I think that our problem, sometimes, is our wanting to find easy answers to our hard questions. We don’t care much for ambiguity, and neither did Jesus’ early followers. So when the news came to them about a disaster that befell some Galileans, they looked for answers in the wrong places.
In September 2001, Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell sat in front of a TV camera, musing together about why they thought the towers fell and nearly 3,000 people died. They seemed to like the theory that it was the feminists, pagans, and civil libertarians – in other words, people not like them – who were at fault, because they made God mad at America.
The temptation of being able to say those people had it coming is a strong one. Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell didn’t invent this; it’s an old, old way of thinking. Because it is so much easier to believe that those people met a bad fate because of their particular sins, which are not my particular sins. And if I look out at the world this way, I just might be able to avoid even thinking about my own particular sins.
But Jesus isn’t having any of that. “Do you think that this shows they were worse than you? Do you think those who were killed in that tower of Siloam disaster were somehow worse than you? Do you think that you can escape judgment as easily as you have managed to avoid examining your own sins?
This is a special kind of sin, in itself: this practice of always looking at someone else’s faults to be able to escape looking at your own faults. But it is a sin that we all share to some degree. Because it is just so much easier to see someone else’s flaws than it is to see our own.
If Jesus had done nothing more than say to them, “Oh, you think you’re better than them, do you?” then he may as well have said nothing at all. What good does it do? But, he is wise enough to offer them a parable.
There was a man who had a fig tree planted in his vineyard. He would go out and look at this tree as it grew, year after year, expecting to find fruit. After all, that’s what he had planted it for. He was very anxious to get fruit from this tree. But after three years, he lost patience. And he said to his gardener, “just cut it down and plant something else. This fig tree is no good to me, for it has borne no fruit.”
The problem, though – and it’s a problem his listeners would have understood – is that it’s still too soon. While three years seems like a long time to us, it isn’t enough time for the tree to bear fruit. Perhaps this man doesn’t know this. But perhaps he does know it; it’s just that he doesn’t like it. The gardener doesn’t try to figure that out; he just makes his appeal.
It would be wasteful, after all, to cut down this fig tree now. For three years he has tended it, nurtured it. There is still every reason to hope there will be fruit – in due time. Have patience, the gardener urges. Wait.
It is a little bit distressing to think that the man would destroy a perfectly healthy tree because he doesn’t agree that it should take more than three years for it to bear fruit. It is distressing to think of how such a man might treat other living creatures in his orbit – his wife and children, his servants. Would he toss them out, as well, if he loses patience with them? Anyone who plants a tree knows very well that it takes time to grow and produce. I don’t think he forgot that. Yet he seems to want to condemn the tree for failing to do what is impossible for it to do. A harsh man.
It is his tree, so he is within his rights to destroy it. But still – why?
Maybe this suspense of not knowing is just making him too uncomfortable; the suspense hangs in the air: Will this tree bear fruit? If so, when? He can’t handle this stress. He’s a decisive man and he just wants to know so he can decide if this is a good tree or a bad tree.
Just the same way, we want to know why certain things happen, because we can’t bear the ambiguity of it all. Did these Galileans die a horrible death because they were bad Galileans? Were those Judeans crushed by the tower of Siloam because they were bad Judeans? Did those Americans who were killed on 9/11 die because they were bad Americans?
And the answer is: No worse than you. No worse than you. No worse than you.
You might say those Galileans, those Judeans, they didn’t deserve to die. But you could just as easily say we all, every one of us, deserves to die. As we say on Ash Wednesday, “remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” We are reminded that we are here for a finite period of time, and what we do with that time matters.
Jesus, who is at that very moment on his way to Jerusalem, feels the urgency of this! We don’t actually have all the time in the world to get on with those things that really matter. Perhaps for us, during the season of Lent, we might become more mindful of this. There is, indeed, some urgency.
Yet, God’s patience is great; God’s forgiveness is great, and it is this tender patience and forgiveness that encourage us to open our hearts and turn our faces toward God. Just as the gardener’s wise and compassionate hands might coax the fig tree into producing fruit, if only given another year to do it.
When is the right time for repentance, for turning away from sin and turning toward God? Now is the right time, but if not now then the next day or the next. In God’s time. In the Presbyterian Church we sometimes are asked about when is the right time for baptism. And the answer we like to give is that it should be done at the appropriate time, with neither undue haste nor undue delay. Of course, the harder part sometimes is figuring out if you are acting in haste or making excuses in order to delay.
The thing for us to remember is that God is always ready for us. With God, it is always the season of second chances. The history of Israel we read in the Bible tells us again and again that no matter how many times the people have turned away, God is still there, abundantly generous. Giving water to those who thirst, bread to those who hunger. You don’t need to buy it, you don’t have to earn it. Come, everyone, to the waters. Now is the time.
Now is the time to turn and come to the Lord. Always. Now is the time.
