Living with Purpose: March 23

 Year C, Lent 3                                 Luke 13:1-9                                                                                                          One of my least favorite things about living near the coast of Virginia was the 3 month period when we were on alert for hurricanes.  Fortunately, in the 18 years that I lived there, we never had a devastating storm.  We had some bad ones, but none that caused severe damage or loss of life.  I was living in Norfolk, which is right next to Virginia Beach.  Virginia Beach was the home of the Christian Broadcasting Network and Regent University, both founded by Pat Robertson.  The joke was that we didn’t have to worry about hurricanes because either Pat Robertson would pray the storm away, or it just wouldn’t affect us because of the moral leadership of Pat Robertson. 

We just got a small piece of the storm.

Robertson often linked disasters to the morality of the people in the places these  disasters affected. When an earthquake killed hundreds of thousands of people in Haiti, he said it was because they made a pact with the devil. When a hurricane threatened coastal Virginia, Robertson claimed that he prayed it away and God would never want to damage his Christian campus and ministry.  Instead, the hurricane hit North and South Carolina, killing 17 people there.

            Robertson is not the only Christian leader to make these kinds of connections.  However, before his death just a few years ago, he was one of the few who had his own television network and university to amplify his views.  There is a part of many of us that connects bad things that happen to what we have or have not done. Whether we admit it or not, we often connect good things with good people and bad things with bad people.  It drives us crazy when bad things happen to really good people. How many times have you said or heard someone say, “They didn’t deserve that.”  Consider the stories of people who give credit to God when they missed their flight on a plane that crashed. The implication is that God wanted that individual to live while letting the others die.  If you look at our Gospel reading today, you will hear Jesus addressing this question of why things happen to certain people and not others.  Unfortunately, he didn’t provide a very clear answer.

            It starts off clear. The people in his midst (probably a mix of disciples and onlookers) mentioned 2 recent incidents, one which was the deaths of a group of people at the hands of Pilate.   We know of Pilate as he was involved in Jesus’ death, but he was well known as being brutal with the Jewish people, quick to subdue any potential insurrection with violence.  When the people mentioned this incident, Jesus guessed that they were bringing this up because they wanted an explanation. Perhaps it was coming from a place of fear.  Were they next? Perhaps just curiosity. Have you ever noticed when something horrible happens, we are all desperate to find an explanation, partly to prevent other bad things happening, but also because we are wondering—how can we avoid this terrible thing from happening to us?  What can we tell ourselves to make us feel better?

            Jesus answered their non-question with a question: “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you…” This answer probably made them feel a mix of relief and fear. If they thought they were more sinful then most, it was relief.  If they felt they were actually good people, they probably didn’t like this answer, because this meant they could do nothing to avoid horrible things happening to them.  So far, I like this answer by Jesus.  If I concluded that everything bad that has happened to me was connected to my sins and God’s anger about my sins—I would have a difficult time worshipping that kind of God and it would be a miserable way to live. 

Then Jesus goes on… and here is where things get murky.  “No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”  This is a good example of why we can’t read the Bible literally. Obviously, not everyone who refused to repent was going to be killed by Pilate.  Pilate just didn’t have that kind of time.  However, it appears that he was saying that there will be consequences when we don’t repent.  That sounds a little scary. We have to be really careful not to make this into some kind of formula. Like, if you don’t repent, bad things happen.  It’s not that simple. We have all seen people who have gotten through life without there being any obvious consequences for their bad behavior.  But just because we don’t see the consequences doesn’t mean there aren’t any.

I believe what Jesus is doing here is shifting the perspective of the crowd.  They wanted this conversation to be about the sins of other people. It’s so much easier to judge other people then look at ourselves.  I think we all know that when we sin, there are consequences, sometimes to other people, sometimes to our planet, but most often to ourselves. When Jesus says, “unless you repent” it looks like a judgment or an ultimatum.  Yet what if we perceive repentance as an opportunity for us to examine our lives and ask for forgiveness?  So many people move through life carrying guilt and shame.  This is Jesus saying, you don’t have to carry that forever. You can repent and wipe the slate clean.  It’s not easy, but you can do it, with God’s help. 

A lot of people think that if we emphasize the God of love and compassion, then we can’t possibly talk about a God who judges or holds us accountable.  If you have a child or remember being a child, you know that life without consequences doesn’t help the child.  When a parent says no to their child or reprimands them, that doesn’t mean they don’t love their child. We are God’s children and God loves us so very much, but God wants us to be better, do better.

That is what the parable at the end of our Gospel is about as well. A fig tree is planted in a garden and after the appropriate amount of time, the owner of the fig tree sees that it’s not bearing fruit and decides to cut it down.  The gardener says, let’s give it some help (manure) and some more time and then we will cut it down if it doesn’t bear fruit.  There are consequences, but there is also grace.  When we find that our sin are building up and stop us from being the people that God want us to be, we can ask God for help and God is going to give us the help and the time we need.  But that doesn’t mean that God has no expectations on us or our behavior. 

There is urgency in this text because as we all know, life is far too fragile.  It’s so easy to put our relationship with God on the back burner because there are always more pressing demands on our time and energy.  What Jesus is doing here is encouraging a faith that is action oriented, a faith that bears fruit.   The fig tree had a purpose, to grow figs. Each one of us has a purpose as well.  It’s probably not always as clear as it is with a fruit tree, but we all have a purpose, one that contributes not just to our own life, but this world that we live in.

