Third Sunday in Lent, 3/23/25

Sermon on Luke 13:1-9, by The Rev. Dr. Ryan Mills

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. ²He asked them, ‘Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? ³No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. ⁴Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? ⁵No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.’

6 Then he told this parable: ‘A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. ⁷So he said to the gardener, “See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?” ⁸He replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig round it and put manure on it. ⁹If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.”  (NRSV).

         In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

         Well there is nothing that grabs our attention like a “special news bulletin” on the radio or TV, or an urgent “push-alert” dinging on our phone, or the sound of a fire truck or ambulance siren growing closer and louder.  They rouse us from our slumber, they wake us up to an unexpected crisis, and they force us to respond in ways that determine our future.  About a decade ago, on a beautiful evening, Kathleen and I were visiting the home of a worshipper here at Trinity, when the carbon monoxide detector in her apartment starting going off, a talking alarm, no less, telling us: “Warning, Carbon monoxide detected!”  And how did we react?  We took out the batteries and turned it off, convinced on a beautiful night that that message was not for us, that there was nothing to worry about.  Our complacency was a big mistake, a big disaster, that led to multiple ER visits that night.  Today on this Third Sunday in Lent, in the midst of these forty days to be roused from our complacency and return to the Lord our God, we are alerted today to wake up to the disaster of our sin, and to return to the arms of our loving Heavenly Father. In fact it is Jesus who sounds the alarm about how precarious our situation is.  He alerts us to the emergency: that because we are so fragile, because we are so vulnerable–to repent before this brief candle of our little life is blown out.

         In the midst of the disasters and violence that have scarred us over these last years—from the pandemic to the war in Ukraine to the poor man in Waterbury cruelly locked away by his family for two decades—Jesus brings up in conversation today a couple of sobering headlines from the Jerusalem newspapers that everyone would have been talking about.  This is Jesus talking with his disciples about current events around the watercooler!  He begins by saying, “Did you hear about the slaying of the Galilean pilgrims, the worshipers who had come to Jerusalem to pray, only to have been killed by Pontius Pilate, to have had their own blood mixed in with the offerings they brought?”  It’s a terrible story of faithful folks killed while they worshipped God, it reminds us of the attack on worshippers several years ago at the Tree of Life Synagogue, one more instance of evil and unjust violence, and one that our fellow Christians around the world also experience every day–innocent blood shed for no reason by evil idolatrous people–it’s no wonder people talked about it.

But perhaps Jesus also sees in this disaster a foretaste of what will happen to him this Holy Week, of how he too will suffer under Pontius Pilate, of how he, a perfectly innocent man, will be made to suffer, and of how his blood will be mingled with every drop of blood shed unjustly and cruelly on our streets, and all around this world.  Jesus knows that as the beloved Son of God he will become an offering for all the sins of the world, he knows he will die for you, take your death upon him, and that his own precious blood will be shed under Pontius Pilate, he will suffer death and be buried–just like these poor nameless victims from Jerusalem, and just like the innocent victims we know and love.

         And if that’s not enough disasters for us this morning, Jesus continues, “Did you also hear about that tower of Siloam collapsing down?”  A building collapse that killed 18 people, a random accident, a roll of the cosmic dice that led to senseless death. Jesus asks us, “Do you think any of them were worse sinners than you?”  The old sinner in each of us always thinks we’re innocent but others are probably just getting what they deserve.  We wrongly think we’re immune from danger, and that others probably somehow deserved it.  But if we’re honest we know God did not specially punish them, otherwise why would he have not have specially punished us?! God does not desire the death of sinners, but rather that they turn to him and live.  But on the flip side, does it make us extra special that we are still here?  Do we have extra divine favor because we weren’t hit by a bus this morning?  No.  Jesus wants us to see how vulnerable our little life is, how short our time in this earthly life is, he warns us not to wait for big things to come to our senses, by then it’s too late, but to instead see how every moment is the right time to realize we are walking in the sight of God, and to awake to the riches of his grace, and make the most of the time we have been given!

Some of you remember our late church member “Buzz” who was killed by a car while riding his bicycle at Christmastime a number of years ago.  The day before it happened he was here for a worship service, and asked to speak to me in private afterwards.  Christmas was coming, and he wanted to celebrate the holiday with a clean heart, right with God and with his family.  So he asked to confess his sins in private and receive God’s promise of forgiveness, according to the service we have in the LBW.  I don’t think Buzz knew what would happen the next morning, but he knew what Jesus said today: that now and every moment he calls you to turn from your sins and return to him, believing in the Good News.  That now and every moment he calls and commands you to love him with all your heart and soul and mind and strength, and to love your neighbor as ourselves.  Look how fragile we all are!  Look how lovingly and strongly God calls to you. Look at the time you don’t have, and that gets shorter every second!  So don’t wait, who knows when your time will be?  Now is the time to turn and believe, to come to your senses and come home, to turn and live, Jesus says.  And if we don’t, Jesus says, won’t we ourselves perish?

            Just when we’re feeling some good Lutheran guilt about all this, Jesus then tells a parable: a story about his waiting, about his patience, about his love, a parable of hope.  He tells of a landowner expecting good things from his fig tree, and his waiting for that sweet, luscious, lovely fruit, but finding none.  “Get rid of the tree, cut it down,” he says!  “But Lord,” says the gardener, “let it alone for one more year, let me dig around it, fertilize it, care for it, do everything I can for it.  Next year, if it bears fruit how wonderful!—but if not, then you can cut it down!”

         Look at that gardener.  He knows it takes work to get something to grow!  His first thought isn’t, “Get out the pruning shears, grab a chainsaw, light up the bonfire, clear out the dead wood!  No, it’s “Grab the miracle grow, grab a load of manure, give me the watering can, I’ll do whatever I can do for that tree.”  So the parable asks us this morning, “What will happen to us, what will happen to you and me, the planting of the Lord, whom God calls to bear fruit: the fruit of faith he has planted within us, the fruit of love your neighbors need?  How much more can God do for us?  What more do you need or want that he hasn’t already generously provided?  What won’t he do to grow good fruit in you?  What is there he hasn’t given, all that you need every day—even his own Son, even his own life, his own body and blood, broken and shed for you?  Like a cliffhanger, the parable leaves us in mid-air with a desperate question: Will you and I hear in time?  Will we bear fruit, according to our callings, before our time is up? What do you think?

         Thanks be to God who gave his only Son for us to nourish us, fertilize us, and water us by his innocent suffering and death under Pontius Pilate, so that by his death we might live and have life eternal!  But warning, news alert, “ding!”: Now is the right time, before it’s too late: Believe in this Good News, change your thinking and direction and return to the Loving Arms of God that already hold you close and tight.  For He is growing in you good, sweet, delicious fruit: faith that is pleasing to God, and love that is useful for your suffering neighbor.

And the Peace of God which passes all understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

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The Rev. Dr. Ryan Mills

New Haven, Connecticut