March 20, 2022–The Third Sunday in Lent
Readings: Exodus 3:1-15 and Luke 13:1-9
Everything happens for a reason. That’s what people will tell you, anyway. When you don’t get that promotion you were sure you’d earned, or the home inspection turns up black mold, or your top choice of colleges turns you down. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe there’s a better job waiting for you, or you would have had terrible neighbors at the dream house, or you’re going to meet your one true love at the college you go to instead of your first-choice school. That’s what is implied when people say, “Everything happens for a reason.” They’re saying that if you just wait patiently, show some faith, and make the best of things, you are going to be rewarded with something even better than what you thought you wanted most.
This kind of pep talk comes from a good place, but it falls apart as a source of comfort in the face of real hardship or tragedy. The religion scholar Kate Bowler wrote a memoir after she was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer at the age of 35. She called it, Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I’ve Loved. She has, miraculously, survived many years more than any doctor thought possible, and she now has a podcast called simply, “Everything Happens.”
In today’s Gospel Jesus is confronted by some people who really want to know if everything happens for a reason, and if so, could he help them understand what that reason is, please? They are thinking of a recent horrific incident in the life of their community. Pilate, a government official working for the occupying Roman Empire, chose to murder some of his subjects while they were offering sacrifices at the Temple in Jerusalem. Although no other record of this atrocity exists, it is not entirely out of keeping with the historical data we do have about Pontius Pilate, who was known for seeing threats to his power around every corner and not being afraid to respond with force.
Some time after the crucifixion of Jesus, in fact, Pilate was essentially fired for being too violent in his suppression of an armed rebellion. You had to be pretty far gone for the Roman Empire to think that you were using too much muscle to maintain order, so perhaps we should not be too surprised to hear the report that is brought to Jesus that Pilate had mingled the blood of Galileans with their sacrifices.
As barbaric as Pilate’s actions were, such shocking and outrageous events continue to this day. The Galileans who were killed were in a place of worship, a place of prayer, which should have been a place of safety. This may well stir up memories for us of events in this country over the last few years, times when we have seen people victimized in mosques, in churches, and in synagogues—people set upon in the very places that should have provided refuge. Last week the world was horrified to see another such atrocity in Mariupol, Ukraine, when Russian forces bombed a maternity ward. The blood of those innocent women and children is an unforgettable and chilling reminder that the thirst for power and dominance is still alive and well in our world today, with catastrophic consequences.
When faced with such horror, can we really feel satisfied with placating phrases like “everything happens for a reason”? No, of course not. Our brains want reasons, want to understand cause and effect, and so we search for some way to make sense of innocent suffering. The people around Jesus had heard one answer that might make sense of things: maybe the people who had suffered so badly at the hands of Pilate were not good people. Maybe in some way they had done something to deserve what had happened to them. So they ask Jesus about this—were those Galileans sinners? Is that why such a terrible thing happened to them?
Jesus utterly rejects this line of thinking. Don’t blame the victims, he tells people, unless you want to be judged by that same logic. If you believe that your life is going so well because you’re a good person, then what are you supposed to believe when it isn’t going so well? And what happens the next time you do something wrong? Is lightning going to strike? Do you want to skulk around looking over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop? Or are you deluded enough to think that you’ll never sin so you don’t have to worry about a thing? Jesus says no to this whole way of thinking, which we might call “retributive justice” on a cosmic scale.
Jesus responds to this question about suffering with a call to repentance. His response might sound strange to our ears, even unsympathetic, but the reason behind it is simple: the question posed to him reveals a profound need for change. To “repent” means to change the way we see things, to change our hearts and minds, which is why you will often hear it associated with the idea of turning. When we turn our perspective changes. We see things in a different way. That is what Jesus is saying to these questioners and to us—you’ve got to change the way you see things or life itself will be a punishment to you. That’s very different than saying that everything happens for a reason. And it’s definitely different than saying that God is going to “get you” if you don’t watch out.
It’s fair to ask, though: what is the relationship between God and suffering? Quite simply, God abhors suffering. Let’s think for a moment about our first reading, the famous portion from Genesis about Moses and the burning bush. Notice that Moses responds to his first glimpse of the burning bush by saying to himself, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight.” Moses is turning; he is opening himself up to see something new, and that is the opening that God needs. Now, in what is literally a pivotal moment, God knows that if he calls to Moses he will be heard. So here God is using a miracle, the burning bush, to get Moses to pay attention, to see things differently, and to get ready to act on his new perspective. And what is the action that God wants Moses to take? To lead his people out of their suffering.
This is one of those unequivocal proclamations of God’s will in Scripture—God wants the suffering of the innocent to end. He repeatedly emphasizes that he is aware of and responsive to suffering, saying, “I have seen the misery of my people, I have heard their cry, I know their sufferings, and I want to deliver them.” That is the great desire of God that is revealed here and that becomes a theme throughout salvation history: God says, “I have come down to deliver my people from their suffering, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey.” When God hears the cry of the poor and enslaved, God does not say, “There, there. Don’t worry. Everything happens for a reason.” Rather, God says through his prophet Moses, “Let my people go!”
Finally, what about that fig tree? I am not 100% sure that the fig tree parable was really told as a response to the question of suffering. But it does give us an interesting insight into repentance, in the sense of changing our minds and hearts and perspectives. Although parables are not the same allegories, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to see Jesus reflected in the character of the gardener here. Most people, like the man in this parable who owned the land, are quick to condemn. Productivity is what matters! Efficiency! Profit and loss! If this tree isn’t producing, cut it down! Jesus, ever the wise gardener, is always willing to extend grace—a little more time, a little more nourishment, a little more attention. Let’s not rush to judgment. Some trees take more time than others to bear fruit.
As we turn the corner into the final weeks of Lent, we might want to meditate on that fig tree. What in your life is bearing good fruit? Are there relationships or good habits that need more attention, more time, more nourishment so that they can bear more fruit? Or maybe you have things that need to be pruned or even cut out so that they will stop getting in the way of good growth. It might take a change in perspective, a turning of the heart and mind, to see the situation more clearly. Just be sure that if you are turning toward deeper care for those who are suffering, you are turning in the right direction. We may not know why everything happens the way it does, but we can trust that God’s guidance will help us to respond, in all situations, with courage, compassion, and love. Thanks be to God. Amen.
