Welcome to the middle of Lent! This is the point where some people either feel really good about the fact that they have given something up or really bad because they tried and failed. Of course, the staunch Calvinists in the crowd are thinking (in a French Calvinist accent), “I feel nothing. Lent is no different than any other time. God is always calling us to repent.”
So, here we are, all together in the in-between time of Lent. Welcome to the illusion of this present moment. I say that because of a piece on the TED Radio Hour on the illusion of time. Harvard Psychologist, Dan Gilbert, spoke about the way in which the past and the future are like the sand and the sea.
We like to think that there is a line in between the two, and yet there is only the sand on the beach and water that ebbs and flows against it, in it, and through it. His point is that the past is full of events that we can record. The future is full of events that exist in its potential. What we call the present is a reality that we construct in order to feel like things are normal and fixed as a point in time, when in fact the present is constantly changing.
Folk singer David LaMotte celebrates this ambiguity by saying that there is no present like time, while Morpheus, the prophetic figure from the Matrix trilogy, calls it “the desert of the real.” In the desert of the real, we are called most clearly to repent – to reorient our lives around a new understanding of the world. Repentance is what we’re going to wrestle with today, to the delight of all true Calvinists.
Before going too far down the rabbit hole, I want to offer some points of clarification on the context of our readings. The reading from Isaiah was written to Israelites returning from captivity in Babylon. The land had been razed. Those who were left grabbed what habitable land they could, and all the people had to find a way forward together. The prophet’s call was to remind them of God’s activity in the past, to help them see it in the present, and to give them hope for what is to come. It reminded them that they were all in it together; and that God was with them; and that the essential way forward was in meeting the most basic of needs together.
Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth, on the other hand, was a warning about the consequences of breaking their covenant with God. There are some juicy tidbits in there that seem to be about personal indulgences, but they are actually about the people and their lack of fidelity to God. These stories of the past were about the people denying God’s providence. They were stories about temple practices that disrespected life-giving relationships and people expecting God to serve their needs.
There were certainly some individuals making some bad decisions in these stories, but this is one of those places where the Bible is clearly less of a defense for personal freedom and more of a recognition that unchecked freedom does not end well for anyone.
What a perfect set up for Jesus! In Luke 12 he warns about judgment and focuses on time. Then he seems to use a tragedy to call people to repent in a way that would make even a Pentecostal preacher blush! He then tells a story to give us some hope, but he leaves it in a cliff hanger. What will be the fate of the fig tree?
Well, take heart, because this is where we come into the story! We come in as people who know about the rest of the story. We come in as people who remember that John the Baptizer said, “Bear fruit worthy of repentance!” Yeah! So, this is the fruit. Wait. Where’s the fruit? What does Jesus even mean when he says, “Unless you repent, you will die just as they did?”
To be fair, scholars still argue over exactly who Jesus was talking about. Some say that the Galileans were pious Jews that Pilate had executed in the temple for rocking the boat politically. Some say the faulty tower was a sign of crumbling infrastructure and subversion of temple taxes by government officials. What really matters here is that Jesus doesn’t care, or rather, he cares equally. It doesn’t matter to Jesus whether a disaster is human or accidental. His compassion knows no bounds.
So when he says, “Metanoia,” he doesn’t just mean to slap us on the hand for doing bad things. He means that we must change the way we think about one another. He is essentially setting up a system of tolerance that has a line in the sand. It’s funny. I asked my son about this earlier this week and he knew the answer without skipping a beat. What’s the one thing a system of tolerance can’t tolerate? Intolerance.
Of course. So, where do we go from here? The Bible? Well, if we read it with no filter, the Bible is actually pretty intolerant at times (in both Testaments). If we read it with the filter of love that expects justice and does not depend on power, then we may just get somewhere. Jesus does draw a line in the sand here, and that line is one that includes the powerless and expects us to do the same.
As easy as it is to say that, you and I both know that’s not what we tend to do. Our nature is to pick and choose who is worthy or whose pain we are willing to let impact our lives. Here’s an example: Rudy Macklin. ESPN just made a short film about his story called, No Kin To Me.
Macklin is LSU's all-time leading rebounder and second-leading scorer. In 1981 he led LSU to the final four, but they did not succeed. Some will remember that as the same year that President Regan was shot. A reporter asked him if that had affected their playing ability, and he coolly and honestly replied, “He’s no kin of mine.”
Well, that set off a hornet’s nest that included death threats for him and some who were his kin. I tell you this because it demonstrates two things. One is that we tend to limit ourselves to care about ourselves and those we love. The other is that the collective response was only that strong because an attack on the president was seen as an attack on our way of life, and the values that make us who we are.
As important as that is, Jesus hears it and says, “Why have compassion for him and not the uptick in homelessness that began in the ’80s and continues today. For that matter, why grieve with those shot while praying in Christchurch in New Zealand and not with those in the path of the cyclone in Africa or the floods in the Midwest? What about the 2,841 teens injured or killed from gun violence in the US last year? What about our neighbors who cannot find work that pays enough to pay rent and feed and clothe children at the same time?”
The good news is that this Jesus is also the Gardener, who smiles and says, “Now you see. Welcome to the middle. Welcome to the uncomfortable in-between time, where the line in the sand shifts with the tide but always calls you into the great sea of compassion. There is no present to fuss over. There is only time. Right now is the time to repent. Right now is the time to change the way you see each other. Right now is the time to restore the dignity of your brother or your sister in need by seeing each other as fully human. Right now is the time to see yourself and everyone you meet as a reflection of the image of God.”
The fruit worthy of repentance always exists in its potential. In fact, a gardener told me earlier this week that we must always plant with next season in mind. So, will this fig tree bear fruit? You bet it will! To paraphrase our artist of the week, Lisle Gwenn Garrity, even the manure that fertilizes us is the fruit of repentance. So, as we continue in our journey toward the cross, let us find joy in the waiting.
Let us continue to cultivate space in our hearts and minds and let us let go of all the fears that keep us from embracing (and being embraced by) our greatest hope. That is the hope of restoration that awaits all of God’s good creation. I pray that it may be so with you and that it may be so with me – and all to God’s glory, now and always, amen.
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