Sermons

“One More Year”

Isaiah 55:1-9; Luke 13:1-9 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – March 24, 2019

 Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words that we might humble our hearts and seek you in all things.  In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

Plenty of things have taken place in the past couple weeks that could cause us to wonder why terrible things have to happen. A plane crash, a school collapsing, massive flooding in Nebraska and other states, and then this devastating cyclone in Mozambique, Malawi and Zimbabwe.  It’s not hard to see how someone might imagine God is angry.  Or that people are being punished.

We’ve been spending Lent with some of the hardest, chronic issues within our society: migration, climate change, gun violence, military & veteran suicide, foster care and homelessness.  People are going through horrible, awful things.  Again and again, we’re prodded to wonder “Whatever did they do to deserve this?”

As is often the case with theological conundrums, it turns out we’re asking the wrong question.  While scripture doesn’t really have a definitive answer for why bad things happen, Jesus has a clear response to the question of whether people deserve the bad things that happen to them.  Were they worse sinners than the rest of us?  Jesus says No.  And because he’s Jesus, he then tells us a story.  Are you ready for some more creative thinking?  Sometimes we’re sheep.  Last week we were chickens.  This week we’re trees.  Fig trees, to be precise.

How much do you know about fig trees?  From as much as they’re mentioned in the Bible, you get the sense that people ate a lot more figs back then than most of us do now. Growing up in the Midwest, my first introduction to figs involved the dried kind.  I didn’t find them all that appealing.  But after I’d moved to Alabama, I met someone with a fig tree and had a fresh fig for the first time.  And then I came here to California, and eventually I discovered that I really enjoy figs!  They might take some getting used to, but I would be happy with a diet that involved a biblical level of figs.

Now that we’ve established a basic appreciation for figs, let’s take a look at this story more closely.  Because there are some things in here that don’t add up, and they can teach us something important.  I’m definitely not a gardener, but a cursory google search taught me enough to poke holes in the approach this vineyard owner took to his trees.  First of all, his timeline is entirely unreasonable. The fig tree is only three years old, and he’s demanding it be cut down because it doesn’t have fruit yet.  The earliest a fig tree will make figs is two years, but for most of them, it’s more like four or five years.  If this guy got his way, he’d plant a tree every two or three years and then cut them down before they had a chance to give him fruit.  And what would he end up with?  No fruit!

This timing issue, of course, isn’t really a lesson in farming.  It’s a lesson in grace.  The first question we need to ask when we’re frustrated with someone, or with ourselves, is whether our demands are reasonable.  Are our children old enough to understand the nuances of the issue we’re trying to discuss? Does the person at the office who’s so irritating have the resources to respond any differently?  Are you really the one person in the world who can do all the things without any downtime?  Is it truly a failure to have emotions?  Is your child trying to push all your buttons, or are they just a different person than you expected your progeny to be?  Trees or people – none of us can be what we are not, at least not for any length of time. And all of us people are mortal beings with limitations and weaknesses.

My second issue with this story might not be fair, because it’s probably a throw-away line.  But it’s in there.  The vineyard owner is complaining about the thus-far fruitless tree, and he says, “Why should it be wasting the soil?”  Now I’m sure some of you master gardeners could teach me things about nutrients and the most efficacious ways to get the most out of the dirt you have.  I’m sure there are so-called “weeds” that you consider a “waste of soil”.  But really? “Wasting soil?”  Given the semi-arid nature of Israelite vineyards, it might have made sense to ask why it should be wasting water.  But soil?  He’s not going to have more dirt if they cut the tree down.

There are two possibilities here:  either this man has a serious misunderstanding of the nature of God’s abundant grace as expressed in creation, or he’s just mean.  Maybe it’s both.  But he’s not alone, is he?  We do this. We do it to others, and we do it to ourselves.  You’ve heard the insult that someone is a “waste of space”.  That’s no different than this.  It’s just as silly and just as mean.

Finally, let’s look at the other character in the story. The gardener responds to the vineyard owner’s demand to cut the tree down with an alternate plan, right?  “Let me dig around it, give it some air, and fertilize it with some good manure, and then let’s see how it’s doing in another year.” Do you know what I read on the internet? This is a word-for-word quote: “There is nothing you can do to speed up the rate a tree matures at.”  Of course, this gardener didn’t have the internet, so maybe he didn’t know that.  Or maybe that’s not the point.  What if he’s not giving the fig tree extra manure because he thinks that would help it bear fruit sooner?  What if the point is that when we’re at our least productive and feeling vulnerable is when God most wants to surround us with comfort and nourishment and care?

All three of these threads from the story, when pulled loose, turn out to be connected to the point made more succinctly in our reading from Isaiah.  “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.”  Terrible things happen, and our thoughts go to cause and blame, but where is God’s heart? Weeping with those who mourn, and sheltering those left homeless.  Goals aren’t met, and we’re ready to fire people and move on, but where is God’s heart? Looking for manure.  We’re feeling broke and dejected and worthless, ready to admit we’re wasting space, but where is God’s heart?  Offering us wine and milk without price and the kind of bread that truly satisfies.

It’s funny how hard it is for us to understand grace. We think of it as one of the greatest gifts of God, so then we assume that it should be for the most worthy.  But that’s completely missing the point!  God’s grace is for the unproductive, the seemingly barren tree, the chicken that scratches, the sheep that gets its hoof caught in the rocks, the ones who have no money for wine, the wicked and unrighteous, the ones wasting space.  There’s a reason this story Jesus told doesn’t have an ending.  Because what do you think is going to happen next year?  I mean, maybe that tree will bear fruit.  But in year four, chances are about 50/50 that it won’t.  And what do you think that gardener is going to do?  He probably can’t use the same story about manure.  But he could point out that if they planted another tree, it would still be at least another two years before they have any figs.

You’re going to get one more year, every year.  And maybe you’re even going to get a special manure treatment, whether you need it or not.  Can you imagine giving yourself one more year?  Accepting one more year?  We do Lent every year, and it’s supposed to prepare us for Easter.  And maybe it works, and maybe it doesn’t. But do you know what Jesus is going to say, when he’s risen and sizing you up in that garden?  Do you know what he’s going to do, when he sees that your figs are tiny and hard and not very juicy?  He’s going to say “one more year, my child, one more year.”  He’s going to give you that, and he’s going to ask you to spread the news.  He’s going to invite you to share with the world the kind of grace that doesn’t aim to pin blame but works together to pick up the pieces and provide comfort. One more year.  Always one more year.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.