March 7, 2010
Psalm 63.1-8; Luke 13.1-9
It is now the Third Sunday in Lent. And with it being Lent, it seems that confessional talk is “the thing to do.” So, being in a confessional sort of mood, I will confess something. Again, like many of the previous confessions I’ve made form this pulpit, I know this will come as a great shock to most of you, but, here goes…
I am a bit stubborn. I can be a bit set-in-my-ways regarding things.
Now, I know that this comes a shock to some of you, but hear me out… One of those areas that I seem to be worst is admitting sometimes that I am wrong about something. On a few occasions, I have been so certain I was right about an issue and another person was wrong that when I finally later fully realized that it was, in fact, I who was wrong and the other person right, rather than admitting I was wrong, I ended up becoming angry. I became angry at the other person, I became angry at the situation. And I became angry at myself.
Only when I was able to stop the anger and the stubbornness—only when I was able to shake myself out of my close-mindedness—was I was able to see the error of my ways and was finally able to admit my fault, forgive myself and move on. Doing this—admitting when we are wrong, admitting to ourselves (and to others) that we are wrong, and making an effort not to get stuck in this stubborn cycle—is really what repentance is all about.
In today’s Gospel, we hear Jesus say some very stern words to us:
“…unless you repent, you will all perish [just as those poor unfortunates whose blood was mingled with sacrifices and on whom the tower of Siloam fell].”
Not pleasant talk. And when we hear words like “repent” we instantly find ourselves heading into an uncomfortable area. We find ourselves exploring the territory of self-abasement. We find some people lamenting and beating their breasts or throwing ashes in the air over all of this talk. We have been taught for a large extent that what we are dealing with in all of this talk of repentance is that somehow God is going to punish us for all the wrongs we did and that is why we must repent—repent, of course, meaning turn around.
And at first glance in our Gospel reading that’s exactly what we might be thinking. God is angry and we must repent—we must turn away from what is making God so angry. But if we look a bit closer and if we really let this reading settle in, we find be able to use this idea of repentance in a more constructive way.
In our Gospel reading, we find Jesus essentially saying to us that we are not going to bear fruit if we have cemented ourselves into our stubborn way of seeing and believing. The kingdom that Jesus is constantly preaching about only comes into our midst, as we have heard again and again, when we can love God, love others and love ourselves. When we do—when we love—we bear fruit. When we don’t love—and it is hard to love when we are angry or stubborn or resentful—then we are essentially the fig tree that bears no fruit. And it’s important to see that this love needs to be spread equally. It is love for God, love for our neighbor and love for ourselves.
We are not bearing full fruit when we are only doing two of the three. The love becomes lopsided. If we love only God and ourselves, but not our neighbors, then we are in danger of becoming fanatical. If we love God and love our neighbors only and not ourselves, we become self-abasing. But if we strive to do all three—if we strive to love fully and completely—then we find ourselves being freed by that love.
And it is freeing. When we talk of our stubbornness, when talking of closing ourselves off in anger and frustration, we imagine that cementing feeling—that confinement. But when we speak of love, we imagine that cementing being feeling broken. We find ourselves freed from our confinement. We allow ourselves to grow and flourish.
That’s the point Jesus is making to us in our Gospel reading today. And that is why repentance is so essentially for our spiritual growth, for the health of our Christian community and for the furthering of the Kingdom in our midst. Repentance in this sense means turning away from our self-destructive behavior. The kingdom is not in our midst when we are not filled with love. The kingdom cannot be furthered by us or by anyone when we feel no love for God, when we feel no love for others and when we feel no love for ourselves. Repentance in this sense means to turn around—to turn away from our self-destructive behavior. Repentance in this sense means that we must turn around and start to love. Repentance in this sense means that by repenting—by turning around—we truly are furthering the Kingdom in our midst.
There’s also another aspect to the analogy Jesus uses in today’s Gospel reading. If you notice, for three years the tree didn’t bear fruit and so the man who planted the tree thought it was a lost cause. But the gardener protests. He gives the tree a bit of tender loving care and the tree begins flourishing. What I love about that is the fact that it says to us that none of us are lost causes. We all go through times in our lives when we feel as though we are bearing no fruit at all. We feel as though we are truly “wasting the soil” in which we live. Or, in the words of our Psalm today,
“my soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you
as in a barren and dry land where there is no water.”
We feel as though we are helpless and useless and that sometimes it feels as though the pains and frustrations of our lives have won. We have been cemented into our negative feelings and emotions. The pains and frustrations of this life have stifled in us any sense of new life and growth.