 If you are thinking, I don’t know what my purpose is. Loving God, loving your neighbor, sharing the love of God— that is a good place to start.  Having a purpose doesn’t mean we have a life plan that is all figured out. It means that we live with intention and hope. One thing I love about our faith is that Jesus tells us no matter who we are, what we do, how far along we are in our journey of faith, we have a reason for being.  We might not know our plan, but there is a plan. The closer we are to God, the closer we are to our purpose.

A Thorny Encounter: February 28 2016

Year C, Lent 3             Exodus 3:1-15                                                                        

 

            I have often heard people say something to the effect of, “If only God would speak to me from a burning bush, then things would be so much clearer.”  I too have considered that at times.  In this day and age, God seems to communicate in much more subtle ways than he did in the Old Testament.   Yet when I find myself yearning for the clarity of a burning bush, I remind myself of what that burning bush did for Moses.  It changed his life forever.  It really complicated his life, and the life of his family.  It turned a shepherd into a leader of an oppressed people, a man who would challenge the Pharaoh of Egypt.  I am sure there were times when Moses wished God would have been a little more subtle as that would have made it easier to ignore him.

            But Moses did not ignore the bush.  It was curiously that drew him to the bush.  He was beyond the wilderness tending a flock.  He was alone.  I imagine he was a little bored, probably lonely.   From a distance he saw what appeared to be a bush that was on fire.  The fact that there was a bush on fire was not what interested him.  What interested him was that the bush was not consumed by the fire.  He was intrigued and decided that he needed to investigate this a little further.  It was only when he drew near to the miraculous sight that God called to him from the bush.  God called his name…he said it twice.  He then identified himself as the God of his father, the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob.  There could be no doubt of who this was or who he was calling. 

            If only God spoke to us all this way! God could create something shiny that would grab our attention.  God would then call our name and then in no uncertain terms identify himself.  That is the way that I want God to communicate with me.  It seems so straightforward.  It was this clarity that led Moses to hide his face.  It was common knowledge at this time that if you looked at God directly it would be the last thing you would do.  Seeing the face of God would end in your death.  Moses did the safe and smart thing.  He had responded to God by saying, “Here I am”, he followed God’s directions by removing his shoes and now he was shielding his face out of deference to the power of God.  So far, things are going about as well as can be expected when a burning bush is involved. 

 God has never been one for small talk and immediately got to the point. He knew what was going on in Egypt.  He knew that the Hebrew people were suffering at the hands of the Egyptians. He went as far as to say, “I know their sufferings…”  That meant that not only was he aware of what was going on, but he had experienced the suffering with the people.  He felt the pain and the desperation.  I imagine that this understanding was comforting to Moses.  Finally someone was on their side, someone with power and authority.  If this God could create a bush that would burn but never turn to ash, surely God could free his people.

But then God explained how this was all going to happen.  He was going to send Moses to the Pharaoh and he would lead the Israelites out of Egypt.  Suddenly Moses was wishing he had gone about his business tending his flock and not investigated this dangerous bush.  There is a little detail in this story that is usually left out.  The Hebrew word that is translated to bush is actually translated to thorn bush.  This wasn’t just any old bush.  This was a thorn bush and those bushes can be dangerous.  It was a dangerous bush and an even more dangerous message.  Moses argued with God for a little bit and was eventually worn down.  God did not promise Moses that it would be easy or that it would be safe and sacrifice free. He only promised that he would be with him through it all. 

Whenever I am asked to pray, I almost always ask for God’s presence and that God’s presence be known.  That’s because I believe that God’s presence is a comfort and reassurance in difficult times as well as good times. Yet as I consider this rather thorny text, I wonder if that is the right prayer when seeking solace and comfort. If God wanted to comfort Moses, he could have sent a rainbow like he did for Noah.  But that’s not what God did.  God lit a thorn bush on fire, a fire that could not be quenched.

God should be a comfort to us all. But God should also challenge us, challenge us to change.  When you have a personal encounter with God, you will always be changed.  You might even leave with a limp or a scar.  It’s like when you start exercising after not working out for a while, it hurts.  But you know that that the pain will lead to a positive change.  You know that you will endure.  It is the same with our encounters with God.  When we open ourselves to God, we will be changed and it won’t be an easy change.  I am reminded of a quote that I have seen and probably mentioned before.  “God loves you just the way you are, but God loves you too much to let you stay that way.” 

That to me is what the season of Lent is about.  It’s not about beating ourselves up for our deficiencies or our sins.  It is about opening ourselves up to new encounters with God, even if those encounters shake us up a little…even if God tells us the exact opposite of what we want to hear. 

Now you might be thinking, ok, I am ready for this new thorny encounter.  Where’s my burning bush? 

While the burning bush will probably not be your sign, there are some things we can learn from Moses’ experience. The only reason that he saw the bush was because he was looking at the world around him.  If we are perpetually gazing at a screen…we will probably not see the bush.  Our world is suffering from sensory overload.  It is suffocating.  Therefore we need to be deliberate about creating that space to encounter God.  It might just mean turning off the music or podcast.  It might even mean silencing the phone.  I realize these things sounds drastic, but we have to give God something to work with.  God did not call out to Moses until Moses turned from his task and went to investigate the bush.  My prayer for all of us is that God will be present with us and that we will know that presence.  I pray that presence will not only bring us the peace of God-- but will also disturb our complacency and light a fire that cannot be quenched.