"Blessed Hunger, Holy Feast" God Pours out Life-giving Drink – Lydia Harder – March 11/07

“The beginning of Lent passed me by this year! I had thought about fasting, but never got around to making definite plans. Yes, I received that devotional guide, JD, that you sent around, but never got around to actually reading it! And that healing journey I was going to begin by entering a time of repentance and renewal just never got started! And the time I was going to spend visiting the sick and lonely… well, you know how it is. . .And now we are already in the middle of Lent and its really too late. . .for this year.  Perhaps next year when there will be fewer pressures, perhaps when we retire! Then I will take time for reflection, for confession, for renewal of life’s purposes.”

Actually Michele Rizoli suggested a rather comforting response to these feelings. She told me about a friend who thought that she would give up guilt for Lent! Doesn’t that sound appealing?

I own these thoughts because again, this year I have felt some sense of guilt at not being able to make more time for focusing on the passion of Christ, its impact on my own life and the larger purpose of my life under God. And each Sunday in Lent with its reminder to repent creates more guilt in face of the many challenges of daily life that I cannot seem to meet with more joy and strength.  And so I move rather quickly to God’s understanding and love for me, a much more comforting thought.

But the texts for today strongly challenge this superficial kind of repentance. They are not content to deal merely with the symptoms of our need! Instead they speak about thirsting and longing, about hunger for God. They remind us of the emptiness and need that can not easily be satisfied with religious platitudes and nice words. And they challenge me directly by suggesting that by focusing on the twinges of guilt I feel, I am only hiding the much deeper longing and emptiness and hunger that I often do not wish to reveal–even to myself. For Lent is not simply about fasting, or praying or reading the Bible in a kind of formulaic way.  Instead, it is about my refusal to honour that deep hunger and thirst and longing for God that will only be satisfied with the living stream of God’s grace. It is this basic sin that calls out for repentance!

Today’s text from Luke 13 is not one of my favorite texts, but I felt drawn to it this time. I remember a choir anthem that we used to sing when I was a teenager that retold this story of the gardener and the tree.  The words “cut it down, the unfruitful tree” as rendered in German came through particularly strongly. “Hau ihn ap, Hau ihn ap: den unfruchtbaren Baum!” They connected with the guilt I was already struggling with, a guilt that accused me of not having the right kind of spiritual experience, of not witnessing enough, of generally not being OK in God’s eyes.  And it connected to a somewhat irrational but hidden fear of death and the end-times, fostered by some of the teachings I received in the Christian high school I attended.

But this week, I began to look at this text more closely and found new hope and encouragement as I read it as we have it in our bulletin, especially as placed alongside the words from Jeremiah 17.

We only read a short portion of the Luke text, so I want to read the whole section but set it into a bit of a context.  Jesus is beginning the journey toward Jerusalem. He is at the height of popularity with the crowd but also drawing ever closer to a confrontation with the religious leaders. In the previous chapter we have a crowd “gathering by the thousands” while in the next chapters we have indignant leaders, confronting Jesus for healing a woman crippled for 18 years on the Sabbath.   

In these middle chapters it is becoming increasingly clear that Jesus is not a great politician. Instead of capitalizing on his popularity, Jesus’ sayings are becoming more and more confrontive, not at all comforting. Some in the crowd are realizing that this is not what they had hoped for from this up and coming leader. Sayings like the following do not go down easily with the crowd. “Whoever denies me before others will be denied before the angels of God” or “Be on guard against all kinds of greed. . .for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions” or “Sell your possessions and give alms…for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” or “from anyone to whom much has been given; much will be required”.

The previous chapter can be summed up with Jesus’ final sayings to the crowd:  “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, “It is going to rain” and so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing , you say, ‘There will be scorching heat, and it happens. You hypocrite, you know how to interpret the weather but you do you not know how to interpret the present time!”

Jesus is telling the crowd: “You are not great interpreters of life as you have been experiencing it! You do not know the signs of the time! You do not expect judgment and yet all the signs are there. Why do you not stop all that striving and begin to reflect on your own lives: Your lives are often empty and meaningless though you are busy with many activities. The treasures you are working for will gather dust and rust and not make you content. That frantic running after rewards will not make you happier. Judge for yourself!  Someday you will die and your life will be transparent before God.”

