more important than the task of judging one another. Writes Rodney Clapp, “We live in a day… when everyone wants to blame everyone else for the ills of the world.  Christians blame Muslims and Muslims blame Christians.  Fundamentalists blame Hollywood, the ACLU, and homosexuals.  Liberals blame fundamentalists, militarists, and pharmaceutical companies.  Amid the din, Jesus says, ‘Hold on.  Think about a homely old fig tree.  One that has not borne much fruit for a long time.  The farm owner says , ‘Cut that damned tree down.’  His head gardener says, ‘First, let me aerate the soil around it and throw some manure on the poor thing.  After that give the tree one more year, and if it does not produce, chop it down.”

Clapp continues, “So, just when we begin to stir up flattering, heroic, images of ourselves in full battle dress, ready to wipe evil off the face of the earth, Jesus knocks us off our moral high horses. He brings us down to earth and back to ourselves, with talk of fertilizer and a scruffy tree.  He says, ‘Ask yourself if you are like that fig tree.  Are you bearing fruit or just taking up space?’”

Another version of the question, I suppose is this: What kind of tree are you becoming? Are you becoming the kind of tree that can bear fruit, or are you the kind of tree that does nothing and thinks it is doing its job?  The danger in our judgments is that they give us a false sense of self.  When we make too much of them they have a way of convincing us that we aren’t in need, that we aren’t fundamentally dependent, that we don’t need to be rooted in something greater than ourselves to thrive.

In other words, our judgments can very easily lead us to make idols of ourselves. And, for this reason, I believe that our scriptures are well paired today.  Listen again to Isaiah, “Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat!  Come, buy wine and milk without price.  Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does  not satisfy?  Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.  Incline your ear and come to me; listen, so that you may live.”

We so often give ourselves to that which will not love us back. The typical examples are typical for a reason.  There’s money, and standing, and status.  And, there’s achievement and the impressing of our neighbors.  There’s diversion, and entertainment, and the filling of our bellies – none of them necessarily evil, but none of them God either.

And, that’s Isaiah’s point: seek God and not lesser substitutes. God is that living water that will satisfy your thirst.  God is that milk and bread that will feed your hunger.  Seek your satisfaction elsewhere and you’ll dry up like a fruitless tree.  Seek it in false gods and you’ll turn into something that you don’t end up liking very much.

One last quote. This one from Emily Heath in The Christian Century.

“We all want to believe that we have infinite time to start loving the right things, eating that which will satisfy us, and bearing good fruit. But despite the urgency that defines the rest of our lives, scheduling everything from the car pool to the 401(k) contribution, we respond to Christ’s call to transformation by hesitating. There is always tomorrow.”

In Lent, pastors have a unique call to preach with urgency. Our transformation can no longer wait. We have failed to bear good fruit for far too long, choosing instead to focus on those things that will not bring us joy. The good news for both preacher and congregation is that there is great freedom in proclaiming to the people of God that they no longer have to wait to focus on what matters the most. Now is the time to put first things first—no excuses.

This urgency does not come from a fear that God will smite us. I do not believe that God wants to destroy us the way the landowner wants to destroy the dormant fig tree. But I do believe that Jesus speaks with urgency because he knows how quickly most of us are destroying ourselves. And I believe God wants better for us than that.

God wants us to have new life, and this life will begin only when we put our spiritual houses—and our priorities—back in order. Only when we embrace God’s call on our lives will we find that we can once again bear spiritual fruit. That will happen when we start telling one another the hard truth: the clock is ticking, the time is now, and life is too short to waste another minute on what can never love us back.”[2]

I think that last line is the key to the urgency that comes across in the parable. Life is too short to waste it on lesser gods. The urgency is not about punishment. It is about missing out. It is about being less full of life than we might be.

Here’s the part of the sermon for which I have no quote. It occurs to me that a reasonable, and honest, and sincere response to all of this might be, “Look, I am trying. And, I have tried. I’ve come to the well as best I know how. I’ve asked for that milk and I’ve asked for that bread. And faith happens; God happens in moments and ways, but the heavens haven’t parted and if all my hungers are supposed to be satisfied, then I’ve failed; I’ve missed what the ‘saved’ seem to have received, and I don’t know how to get what is apparently being offered.”

If that’s your sincere response, my thought is this: It is time for you to rest. Just as we must rest from our judgments, there is a time to rest from our seeking. There is a time, call it Lent perhaps, to be sought. Free yourself from the burden of whatever it is of God that you think you should have learned or experienced by now. Free yourself from your striving.

This is work in and of itself, but it is a different kind of work. Imagine that the God of Jesus Christ is gushing with joy over you. Dismiss the “yeah but’s.” Think nothing at all. Rest in that joy. That’s all you must do; rest.

That fig tree that we were talking about cannot force itself to grow.

[1] Merton, Essential Writings, page 114.

[2] https://www.christiancentury.org/article/2016-01/february-28-third-sunday-lent