Scripture: Luke 13: 1-9 Nigel Bunce
Bad luck and themes of not being judgmental, forgiveness, and having second chances are all present in today’s short Gospel passage
Local disasters
In the first section of the pasage, people told Jesus about some local events. I imagine Jesus saying, “You say that Pilate executed some dissidents and mixed their blood with the animal sacrifices at the Temple? I suppose you think that they must have been extra sinful for God to allow that terrible thing to happen to them.
Or, those people at Siloam who were crushed when the tower fell down? I guess you think that was also a punishment from God?” “No” says Jesus, “those things were just the luck of the draw. The first simply shows that Pilate is cruel and doesn’t respect our Jewish religion. The other was just a mater of poor building construction.”
Bad luck isn’t God’s plan
A few years ago, a tornado destroyed the house of an American friend. But I don’t think she was especially sinful. It was just bad luck. We human beings try to make sense of the world. To find an “explanation” for everything. It’s very unsettling to realize that bad things can happen by chance.
Because that means they could happen to us, too. Some of our so-called ‘explanations’ can make us judgmental. People who are out of work – they must be lazy. People who have no energy because of depression – they don’t try hard enough.
Neither is good luck
We might have the opposite reaction when someone escapes unscathed from disaster – a plane crash or a train wreck. It tempts us to give thanks because, “God must have saved them.”
But that’s terrible theology. Suppose we say God saved someone because they were specially worthy. Did God not think the others were worth saving? That would be rather unfriendly on God’s part. The luck of the draw cuts both ways!
Second chances … and more
The second part of the reading is a parable about second chances. A fig tree didn’t produce any fruit. The owner told his gardener, “Cut it down. It’s wasting space.” The gardener replied, “Let’s give it another chance. I’ll put some manure around it. Maybe it will have fruit next year. If not, I’ll cut it down then.”
A link between the two parts of the reading is that the owner of the tree was judgemental. The gardener gave it a second chance. Almost like our story from the Hebrew Scriptures. Abram and Sarai hadn’t produced children. But God said, “You’ll get another chance.” Maybe God said, “Keep on trying.” I don’t know.
To me, the parable of the fig tree is at the heart of how we Anglicans might understand God. The Calvinist theology of predestination tells us that God, the gardener, has already decided which fig trees are going to be fruitful, and which should be cut down.
The purpose of Confession
However, our Anglican understanding is that God gives us multiple chances. Every week, our liturgy contains a Confession. That’s not because we are incorrigibly sinful. Even though we don’t score a goal every time we have the puck, or hit a home run for every spiritual at-bat.
I see absolution, forgiveness of our sins, as God’s way of putting a bit of manure around our fig tree. Then, saying, “Maybe next week you’ll do better.” In this view, Confession and Absolution encourage us. Not make us feel like horrible sinners.
However, there is a condition. We have to be sincere. To repent. Turn our lives around. The old prayer book put it this way. “Ye that do truly and earnestly repent you of your sins, and are in love and charity with your neighbours and intend to lead a new life …”
In the modern idiom, “we are truly sorry and we humbly repent …” Nevertheless, I doubt that Vladimir Putin is truly sorry or humbly repents for his invasion of Ukraine. Does that make him forever unforgivable? I cannot tell. It’s way above my pay grade, I’m glad to say.
Yet, despite the encouraging message from the parable of the fig tree, Scripture does not promise us that everything will always be OK. The tower of Siloam may fall on us, even if it is not our fault. Our house may still be destroyed in that tornado. There’s still bad luck.
Dark night of the soul
Tornados can invade our spiritual life as easily as our physical life. The writer of Psalm 63 was having a dry spell in [his] relationship with God. It was a desert or wilderness experience. “My God, I seek you. You are my God. I search for you. But I’m in a desert land where there is no water.”
This time the metaphor is water – like manure, water is needed for fig trees and other life to grow. I can’t believe that there is anyone here today who, despite professing to follow Jesus, has not had one of these dry spells – when our faith life seems stale, or when God seems to be far away or even irrelevant.
The 16th century Spanish mystic we call John of the Cross coined the expression “dark night of the soul.” It describes the loneliness and desolation we feel when prayer is unrewarding or even impossible.
Trying to keep faith when times are bad
However, like John of the Cross, the writer of Psalm 63 did not lose his faith in God. Towards the end of the psalm,[he] wrote, “My lips will praise you. I will bless your name as long as I live.” I hope and pray that we will find the psalmist’s solace when we experience our own dark night of the soul.
In Jesus’ parable, the fig tree is given manure, and lives on for another season. As I read the story, I couldn’t help hoping that the fig tree will have a good crop next year, and be saved from being cut down. Maybe it’s luck will change.
Therefore, I’ll finish by saying that you may conclude that this parable about manure will help our parish become more fruitful. Perhaps. I wonder what form that manure will take. However, many things in life are just matters of luck! Amen.