And so the words have been spoken.  Jesus is warning the crowd that judgment is coming. If they do not judge themselves, someday their lives willbecome open before God. And the good image they have polished will no longer cover their brokenness.

And how do the people respond to these strong words? Like many of us would. They try to move the conversation on to other things, to other people, attempting to deflect it from becoming too personal, too directly focused on their own lives. They revert to what they already know about judgment and quickly turn to their built-in security system. After all everyone knows that punishment and judgment follow sinful actions. And therefore suffering is a sign of judgment! Which means that the people who suffer are the worst sinners- – -like those others— the ones recently killed by Pilate, for example. Let me read from the beginning of chapter 13.

“At the very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all the other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all of the others living in Jerusalem? No, you will all perish just as they did.”

There is a subtext here that we in our modern day may not grasp.  The crowd is turning to current events in order to show Jesus that the relationship of guilt and punishment does work. The Galileans were receiving their just reward for their actions. Suffering does follow guilt! The Galileans, that is some pilgrims from the north, whom Pilate had killed while they were sacrificing, probably deserved their punishment. That is what they had always heard and understood from the Scriptures.  But Jesus quickly dispels this kind of easy fix-it for their guilt. Comparing themselves to others does not work.   So he uses an example that does not fit their rule. You certainly cannot argue that the eighteen people who were killed accidentally, when the tower of Siloam fell on them, were guilty! The rule does not compute! Those others are not worse offenders than you! All of you are equal when it comes to guilt! Comparing one to the other in terms of sin does not work. Judgment will comes to everyone!

While working on this sermon, my computer came up with the notice: “You are no longer protected. Your security system needs updating. You are in danger of infection by viruses. Click here to install a new security system now.”  And of course, I did, even before continuing to work on my sermon. The fear of viruses or worms infecting my computer was too great. The knowledge that some of my information could be used illegally if I was not protected was too frightening a thought. And besides, I did not want to deal with the spam that would clog up my email. And so I acted quickly. I installed the McAffee security system with its great promises of security for all my files.  My fear was gone, for now! My future files, even those I had not yet written, were secured, though doubts still sometimes nag in my subconscious.

This image came to mind as I read the text. Like the crowd we know how to deal with guilt. We have an installed security system that kicks in when someone hints of judgment. From our childhood we have heard judgment spoken to us and have found ways to deal with it. Some are helpful, when words of forgiveness kick in, others help us deal with the symptoms of our guilt, but without going to the source of the problem. But this image suggests that these built in security systems are often rule related, are often there to protect us from the effects of our actions, to cover guilt rather than to deal with the underlying problem. Our conscience is like a security system in a computer. Though it cannot deal with the basic issues that create security needs, it can deal with the symptoms. And it can warn us of judgment.

We, of course, are usually too sophisticated and rational to think that sinfulness and suffering are related.  Instead we compare ourselves to others in terms of how much good we do, or how simply we live in comparison to others or how faithfully we attend church or how honest we are or the kind of suffering we have had to endure in our own childhood and growing up. And we can point to many others who live with worse morals that we do.  But these security systems that we have installed deeply within us lead only to a deflecting of the viruses and worms that threaten to infect our being. We continue to fear judgment, we continue to feel guilt, we continue to hide under an image of a successful life. In reality, we function only at a minimum level of our true potential.  The notion of an “abundant and full life” seems out of reach. And sometimes we hear only the words of judgment: Your computer cannot be fixed. It is infected beyond repair.  You are only worthy to be destroyed.

            But in our text, Jesus replaces this image with another— the image of a growing tree and of a gardener pleading for more time for an unproductive tree. “Let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it.”

A picture comes to my mind from childhood days.

My Dad is walking around the orchard on a Sunday afternoon. During the week Dad was busy picking fruit, packing fruit and bringing it to market. But on Sunday afternoons, he would walk more leisurely around the farm knowing that he would not do any actual work since he conscientiously observed the Sabbath. I do suspect he was planning his week’s work! Yet, the pace was different, the mood quiet and reflective. Sometimes Mom joined him and they would talk about the trees. “Look at this peach tree. It is only three years old and already has a large crop of peaches on it”. Or “what is going wrong with this tree? I wonder if I removed that large branch with the yellowing leaves, perhaps it would be able to fight the disease that seems to be overcoming it.” Or  “ This part of the orchard needs more fertilizer to really produce. Next spring I am going to use the full manure spreader on it!!”  Especially in fall, when the crop was done, in those mellow autumn days, Dad would be busy evaluating the trees and their growth.  Dad knew his trees, he knew when it was time for judgment, when it was time for a large dose of water and manure, he knew when the tree needed pruning and when it needed to be cut down. Dad was a good farmer.