But that little dose of TLC was able to find in that seemingly barren tree new life. A little bit of love and care can do wonders. It can change things. It can give life where it was thought there was no possibility of life before. It can renew and it can revitalize.
At this time of year, we are probably made most aware of this. Certainly when we look around at our seemingly dead and barren landscape, we might think that nothing beautiful and or wonderful can come from all this dirty snow and slush and ice. It’s hard to imagine in the midst of March that spring—or better yet, summer—is not that far away. And in this season of Lent, when we are faced with all this language of seeking mercy, on recalling our failings and shortcomings and sins, in this stripped-bare church season, it is hard to imagine that Easter is just a few weeks away.
But, in a sense, that is what repentance feelings like. Repentance is that time of renewal and revitalization that comes from the barren moments in our lives. Repenting truly does help us to not only bear fruit, but to flourish. Repenting and realizing how essential and important love of God, love of our neighbors, love of self are in our lives truly does allow us to blossom in the way that God wants us to flourish.
In the Rule of St. Benedict we find that the best way to true repentance is through humility. Not humiliation (which again would suggests again a lopsided love—love of God or others, but not love of self). St. Benedict rather speaks of humility. For Benedict, humility involves a healthy respect (or “fear) for God, a healthy respect for others, recognizing in each person we encounter the presence of Christ, balanced with a realistic self-assessment of oneself. Benedict devotes the seventh chapter—one of the longest chapters in his Rule—to his so-called 12-stepped ladder of humility. What this ladder of humility does is draw the attention away from an inordinate love of self only, back to the love of God and others as well as a healthy self-respect, all of which leads to an opportunity for true repentance and growth.
So, as we journey together through this season of Lent, toward the Cross, and beyond it to the Resurrection, let us do so with hearts truly freed. Let us do so with a true, freeing and healthy love in our hearts, having turned away from those things that are ultimately self-destructive. And let the love we feel be the guide for our actions. Through all of this, let us bring about the Kingdom into our midst slowly, but surely. Let the Kingdom come forth in our lives as blossoming fruit. And as it does, we will find ourselves echoing what our psalms sings to us this morning,
“My soul [will be] content with marrow and fatness*
and my mouth [will praise] you with joyful lips.”
Psalm 63.1-8; Luke 13.1-9
It is now the Third Sunday in Lent. And with it being Lent, it seems that confessional talk is “the thing to do.” So, being in a confessional sort of mood, I will confess something. Again, like many of the previous confessions I’ve made form this pulpit, I know this will come as a great shock to most of you, but, here goes…
I am a bit stubborn. I can be a bit set-in-my-ways regarding things.
Now, I know that this comes a shock to some of you, but hear me out… One of those areas that I seem to be worst is admitting sometimes that I am wrong about something. On a few occasions, I have been so certain I was right about an issue and another person was wrong that when I finally later fully realized that it was, in fact, I who was wrong and the other person right, rather than admitting I was wrong, I ended up becoming angry. I became angry at the other person, I became angry at the situation. And I became angry at myself.
Only when I was able to stop the anger and the stubbornness—only when I was able to shake myself out of my close-mindedness—was I was able to see the error of my ways and was finally able to admit my fault, forgive myself and move on. Doing this—admitting when we are wrong, admitting to ourselves (and to others) that we are wrong, and making an effort not to get stuck in this stubborn cycle—is really what repentance is all about.
In today’s Gospel, we hear Jesus say some very stern words to us:
“…unless you repent, you will all perish [just as those poor unfortunates whose blood was mingled with sacrifices and on whom the tower of Siloam fell].”
Not pleasant talk. And when we hear words like “repent” we instantly find ourselves heading into an uncomfortable area. We find ourselves exploring the territory of self-abasement. We find some people lamenting and beating their breasts or throwing ashes in the air over all of this talk. We have been taught for a large extent that what we are dealing with in all of this talk of repentance is that somehow God is going to punish us for all the wrongs we did and that is why we must repent—repent, of course, meaning turn around.
And at first glance in our Gospel reading that’s exactly what we might be thinking. God is angry and we must repent—we must turn away from what is making God so angry. But if we look a bit closer and if we really let this reading settle in, we find be able to use this idea of repentance in a more constructive way.
