Thirst and Life, Part 3

This, the posts before it, and one that follows are from a sermon I delivered at Bethesda UMC, based on Isaiah 55:1-9 and Luke 13:1-9.

The gospel reading for today is from Luke 13:1-9.  The very first line says, “At that very time there were some present who told him…”  People were coming to Jesus and telling him news or rumors out of Jerusalem.  They told about Galileans who Pilate ordered to be killed while they were in the temple worshipping God with their sacrifices.  

When you hear this scripture, did you wonder, “Why did they tell Jesus this story?”

Did they just want to make sure he was well informed? Or could it be that they hoped he would take a political stand?  Maybe they were zealots who hoped Jesus would support their revolutionary agenda against Rome.  Maybe they were looking at someone else, assuming the other person had sinned, and they were hoping Jesus could tell them what those people had done to deserve such a fate, so that they themselves could feel safer. 

Sometimes seeing someone else’s sin makes us forget our own.

But Jesus won’t get involved in the political debate.  He won’t point fingers at Rome or at Pilate.  And he didn’t accuse the other people – the ones who had died, or the ones who had killed them, of sin.  Instead, he says, “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.”

They are looking in the wrong direction.  They are looking away from themselves.  And Jesus says, “You are the ones who needs to repent.”  

And then he tells them the rest of the story.  He tells them a parable about a fig tree that isn’t producing figs.  A man had planted a fig tree three years ago.  It has not been fruitful, so the man tells the gardener to cut it down.  Everyone listening to the story would have understood the man’s request – three years is long enough to wait for the fig tree to bear fruit.  But the gardener convinces the owner to give the tree one more year.  The gardener is going to nurture the tree, put manure on it, give it one more chance.  

But what stops us from recognizing our own sin, our own thirst, and our need of God’s grace? One commentator I read said the clue may be in the treatment the gardener suggests for the fig tree – he plans to dig around it and put manure on it.  The commentator suggests that we should read “manure” as humility – there is nothing much more humble than manure, is there?

When Josh was in elementary school, he brought his class picture home.  The picture showed him with his arm bent, posed for the camera.  He insisted that his arm hadn’t been held like that when they took the picture.  If you asked him today – at 25 years old – he would still insist that his arm had been held different – all evidence to the contrary.  

We are proud.  We can be arrogant.  We certainly don’t want to be wrong.  We all, I think, close our minds even to what God might be trying to tell us.  

We love to tell the latest gossip, share the Facebook post that we agree with, even while not seeing if it is true. We insist we are right, because anything else would require humility.

But there is more to the story.