Lessons From the Gardener
Isaiah 55:1-9; Luke 13:1-9
Lent begins with ashes. Several years ago, at the lunch hour on Ash Wednesday, a church member and I stood on a busy corner of downtown Birmingham. I was dressed in my clerical robe and she held a sign that read “Ashes to Go.” People looked at us curiously and seemed nervous about coming too close. When they did, we would ask, “Would you like to receive Ashes?” “Uh, No thanks.”
Some weren’t interested in receiving a smudge of gritty blackness on their forehead. Another one said, “I would, but I’m not catholic” as he scurried away. “We aren’t either!” I shouted after him. My partner in ashes giggled. A guy in a trucker hat with big J-E-S-U-S letters across the front, looked at us puzzled and asked, “What’s this all about?” I explained, but he kept trucking.
Another one came by proudly pointing at his own ashes, “I’ve already been to church today!” (Praise the Lord, thumbs up!) We all like approva
Then a man stopped and said, “I received ashes this morning, but I didn’t ask for a blessing. Could you give me a blessing?” I placed a hand on his shoulder and said a version of what I had said to all the others who had stopped:
The symbol you wear is a sign of your mortality. You, beloved of God, made in God’s image. May you turn from the things that get in the way of who God made you to be. Go in peace.
Then a woman approached with a smile on her face and a spring in her step and said to the person on the other end of her cell phone call, “hold on one minute, I’ve got to get my ashes.” She put her face in my face. Her chin slightly tilted upward, eyes closed, sun sparkling in the rhinestones on her glasses. I almost hated to besmudge her bright, shining face. She received her ashes and a blessing and just before she went back to her phone conversation, she waved spiritedly to us as she hustled away and said, “Happy Lent!” We giggled and said, “I’m not sure she gets it.”
Placing your face in someone’s hands to receive ashes and a dreary reminder that all must die simply must be paired with another reminder: that You come from God. You belong to God. You are destined for God. (The blessing of St. Ignatius) The Lenten road that takes us from ashes to hosannas…is a paradoxical journey. Like our theme to cultivate and let go. Notice the paradoxical images in our litany this morning – barrenness and fruitfulness; in the words of assurance – God is faithful and just. Today’s story from Luke 13 is no different. There is righteous anger and then humble repentance. There is a call to repent or perish!
The Lenten road is paved with repentance. But repentance in Luke’s gospel is not all penance as we shall see.
The Hebrew word for “repent” means “to turn.” Literally, to return or change directions; metaphorically it means a radical change in behavior or perspective. In the gospel, the word used for “repent” stems from the Greek noun metanoia, which refers to a transformative change of heart.[1]
Verses 1-5 tells of two tragedies for which we have very little historical context. Jesus is told about the slaughter of Galileans at worship in Jerusalem at the hands of Pontius Pilate. Jesus responds with, And did you also hear that eighteen lives were lost when the tower in Siloam fell? You don’t think those Galileans deserved what happened to them, do you? I tell you not any more than these Jerusalemites deserved to die, you must understand. Their sinfulness did not bring this suffering upon them. His question-ers are asking the universal question we all ask in the face of tragedy and great loss, Why did this happen?
Jesus reminds them that suffering does not discriminate. Nor does it directly correlate with the sinfulness of those who suffered. The Galilean Jews were murdered at the hands of the Romans. The Judeans were killed in a horrible accident at the hand of no one. He might as well have said, “If you’re asking if suffering is random or if it falls according to divine law, you’re distracting all of us from what really matters: true repentance.” Repentance is the obligation of all who will follow Jesus regardless if they are Galilean, Judean, Roman, successful or suffering, barren or fruitful.
Jesus recalibrates their focus. He follows this call for repentance with a parable of divine patience. “God’s mercy is still in serious conversation with God’s judgment,” Fred Craddock would say.
A man gets frustrated with a fig tree planted in his vineyard that has been fruitless for three years. The phrase, “and still I find none” indicates that this isn’t the first time he has checked on it. “He is ready to uproot it and spare the soil from hosting its lazy roots” one more day[2]. The gardener understands the landowner’s frustrations. Instead of going along with the man’s wishes, he intercedes. It appears to be a healthy plant. The gardener will fertilize it and tend to it and then see what happens. Give it one more year, he implores. The fruitless tree has an advocate in the gardener, who is willing to provide the special attention it needs in order for it eventually to be productive. Give it one more year, he pleads with the landowner. The owner agrees and grants the reprieve. “If it doesn’t produce, then it's your prerogative to cut it down.”
The parable doesn’t diminish Jesus’ emphasis on the urgency of the times for repentance, but the point is still made: God’s mercy is still in serious conversation with God’s judgement. It seems to be foreshadowing what we will see when Jesus gets to Jerusalem – the ultimate paradox of the cross.
Luke will continue to reveal that God is abundantly patient and gracious with his children in their repentance. A tree-climbing tax collector repents of his sin and then has a dinner party with Jesus. Celebrations will be thrown when a lost coin, a lost sheep, and a lost son are found! Kyndall Rothaus says, The objective of repentance is to return you back to life in God. Repentance isn’t a dirty word or a sad one or a punitive one or a dismal one. Repentance is the thing that brings you back to life. In scripture, when a person repents, the heavens erupt in a party. [3]
God invites us to the other side of ‘repent or perish,’ which is ‘forgiveness and life!’ Repentance will set you free. And not only you, but those who come looking for you! Those who say, Give it another look. Give her another chance. Give it one more year. They will also experience the joy of your repentance; the freedom in your found-ness. One person’s repentance bears fruit in the whole community.[4]
What would it take to cultivate a culture of genuine repentance?
What would we have to let go?
A guy who came to our corner on that Ash Wednesday has stayed with me. I could see him coming. He crossed the street to confront us with questions: Why are you doing this? What’s the meaning of ashes? Do you believe that someone is closer to God because they get ashes on their forehead? What is Lent, anyway? Do you really believe that giving up something makes you closer to God?
He didn’t get ashes. He didn’t want ashes. He didn’t want my answers either. He didn’t argue with any of my responses. Like those who questioned Jesus in the deaths at Siloam and in Jerusalem, he let his questions distract him from the opportunity for repentance and blessing. He missed out on hearing you come from God, you belong to God, you are destined for God. He missed it.
Sometimes we are like the concerned citizens who came to Jesus with their questions, or like this young man who crossed the street to NOT get ashes. Our anger gets in our way, even when it's righteous anger. Our stubbornness, our traumatic memories, our impatience, our pride –these get in the way of genuine repentance.
Sometimes we are like the landowner. Just cut him down. There is no more life here, we lament, might as well move on. We see waste, not possibility. We see loss, not courage or resilience or persistence. [5] And these get in the way of our own repentance.
We are the fig tree. We are often given multiple opportunities to do better, to be better, or to do the right thing. The same grace that God extends to us we must also extend to one another. We sin. We repent. And by the grace of God, we are given another chance (another year) to be the people God is calling us to be.
Ahh… that’s the Gardener. The Gardener sees something more when he looks at the tree. I want to have the eyes of the Gardener when I look at my neighbor. I want to cultivate the patience of the Gardener. The Gardener always sees the fruit inside the seed.
Happy Lent.
[1] Allen, Ronald J., Working Preacher Commentary on Luke 13:1-9
[2] Barreto, Eric Christian Century Feb 27, 2019
[3] ibid.
[4] Rothaus, Kyndall Rae Preacher Breath
[5] Barreto, Eric Christian Century Feb 27, 2019