Worth the Worry Sermon on March 7, 2010
A Reading from the gospel of Luke, chapter 13, verses 1-9
At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked 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.”
Then he told 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.’”
Sermon: Worth the Worry
by Rev. Doreen Oughton
So it was another fun week for me puzzling out this scripture. It’s a tricky one, the kind that really stirs my thinking and my theology. It starts with some people telling Jesus about the brutal slaughter by the army of Roman governor Pontius Pilate of some Galileans who were in the temple offering a sacrifice. Based on Jesus’ response, we sense that the question on their minds in this report was, did God let or cause this to happen because they were sinners? Now though I might not phrase it just this way, I certainly understand this question. How could this happen in a sacred place, in a house of God, unless God played a part of it? Wouldn’t God protect worthy people in the sanctuary of his home? I know I’m always shocked when I hear about an act of violence or destruction in a place of worship. There was the point blank shooting last year of Dr. George Tiller in the foyer of his Lutheran church in Kansas, the gang violence that erupted at a church funeral, the seemingly random acts of opening fire at people gathered to sing praise and thanksgiving. How could it be? Why would God allow such a thing, perhaps unless he is displeased about something. I read about the pastor whose church suffered minimal damage in Hurricane Katrina practically gloating to his congregation that the churches of the other denominations in town were devastated, hence God must be affirming that their own church is the true house of God.
Jesus clearly and firmly denies this belief. “Do you think they were worse sinners than any others? No, I tell you!” Now even that answer wouldn’t really comfort the people. They were looking for a way to feel safe. Like the person who is close to someone who develops lung cancer. “Well, she smoked for 30 years. Could never happen to me.” Or like the friend whose teenager is getting in lots of trouble. “There was divorce in that family. Could never happen to my children.” So when the person who has led a healthy lifestyle gets cancer, and the kid from the stable loving home gets in trouble, we feel uncomfortable, unsafe. We want an answer about why these scary things happen, and one that somehow tells us that we are safe.
Then again, it depends on how you see yourself, vulnerability wise. If you carry guilt and worry about being punished, if you quit smoking 10 years ago but still worry about the 25 that you did smoke, if you do have divorce in your family and children entering their teen years, it could be a relief to know there is not a direct connection, that sometimes the “risk factors” don’t mean anything at all.
But either way, Jesus won’t give reassuring answers. He denies that the Galileans are in any way to blame for what happened to them, compares it to an accident in which a tower collapsed and killed 18 people, but then seems to threaten a similar fate if the listeners don’t repent. And then he tells a parable about a fig tree that won’t produce, takes up space and ought to be cut down. So what is going on?
Where I found a message that rang true for me was by going back to the previous chapter in Luke’s gospel. The passage for today is a continuation of a teaching started at the end of chapter 11. He’d just dined with a Pharisee and some lawyers, and criticized them all for their hypocrisies. He leaves the home and a crowd gathers outside while the Pharisees cross examine him. Over the next chapter he alternates between teaching the disciples and speaking to the crowd. One of his first statements is “I tell you, my friends, do not fear those who kill the body, and after that can do nothing more. But I will warn you whom to fear; fear him who, after he has killed, has authority to cast into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him.” And he continues to teach about what to worry about, and what not to worry about. Don’t worry about storing up grain and goods here on earth, but worry about being rich toward God. Don’t worry about what to eat or what you will wear – God provides. But strive for the Kingdom of heaven. Invest your heart in the correct treasure, the treasure of heaven that no moth destroys. Be ready, prepare for divine judgement.
He’s told them he did not come to bring peace, but to bring division – father against son, mother against daughter. He told them to pay attention to the signs, to judge what is right. No, he is not comforting or reassuring at all about how to stay safe in this world, how to be successful in this world, how to make others treat you well and fairly. He’s telling them, you are not safe in this world. You might find yourself struck down by a random accident, like a tower falling on you. You may be a victim of injustice and violence. Those things can happen. And if you stop focusing on the safety of your physical body and the security of worldly goods, you will find yourself at odds with society. When you acknowledge me as the Son of God, you may be taken before the authorities, both religious and governmental. To these, Jesus offers hope and assurance. Don’t worry about what to say. The Spirit will teach you what you need when you need it. Don’t worry that God isn’t paying attention to you. Even the hairs on your head are counted. You are more valuable than the sparrows. This is the stuff that comes before today’s gospel reading. Jesus does not say don’t worry, he says you are worried about the wrong things.
But his listeners aren’t getting it. In the middle of his teaching about acknowledging him before God and he will acknowledge them, someone asks him make his brother share the family inheritance! He assures them that God is eager to give them the Kingdom, it is his good pleasure, but they must be ready for what that means in terms of letting go of earthly concerns. He tells them, don’t worry if your commitment to God brings you in conflict with society, with the temple, with your family. Judge for yourself what is right. And they still don’t get it, revealing their continued worry about mortality, punishment, and their concern with judging one another.
Can you imagine his impatience, his frustration. He keeps trying and trying to tell them what is important. Strive for the kingdom he tells them. Other places in the gospel he tells them that the kingdom is within and among and between them. The kingdom could be realized here and now if only they could see. If only they could stop judging others, if only you could trust God to care for you and stop hoarding and accumulating and manipulating. If only you could see how much bigger God’s world is than your anxious, self-centered concerns. Worry, instead, about creating the kingdom, about living in the kingdom, about being prepared for the kingdom now. He wants to convey a sense of urgency. Time’s a’wastin. You are getting side-tracked, delayed, perhaps so delayed you will miss out completely. You are wasting time and soil in the kingdom. Cut it out. Pay attention. Bear the fruit that God created you to bear. And even in Jesus’ impatience, even in his frustration, he catches himself. Give it a little more time. Let the gardener tend to you more, even if it means having him dig around and spread some “manure” on you. Don’t be afraid of the digging, of the manure. You are being cared for, loved, enabled to bear fruit. You are being made ready for the kingdom. So don’t rest easy. Pay attention. Change direction if you need to. Let go of the things that hold you back from God. Soften yourself for the digging, brace yourself for the manure. And before you know it, you will be in full bloom, grounded in purpose, connected to the source, providing and living in the kin-dom. May it be so.
