March 7, 2010
Third Sunday in Lent
Scripture Lesson: Luke 13:1-9
Getting God's Work Done
in the World
"At that very time there were some present who told him
about the Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices.
(Luke 13:1)
Prelude
The title for today's meditation
comes from an address delivered in 1956 by
the Rev. James E. Wagner,
President of the Evangelical & Reformed Church,
speaking to the General Council
of the Congregational-Christian Church.
Our UCC came about after a lengthy courtship.
It was some years in the making.
Having been given the privilege to preach,
before the deal was sealed,
the Rev. Wagner advocated union,
advance, to not hold back upon what so many wanted,
and what some resisted.
Before there was a UCC, the Rev. Wagner was
preaching about the "imperatives of love of justice."
Before there was a UCC, there was acknowledgment,
an assessment that time for a people of faith is filled
with options consisting of "easy wrongs and hard rights."
In his address to the General Council, the Rev. Wagner
offered this astute counsel:
"The real worth and validity of this union in the
sight of God will eventually be measured by how
profoundly and with what deepening devotion we
set about getting God's work done in the world."
(see UCC @ 50, p. 4)
Getting God's work done in the world.
This is a mark of faith, a long-standing
concern and commitment we have embraced
as God's people.
If faith be tested for sincerity and measured for authenticity,
we subscribe neither to profession of creed nor to owning of covenant,
but rather to the open mind and melted heart
fully set upon getting God's work done in the world.
When Jesus taught disciples to pray:
thy kingdom come, thy will be done;
when Jesus said, do for others what I have done for you;
when Jesus prayed, not my will, but thy will be done,
he was writing the script and setting the stage for the church to perform.
Our play? Getting God's work done in the world.
***** ***** *****
Our lesson from Luke this morning
intersects with the theme of
getting God's work done in the world.
The lesson
(a) admits complexity and a heightened degree
of difficulty of such work;
(b) includes a discipline to deal
with the difficulty; and finally,
(c) within the parable portion, suggests a role playing activity to us.
Let's work through each of these items.
The world in which we are to
get God's work done
is filled with violence that offends
and accidents that befuddle us.
These are two different yet formidable
stumbling blocks that impede the work
with which we are charged.
Jesus recognized the streak of violence that
exists within our humanity. In his own age, it
apparently had intensified: "From the days of
John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven
has suffered violence and the violent take it by force."
(Matthew 11:12).
Our lesson illustrates some of what was going on.
At that very time, we read, Jesus was texted
with breaking news; he was informed of Galileans
whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.
This means the military had engaged in an operation
of murder while a people were in worship.
This was not an accident, it was not a rogue action;
it was not a failure in the chain of command;
it was not a mistaken communication;
it was top-down policy. The orders had come from Pilate.
The violence is not reckless and random;
the violence is not attributable to someone
with a history of self medication and erratic behavior.
The violence has a mind; it has a body;
it is well funded; never subject to budget cuts.
There never needs to be a bake sale for new equipment
or the latest in technology. Financing is
sustained by the state, shrewdly plotted,
patiently planned, efficiently implemented.
The violence is expected, honored, rewarded,
celebrated, decorated, esteemed.
The picture here is quite complicated;
it would be most unwise to think otherwise.
The violence employed by the empire was conceivably
directed against a people known to have embraced
the principled use of violence to resist their oppressors.
Roman occupation was not welcome, and they wanted
Rome out. Presumably, they died as they had lived:
violently.
Also, there may be a personal dimension to this mingling
of blood. If Jesus didn't know some of those who lost
their lives, then I expect he knew someone who did.
The "degree of separation" couldn't have been too great.
So - sympathy lies where and with whom it does,
pretty much depending upon which side of the fence you
happen to fall upon. The Galileans may be terrorists;
then again, freedom fighters. And Pilate's soldiers
may be blessed; or reviled and cursed.
Jesus proceeds to venture into another area -
with citation of a incident where 18 folks were
killed when a tower fell.
Was it human error,
a flaw in the design,
a fatigue in the materials?
We don't know; Jesus gives no clue.
He is interested in a moral calibration at play,
presumably, in both the violence and the accident.
