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March 14, 2004
Third Sunday in Lent
One More Year
Luke 13:6-9
This past week, I learned of two horrendous tragedies.
In Millington, Tennessee, a few miles north of my hometown, seven teenagers were killed in a car driven by a boy who had just gotten his license, taken the parents car out in the middle of the night, and invited six of his friends, all of whom snuck out of their houses without their parents' knowledge.
In Madrid, Spain, as we all know, 200 people lost their lives to terrorist attack while riding the train to work, to shop, to school.
These events have an eerie similarity to two events that apparently[1] happened over 2000 years ago and were laid at the feet of Jesus in our passage for today.
The Tower of Siloam fell on and killed eighteen people in Jerusalem, who happened to be standing beneath it at the time it collapsed.
The Roman governor Pilate ordered henchmen into a house of worship where Galileans offered sacrifices to God, and, according to the reports, the blood of the sacrifices was mixed with the blood of those offering them.
Today as in Biblical times, tragedies come in the form of unintended disasters — like a falling tower or an auto accident — and as a result of human evil — like a ruler killing worshippers or terrorists striking civilians. And today as in Biblical times it is natural for us to speculate about these tragedies.
Why do bad things happen?
Why do bad things happen to good people?
Why to the innocent die, often so young?
At times, Biblical writers imply that God has set up a natural order in which the good prosper and the evil are punished. The writer of Psalm 1, for example, had this worldview.[2] Such a view can lead us to assume that when bad things happen, someone must have done something wrong. Job's friends conclude this.[3]
At other times, Biblical writers imply that the universe is more random, and that whatever order it contains is hidden. Qoheleth, the writer we know in Ecclesiastes, maintains this[4]; as does Jesus, when he says, "The sun rises on the just and the unjust."[5]
To the question "Why do bad things happen to good people?" Biblical answers are strong and clear, but they vary, even conflict, leaving us confused, frustrated, even disengaged.
**
When people approach Jesus and lay at his feet this question —"Were those killed by Pilate worse sinners than other Galileans, and were those on whom the tower fell worse sinners than other Jerusalemites?" — Jesus answers in a way that is both simple and subtle.
"No," Jesus says.[6] "No. Those killed were not worse sinners than others."
One word. Two letters. One syllable.
"No."
Jesus categorically rejects the view that suffering is punishment for sin, that pain is a divine consequence for human misdeed, that suffering and tragedy follow some pre-determined set of divine laws in which the good prosper and the evil suffer.
"No," he says. "No. No. No. No. No."
But then Jesus drops the subject. He doesn't probe the question further. He just drops it and returns to the subject that lies at the heart of the teaching in which, in Luke's Gospel, he is engaged at the time: repentance.
"Unless you repent," he says, "you will all perish just as they did."[7]
When I first realized I had to preach on this passage this week, I dreaded it.
To be sure, Jesus answers the question in the way I want it answered, namely, that suffering and tragedy are not God's punishment for human sin;
But his answer seems insensitive to his questioners at best, even emotionally manipulative at worse.
By saying "Unless you repent you will perish just as they have perished," Jesus seems to use two tragic events to frighten people into faith. He seems to manipulate a tragic occasion for the benefit of his own message.
**
On a lighter note, a friend of mine was part of similar response to tragedy many years ago.
Robert was a Presbyterian minister serving a small church in Birmingham, Alabama. The white Presbyterian congregation he served had a part-time custodian who was black. The custodian had a brother who lived in Los Angeles. The brother was murdered, and the family had the body returned to Birmingham for the funeral. The funeral was held in a small, African American church just outside of town that the family attended.
Robert attended the service. When he arrived, the small church was crammed with people, and as he entered, he became aware he was the only white person present.
The minister of the church, who sat in the chancel, recognized Robert as he entered. The minister extended his index finger, motioned for Robert to come forward. Robert obeyed. The minister said: "Since you are a member of the clergy, sit up here with me." Robert soon found himself seated next to the minister in front of the small but jammed church.
The minister stood up and began the eulogy. He looked down at the open casket, and said:
"Brother Tom here is dead. There is nothing we can do for him, nothing we can do for his soul."
Then the minister looked up and out at the congregation:
"But there is something all of you can do for your own souls. You can repent, believe the good news, and be baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ."
For about twenty minutes, the minister whipped the congregation into frenzy of revival, while the body remained quiet in its casket. People stood. People clapped. People waved their arms in the air. Just at the point that the minister appeared ready to extend an altar call, he stopped mid-sentence, extended his arm in front of him, and said:
"Ladies and gentlemen, I've made a terrible mistake. As you know, I drive a bus for the county school system and my route starts in five minutes. I have to leave. But I'll turn it over to Brother Early here and he can extend the altar call."
I think, twenty years later, Robert is still seated in the chancel chair, frozen, the proverbial "deer in headlights look" across his face.
What the minister did is a tamer, humorous version of what Jesus appears to do: Using a tragedy as an opportunity to call people to repent and turn to God. As funny as this story is, it makes us uncomfortable, whether it is a minister doing it, or Jesus doing it.
**
The only way I can personally resolve Jesus' move from a comforting "No" to a discomforting call for repentance is this: I think Jesus was saying to all who heard him:
You will never be able to resolve
Philosophically or personally
The problem of evil.
Knowing why bad things happen to good people
Is beyond human knowledge,
Whether you wrestle with the question
In a philosophy class
Or next to the grave of someone dear to you.As important as it may seem
Personally or intellectually to resolve this question,
There are more important matters.The more important task is repentance,
Turning the body, mind, and soul
To a trusting relationship with God,
Turning to GodEven when personal and philosophical questions
Seem overwhelming
And tragedy covers us like deep darkness.
**
Jesus then follows this call for repentance with a parable in which the owner of a vineyard wants to cut down a fig tree that has not born fruit for several years only to be dissuaded by a gardener who intervenes:
"Give me a year," the gardener asks,
"Just one more year with this fig tree,
And I can get it to bear
The fruit it was created to bear."[8]
My friends, Jesus Christ comes to us with a resounding "No" to the idea that when we suffer it is because we have sinned.
Christ then calls us to turn and trust God, even when we are vexed by suffering and tragedy.
When we turn, Christ promises divine presence and divine patience, so that we will bear the maximum fruit God has created and redeemed us to bear.
"One more year" —
The gardener says.
"One more year.
That's all the time I need
To nurture the fig into bearing fruit.
I strongly suggest
It is worth our while
To give Christ
That "one more year" year
With us
As well.
Amen.
1 These two events are reported to Jesus in Luke 13:1,4. The incidents are not mentioned anywhere else of record. go back
2 See Psalm 1:1-3 and 1:4-6. go back
3 See the multiple arguments Job's friends make to explain his suffering in Job 2:11-31:40. go back
4 See Ecclesiastes 7:15 and 9:1-12. go back
5 Matthew 5:45. go back
6 Luke 13:3,5. go back
7 Luke 13:3,5. go back
8 Luke 13:6-9. go back
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Phone: 319-364-6148
E-mail: church@fpccr.org
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