In our Gospel reading, we find Jesus essentially saying to us that we are not going to bear fruit if we have cemented ourselves into our stubborn way of seeing and believing. The kingdom that Jesus is constantly preaching about only comes into our midst, as we have heard again and again, when we can love God, love others and love ourselves. When we do—when we love—we bear fruit. When we don’t love—and it is hard to love when we are angry or stubborn or resentful—then we are essentially the fig tree that bears no fruit. And it’s important to see that this love needs to be spread equally. It is love for God, love for our neighbor and love for ourselves.
We are not bearing full fruit when we are only doing two of the three. The love becomes lopsided. If we love only God and ourselves, but not our neighbors, then we are in danger of becoming fanatical. If we love God and love our neighbors only and not ourselves, we become self-abasing. But if we strive to do all three—if we strive to love fully and completely—then we find ourselves being freed by that love.
And it is freeing. When we talk of our stubbornness, when talking of closing ourselves off in anger and frustration, we imagine that cementing feeling—that confinement. But when we speak of love, we imagine that cementing being feeling broken. We find ourselves freed from our confinement. We allow ourselves to grow and flourish.
That’s the point Jesus is making to us in our Gospel reading today. And that is why repentance is so essentially for our spiritual growth, for the health of our Christian community and for the furthering of the Kingdom in our midst. Repentance in this sense means turning away from our self-destructive behavior. The kingdom is not in our midst when we are not filled with love. The kingdom cannot be furthered by us or by anyone when we feel no love for God, when we feel no love for others and when we feel no love for ourselves. Repentance in this sense means to turn around—to turn away from our self-destructive behavior. Repentance in this sense means that we must turn around and start to love. Repentance in this sense means that by repenting—by turning around—we truly are furthering the Kingdom in our midst.
There’s also another aspect to the analogy Jesus uses in today’s Gospel reading. If you notice, for three years the tree didn’t bear fruit and so the man who planted the tree thought it was a lost cause. But the gardener protests. He gives the tree a bit of tender loving care and the tree begins flourishing. What I love about that is the fact that it says to us that none of us are lost causes. We all go through times in our lives when we feel as though we are bearing no fruit at all. We feel as though we are truly “wasting the soil” in which we live. Or, in the words of our Psalm today,
“my soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you
as in a barren and dry land where there is no water.”
We feel as though we are helpless and useless and that sometimes it feels as though the pains and frustrations of our lives have won. We have been cemented into our negative feelings and emotions. The pains and frustrations of this life have stifled in us any sense of new life and growth.
But that little dose of TLC was able to find in that seemingly barren tree new life. A little bit of love and care can do wonders. It can change things. It can give life where it was thought there was no possibility of life before. It can renew and it can revitalize.
At this time of year, we are probably made most aware of this. Certainly when we look around at our seemingly dead and barren landscape, we might think that nothing beautiful and or wonderful can come from all this dirty snow and slush and ice. It’s hard to imagine in the midst of March that spring—or better yet, summer—is not that far away. And in this season of Lent, when we are faced with all this language of seeking mercy, on recalling our failings and shortcomings and sins, in this stripped-bare church season, it is hard to imagine that Easter is just a few weeks away.
But, in a sense, that is what repentance feelings like. Repentance is that time of renewal and revitalization that comes from the barren moments in our lives. Repenting truly does help us to not only bear fruit, but to flourish. Repenting and realizing how essential and important love of God, love of our neighbors, love of self are in our lives truly does allow us to blossom in the way that God wants us to flourish.
In the Rule of St. Benedict we find that the best way to true repentance is through humility. Not humiliation (which again would suggests again a lopsided love—love of God or others, but not love of self). St. Benedict rather speaks of humility. For Benedict, humility involves a healthy respect (or “fear) for God, a healthy respect for others, recognizing in each person we encounter the presence of Christ, balanced with a realistic self-assessment of oneself. Benedict devotes the seventh chapter—one of the longest chapters in his Rule—to his so-called 12-stepped ladder of humility. What this ladder of humility does is draw the attention away from an inordinate love of self only, back to the love of God and others as well as a healthy self-respect, all of which leads to an opportunity for true repentance and growth.
So, as we journey together through this season of Lent, toward the Cross, and beyond it to the Resurrection, let us do so with hearts truly freed. Let us do so with a true, freeing and healthy love in our hearts, having turned away from those things that are ultimately self-destructive. And let the love we feel be the guide for our actions. Through all of this, let us bring about the Kingdom into our midst slowly, but surely. Let the Kingdom come forth in our lives as blossoming fruit. And as it does, we will find ourselves echoing what our psalms sings to us this morning,
“My soul [will be] content with marrow and fatness*
and my mouth [will praise] you with joyful lips.”
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