The gardener in the parable of the fig tree planted in the vineyard was also a good farmer. He knew what it takes to have a successful orchard. The trees in the parable are fig trees, not the quick growing trees that peach trees are but the slower grow
ing trees. Often these were planted amidst the quicker growing vineyards. These trees are not cut down quickly without deep consideration.  Though the owner of the vineyard wonders about the practicality of saving the tree for another year, the gardener wants to try one more time. He will dig around the tree, he will water it and give it the necessary fertilizer. Perhaps the tree will respond to this care and bring forth fruit.

The gardener takes on his side of the responsibility for the fruit-bearing. He will make sure that the opportunities are there for growth. But the tree itself must respond to this care. The tree must use it roots to soak up the life giving drink.

And this takes us to the Jeremiah passage—to the image of a living tree planted by a stream. The life-giving water is there in abundance. All the tree has to do is reach out with its roots and draw in the life giving power. It is not afraid, or filled with guilt or worried where its food will come from. Instead it sends out its roots, knowing that the supply of water is secure.

I t seems to me that the text is challenging us this Lenten season to give up two things:  our false images of ourselves as innocent and our inner inadequate security systems that want to cover for our guilt. Instead, the text challenges us to reach out in real repentance to that stream that flows abundantly for us. For this kind of repentance does not begin with ourselves and our guilt. It begins with God’s everflowing stream of life-giving water. It begins with the caring of the gardener for the tree. It begins with the love of God overflowing for us through Jesus’ own life, death and resurrection.  

True repentance begins when we tentatively taste of that stream of water and realize that it satisfies. For it is then that we recognize our thirst for what it is; we begin to understand that our sinful actions and missed opportunities are symptoms of our emptiness and longing for God. And transformation of life begins as we send our roots more deeply into this water of life. Fruit-bearing is then a natural consequence and not a frantic turning to a security system that does not provide real safety from judgment.

I am already looking forward to Easter Sunday when we will have a baptism service. Signs of God continuing to pour out his life-giving water over our congregation are everywhere. Let us therefore repent and open ourselves deeply to that water during this Lenten season, both individually and as a congregation.

Psalm 63 is a fitting prayer for us as we confess both our confidence in God and our own thirst for that water of life.

“O God, you are my God. I seek you; My soul thirsts for you.

My flesh faints for you, as in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water.”

We begin with God, acknowledging that God has been there since our childhood, searching for us. “You are my God.”  You are the source of Life. With that opening confession of faith we are ready to acknowledge that we are thirsty, we can confidently confess that we are needy, that we hunger for abundant life as in a dry and thirsty land. 

“So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory.”

A simple sentence acknowledging that the God’s presence has been there within the sanctuary, within this community of God, within the many situations and places where we have sensed God’s presence.  The opportunity to see God’s power and glory has been there for us.  For me the most recent opportunity came with the sharing of the faith stories of our new members. Yes, we have seen God’s power. But it is not a fearful power. The sting has gone out of judgment.

Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you. So I will bless you as long as I live; I will lift up my hand and call on your name.

The turn to praise comes quickly, but not in a superficial way. God’s steadfast love is so satisfying that prayer and praise come naturally to our lips.

My soul is satisfied with a rich feast, and my mouth praises you with joyful lips when I think of you on my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; for you are my help and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.

 Lenten meditation and reflection no longer come as a duty or as a response to guilt but rather out of Thanksgiving for the feast received, the water of life bubbling up within us.

The Psalm goes on to speak about the enemies who seek to destroy us, the liars who would bring accusations against us, who would judge us.  But the one who prays Psalm 63 until this point is no longer afraid. Fear of judgment has changed to joy, frantic calls on our old security systems have shifted to Thanksgiving. We can exult in God as we reach deeply into that water of life freely given to us. And so we can gladly join the Psalmist:

“Oh God you are my God! We shall rejoice in You forever! Amen.