March 4, 2010
As is often the case in the run-up to war, nations and their patriots will attempt to stir the sympathies of fellow citizens by casting their enemies in the most negative light possible.  Even if it means sacrificing truth on the altar of national pride, plenty of examples abound where we see people’s patriotism prompting them to act in ways that they normally would not. 

Whether it is as recent as falsehoods regarding weapons of mass destruction in Iraq or as ancient as an overzealous Roman provincial leader in Jesus’ Israel, the fact is that the human race often falls victim to people’s attempts to prey on our nationalistic sympathies.

The preacher whose sermon we have recorded in the book of Hebrews wrote that Jesus is able to sympathize with us in our weakness; that he “in every respect has been tested as we are” (4:15).  Yet, the preacher points out, “he was without sin.”

That truth comes to light quite clearly in this Sunday’s Gospel reading (Luke 13:1-9).  Some bystanders who had been listening to the Galilean carpenter-turned-proclaimer approached him.  They were among some of his fellow countrymen.  They wanted to get Jesus’ take on the atrocities enacted by Governor Pilate.  It seems (there is no historical evidence of this apart from Luke’s telling in the Gospel story) that the Roman leader issued the order for his occupying forces to cut down some of Jesus’ neighbors.  They were slaughtered in cold-blooded fashion.

To make the horror even more horrifying, they were killed in the holiest place on earth: the Temple in Jerusalem!  These Galileans’ blood was mixed in with the blood of the sacrifices offered up on the altar of worship.  The sanctity of the space had been shattered.  The kind of outrage that would have been awakened in Jesus’ inquisitors might be like that which we feel when, all too frequently, the news headlines flash that there has been a(nother) church shooting somewhere.  Is no place sacred or safe any longer?

The Galileans who go to Jesus seem intent on stirring up the man who would soon enough be hailed as their king.  Perhaps he would end his campaign to wage peace in the world and hurry to start acting like a real leader ought to act: gather up his gumption, show some force, and get back at these aggressors. 

But Jesus will not be party to any kind of party-line patriotism.  He certainly does not excuse the Romans their actions against the Galileans.  But neither does the man who elsewhere preached “Love your enemies and pray for those persecute you” (Matthew 5:44) issue a call to arms.  Instead, Jesus summons his audience to understand that life is a fragile thing.  There are no guarantees of our safety and security.  There are hardly any promises that hold true, save that there is next to nothing that is certain.

Some might see Jesus dodging the issue or showing a weak, impractical side to his approach at life here.  I, for one, disagree.  This is no weak-kneed, spineless Jesus.  This is a man who is fiercely resolved to cut to the heart of things in the human race.  He uses the occasion of a tragedy to issue a reminder to any and to all who have ears to hear: there are bigger concerns in this world than who did what to whom.  Pay attention to your life and the way that you live it, he says, because there is no telling how much longer you are going to get to go at it.

How, then, shall we be remembered?  As vengeful and merciless people who are bent on getting revenge for every wrong ever done to us?  As ones who harbor hatred and have neatly drawn lines of division that delineate who our friends and enemies are?  Or as people who grasp the reality that life is too short to waste our energy on so many of the things that wind up consuming us?  Are we among those who understand that we might be standing before our Maker at a moment’s notice?

Jesus follows the exchange with his questioners with a parable about a fig tree that is given just a little longer to live its life and to bear its fruit.  The parable prompts us to ask deep and important questions; good questions to consider in a season given to reflection on things that really matter.

Alan Culpepper captures the essence of it all.  “What would you do if you had only a year left to live, only a short time in which to make up for wrongs done and opportunities missed?  How important might that year be!  The lesson of the fig tree is a challenge to live each day as a gift from God.  Live each day in such a way that you will have no fear of giving an account for how you have used God’s gift.”

Peace to you,
Stephen