The popular line of reasoning:
Those who so suffer get what they deserve.
This Jesus rejects. He offers instead,
"there but by the grace of God go I."
It is here that we encounter a discipline
that Jesus suggests to contend with this
world that is filled with flaw and volatility:
repentance. Repentance often is thought
of as an act of contrition, a feeling of remorse
accompanied by a vow to change one's ways.
I don't rule out this possibility. But I do want to
increase our options, and suggest an expanded
understanding. We need repentance to propel
us into the world; we need a daily dose
to deal with either our fears or
our disinclinations to be fully involved,
or a combination of the two that keep us from being
fully engaged with work in God's world.
I'm mindful of the poet, W.B. Yeats,
who looked upon the world of his time
only to surmise: "The best lack all conviction,
while the worst are full of passionate intensity"
(The Second Coming, 1922).
And so too, Hannah Arendt, who judged:
"Humanity's chief moral deficiency appears
to be not ... indiscretions but reticence."
It is hard to get God's work done in the world when
the best lack conviction, and our chief moral
deficiency is reticence, retirement.
As corrective, Jesus counseled repentance.
Daily repentance invites us to be more fully engaged,
more fully involved in getting God's work done in the world.
And that work, we understand, is bolted to
the imperatives of love and justice.
***** ***** *****
We consider now the parable that follows,
seemingly quite simple, featuring a fig tree
that isn't living up to its purpose in life.
The fig tree is subject to conversation between
the owner of the vineyard who planted,
and a gardener (in the owner's employ, we assume)
whose job is to pick and prune, and otherwise work
to ensure there is owner-pleasing produce.
These two character face off over the fate of the fig tree.
The owner's judgment is based upon past performance.
The gardener has sight set upon potential future earnings.
The owner is filled with disgust over lost earnings
on investments;
the gardener is filled with hope over the potential
profits that may yet flower and flourish.
The owner is quick in desiring to uproot, overturn,
what is judged to be a waste of good soil.
The gardener is slow to anger, eager to intercede,
willing to invest in what the owner judges to be waste.
(Ps. 86:15; 103:8; 145:8; Numbers 14:18; Jonah 4:2)
It is important that we hear this parable.
The tree has a critic to be sure, who wants to
fire up the chain saw and let her rip;
but the tree also has an advocate,
willing to plead, protect, defend
the tree based not upon what it is,
but upon what it can be.
The gardener recognizes this one fig tree
requires some extra attention and special care.
The gardener is willing to take the tree on as project
to see that with a little TLC, a little prayer,
a little extra investment of time and consideration,
it might become that which it was designed to be
from the first.
I believe this little parable gives us the gospel in a nutshell.
If we can role play this parable, good things will come about.
***** ***** *****
SOME PEOPLE MERIT EXTRA ATTENTION
(Before a Final Decision is Made)
Some people merit extra attention.
In our past, there are chapters filled with glory,
and some with shame. One such chapter is
the story of the Amistad, a ship carrying human
cargo. It is a story mingled with violence,
human trafficking in flesh, and those bound for servitude
rising up, resisting, fighting for their freedom.
It is the story of our ancestors pleading,
defending, supporting those Africans out of a clear sense
of the justice and liberty God desires for all.
It is story of governments desiring quick profits,
and defending salvage rights;
and a church that saw otherwise.
It is a story in which all was not well that ended well,
a reminder that there is always work in the vineyard
for the lovers of God and seekers of justice.
My question today:
where is your tree?
Where is our Amistad?
Fig-uratively speaking.
What project have you adopted?
For whom are we praying?
In whom are we investing?
Who has the world judged a waste
where you, and maybe only you,
stand in the breach?
Where are we standing up for what
others want to cut down?
When we find our tree,
fig-uratively speaking,
when we invest not in what is seen, but in what remains to be seen,
when we serve as intercessors
in the plight, indeed, even the pain and suffering others,
then we enter the strange bliss
seen so clearly by Jesus:
we gain what we cannot keep.
As once he said, so still he speaks:
... those who want to save their life will lose it,
and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.
In so saving, peace and joy abounds as
God's work is getting done in the world,
even unto the rest that is the life everlasting.
Amen.
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