20 Mar Sunday, March 20,2022
What does Jesus say right off the bat? The degree to which people suffer is not a mirror. The degree to which people suffer does not distinguish them as better or worse, better or worse off perhaps, but not better people or worse sinners. That’s such a common trap into which Christians fall.
If good fortune or misfortune isn’t an occasion to draw a connection between what God has done and what happens to us what is it? Well, that’s dangerous territory. There’s a fine line between giving God praise for something that works for our benefit and saying in some small way that we deserve it. When we make the claim, “God answered my prayer,” what does that say to people whose prayers aren’t answered or whose loved ones perish?
In the very moment we give thanks for having been spared, we can’t help but be hinting in some way that we have found favor with God. I know this seems confusing when every week pastors bless the congregation by repeating these words from the Bible. “May the Lord bless and keep you, make his face shine upon you, be gracious to you and give you peace.” What’s that if not asking for favor, to be better rather than worse off? Well, let’s see what else Jesus says.
Jesus says that all must repent and implies that none find favor outside of acknowledging that we sin and sin alike. Suffering along the road to perishing is not selective. It is what it is, as they say.
What is our responsibility is acknowledging that we, like everyone else, are in need of repentance, we sin and sin alike. That’s the lenten motto. We sin and sin alike. We were created from dust alike. You shall return to dust again. That’s why the season begins with a reminder that you are every bit as much dust as the next person.
Lent is a time to draw near to God and also to each other, to remove the distinctions we normally make between our own level of godliness and the next person’s. Remove language like better or worse, drop judgments based on appearance, stop making ourselves feel better by pointing out the misfortune of others, placing their behavior below ours, or putting them in a different category.
I couldn’t believe my ears when the pastor of the church where I’d been a member for years, where I’d taught SS and Children’s Church, served as President of the Choir, participated in and led numerous adult, children’s and youth events asked me, me, to stop coming to church. Why? Because I decided to no longer live with my then husband? Believe you me, I pointed out to him that no sin is greater or worse than another. But it didn’t do any good.
Where was his compassion? Why wasn’t he interested in why I left? Didn’t he read the letter board outside my office, that abbreviated quote by Dietrich Bonhoeffer? “We must learn to regard a person less in light of what they do or don’t do and more in light of what they suffer.” All I could think of that day was how his decision made me suffer.
I would say that both he and Pilate behaved cruelly. Seems like the people who made the movie Jesus of Nazareth never read that verse about Pilate, about him mingling the blood of Galileans with temple sacrifices or they may have portrayed his role differently.
In the movie, Pilate is cast as a typically appointed person of leadership, a person given authority in official capacity, as pastors are, who are able to wash their hands of blood or distance themselves from controversy. Just as I’m about to call them the worst, Bonhoffer reminds me that, “Nothing we despise in other people is inherently absent from ourselves.” Ugh. No better or worse, huh? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish alike.
Then Jesus told a parable, a parable like all others, without one meaning or any obvious meaning. Parables are made-up stories where things relatable try to explain the unexplainable. Parables are kind of like cootie-catchers. You know, those folded pieces of paper you made to entertain you and your friends?
Depending what combination of colors and numbers are chosen, you choose your fate. Depending on your decisions, you arrive at a different conclusion. For me, it was fun to play over and over again. You couldn’t guess what people would pick. Outcomes were as much a surprise to me as them. In the parable, which character would you choose as yourself?
Are you the man or woman who owns a vineyard, pays to have trees planted and cared for with one goal, to produce fruit? I mean, the expectation is not unreasonable. Armstrong and Broad Mountain wish to be known as wineries, not just vineyards, right? They’re not in the business of growing vines, but grapes to make wine. Or are you the gardener whose job it is to tend the soil, grow and nurture the vines so they stay alive and produce fruit? Or are you a fig tree without figs?
While visiting my Aunt Elizabeth, I admired two small potted trees with shiny leaves she had growing indoors. Aunt Elizabeth informed me that one was a lemon tree and the other an orange. She’d grown both from seed. Really? Well, I’d been to Florida and I loved oranges, so when she invited me to take the two trees home, I jumped at the chance. Every day, I envisioned the sight of a blossom, then a juicy lemon or orange starting to form. She informed me that the tree producing fruit was not a sure thing. But the idea sure was nice.
In the parable, which character is God? The owner of the vineyard or the gardener? It’s easy to cast God as judge, the one saying, you’d better produce. Bear fruit in due time, or else. Don’t you waste my investment. Meet expectations or be cut down. But what if Jesus tells the parable to show God is actually the gardener, the one who quells a rush to judgment? The one who is willing to keep investing time and effort whether the end goal becomes realized or not.
You see, growing lemons and oranges from seed is possible, but by no means guaranteed. In order for them to grow best they must be grafted from the parent tree, the one who produced the fruit to start with. Lemons and oranges model the type of propagation method God uses. We were made from soil, a material of God’s choosing.
In the parable, God is cast as vineyard owner, gardener, soil, fertilizer, spade and tree perfectly able to bear fruit. The funny thing about my aunt’s trees was, I never knew if they bore fruit. A thief stole them off my front stoop in a nice suburb. I wondered if they stole them for the nice shiny leaves or the thought of citrus fruits? Perhaps I was lucky to be disappointed sooner by their disappearance than later when they never produced fruit.
When Jesus told the parable, was he implying that God has expectations and may be growing impatient? But, why would he contradict what he’d just said…that all will perish if they don’t repent, not just the ones who perform worse than others. If sinning is a given, the sin can’t be failing to produce fruit.
What makes sense is that failure is equal to not responding to being treated well or shown mercy. Not turning from our own goals to God’s, from worse to better. Failure is not rewarding another person’s extra care and investment, additional time, effort, or attempts to amend our surrounding conditions.
Jesus modeled good treatment, mercy shown, and consideration of God’s intentions. Jesus invested more time, put forth more effort and amended conditions in which life could not produce fruit. Were God in the business of simply growing fruit or producing other commodities, we might well be concerned.
But, I think God is like my Aunt Elizabeth: in the business of not tossing away seeds with potential, of truly appreciating how something can grow as a result of being given a chance, of being satisfied with shiny leaves that produce a distinctive citrus smell.
While it’s true that God doesn’t like waste and doesn’t let anything go to waste. It’s also true that judgment never comes as a surprise. There are always warnings and intervention. The Bible recounts this fact over and over again. So, with regard to this parable, what if there’s nothing negative or judgmental about it at all? What if one point Jesus tries to make is this?
“Fig trees make good loincloths, but that’s not the reason I made them. Their fruit tastes marvelous. When you dry a fig, it turns extra sweet. The seeds and filling are great for cookies. In a similar way, Aunt Elizabeth’s miniature potted trees with the shiny leaves were pretty and smelled nice. But, I’d hate for you to go through life without ever tasting juicy citrus fruit.”
In the parable, God proves that people, like fig trees, can be worked on. By applying simple remedies over time, from both top and bottom, whatever is invested won’t be wasted. All efforts will inspire hope and lead to something better. The fig tree may also stand for life: an opportunity too good to waste, too good to leave to chance, too wonderful to let go on year after year without more to enjoy from it. That’s it, what God desires: to see each created thing and being live and develop to the fullest measure. Let us pray.
Lord, I guess a fig tree without figs would be called something else. Thank you for making us capable of producing fruit, because you, our parent tree, have grafted yourself onto us with the goal of making the most out of life and enjoying its greatest potential. Help us contribute to the growth and well being of seedlings, bulbs, roots and saplings designed by you to thrive and shine. IYHNWP, Amen.