Sermon 3/14/04
Come to the Waters - Isaiah 55:1-9, Luke 13:1-9
(view lectionary notes for this text)
As we journey deeper into the season of Lent, we happen upon today's story from the gospel of Luke, and unlike many of the passages we read together, I suspect this one is not very familiar to you. Sure, there are lots of parables scattered through the gospels that are about seeds and plants and trees and other things that grow and die. But even so, there are things that seem to set this story and parable apart. The parable's meaning does not seem to jump out at us in a clear way that makes us nod our heads in understanding. And, unfortunately, there's no convenient part where the disciples ask on our behalf for Jesus to explain what it all meant.
The first part of our passage finds some of the crowds sharing with Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. Most people in Jesus' day believed that death like that of the Galileans mentioned here - life cut short, death that was painful and punishing - this kind of death was thought to be a sign of God's judgment on the people. (1) Indeed, much of our scriptures, particularly in the Old Testaments, forward the idea that people with abundant lives must be especially blessed by God. Job, for example, that faithful servant of God, is blessed with family, land, home, livestock, possessions of all sorts: these are the signs that are supposed to show his favor from God. Though perhaps we view God and God's blessings somewhat differently today, perhaps we do not think of God quite so differently today. When we are struggling financially, we ask why God won't help us out. When a loved one dies tragically, too early, we ask why God has cursed us. But when things are going well for us, we thank God, if we remember. We see our good fortune as a sign of God's blessings, and wonder what we've done wrong when things aren't going our way.
Jesus steps up to challenge this presumption. "Do you think," he asks, "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." Jesus continues with another similar example, but his point is the same: The tragic death these Galileans suffered was not due to sinfulness or faithfulness, God's curse or God's blessing. Ultimately, what is called for, is our repentance. Unless we turn our lives around, and direct ourselves to God and God's task for us, we are sure to perish, not in death, which finds us all, but in separation from God who loves us.
The second part of our passage seems to leap to an entirely different course, as if we're missing the middle chunk of the conversation somehow. Jesus tells a parable about a man who planted a fig tree. The fig tree is found to be fruitless - it is not growing the figs it is supposed to bear. This is troubling, because figs grow easily, under most conditions. For a fig tree to not bear fruit is indeed a bad sign. So the man is not overreacting when he orders his gardener to cut it down. But the gardener pleads for one more year. During this year, the gardener will specially tend to it, fertilize it carefully. After a year, if the plant still will not grow fruit, then, they will cut it down. It's easy to read these passages and come away with a sense of fear and dread. In the first part, we get the idea that chaos and catastrophe can visit us at any moment, no matter what kind of lives we lead. We're told to repent, or perish. As simple as that.
As for the parable section, we can figure out enough of this parable to know that our own lives are usually represented by the plants and trees in Jesus' stories - in this case, the fig trees. We're the fig trees. So, that means that somebody wants to cut us down, because we're not bearing fruit. The clock is ticking - somebody has bought us a little extra time, but we've still got to hurry and get to work, or else. Or else!
Our reading from Isaiah, on the other hand, brings quite a contrast at first read, from the impending doom element in our gospel lesson. We read, "Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?" These beautiful words conjure images of oasis in the midst of desert, refreshment in the midst of toil. This is a message we can get behind: free. What Isaiah seems to offer here is given without cost to us. So, given the choice, we'd probably rather stick with these words from Isaiah then tend to the strange writings from Luke. But, as always, things aren't so easy or straightforward as they seem.
We humans seem to rally behind either/or things in life. Things are either right or wrong, true or false, good or bad, black or white. We want our choices clear and simple. We want to know that if we do this or that, we are going to heaven or to hell. It's a sin or it's not a sin. God is a God of love or a God of law. We are either required to earn God's grace or it's free and we're clear. Unfortunately, our reality is just not black and white, either/or. We're a diverse people, in a world full of all the shades of color you can imagine, full of half truths, lesser of two evils, both/ands. It's not either/or. Like those quiz scenarios where you'd have to decide who you'd save first of two drowning loved ones, our choices in this world constantly remind us that it's both/and that we have to come to accept. But living in a both/and world doesn't have to be as bad or as confusing and uncomfortable as we'd fear.
Recently, I've been reading a book by Arthur Simon, founder of the end-hunger campaign Bread for the World, called How Much is Enough? Hungering for God in an Affluent Culture. He shares this quote from theologian Richard Foster: "The Christian life comes not by gritting our teeth but by falling in love." "The Christian life comes not by gritting our teeth but by falling in love." Simon expands, writing, "Jesus' words about possessions, and his call to deny self, take up the cross, and follow him sound a lot like an invitation to grit your teeth. But they seem to have had the opposite effect on his followers. Jesus' death and resurrection . . . gave them a hope and a purpose that fired their lives as they began forming a new community of faith. They clearly had fallen in love with God for having loved them so lavishly in Christ."
Somewhere along the path of Christian discipleship, we got it stuck in our heads that God is an either/or God. Either we must grit our teeth and earn our spot in heaven, or our path is easy and God hands over grace and we don't have to think about it any more. This is what German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer would call cheap grace. God calls us for something more incredible: the joy of both and. God's grace is both totally free, and something that demands of us hard work of discipleship and life-changing.
Turning back to the lesson from Luke, we hear Jesus calling us to repent, and reminding us that we are planted to bear fruit. But by God's grace, Christ also bargains for us to have another year, and promises to fertilize our lives with tender care, encouragement, and even some pruning. By God's grace, we are called to come to the waters that Isaiah describes, and to drink deeply, freely. For, Isaiah reminds us, God abundantly pardons us. But don't forget that free and easy are not the same things. Return for a minute to Richard Foster's metaphor of the Christian life as falling in love. Love is something we know to be free: true love can't be bought or sold. It's given and received as a gift. But easy? No one ever said love was easy, or that love did not require hard work, or care, or discipline. Love takes all these things. So it is with God's grace: Grace is free, totally free. We can not earn it - if we tried, we in our human faultiness would fail miserably. God gives grace. But easy? We are called to repent, to be disciples, to chose the satisfying life of living water. Come to the waters, you who thirst. And drink deep of God's free, challenging, difficult, and loving grace. Amen.