To be a tree and a gardener - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Repent or Perish

13 At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. 2 He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? 3 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. 4 Or 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? 5 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

The Parable of the Barren Fig Tree

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. 7 So 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?’ 8 He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. 9 If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”

The summer before we got married, my husband and I spent a few weeks in Chicago, training to spend the year in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia for my pastoral internship. About halfway through our training, they talked to us about insurance, wills, and powers of attorney. I remember them saying that they try very hard to keep us safe overseas, but it costs a lot of money to bring your body back to the United States in the event that you die. That stuck with us. 

So the weekend after we got married, in all of our marital bliss and happiness, about five days before we left for my internship, we sat down with a lawyer friend and made sure we had all of our things in order. Even though we had no real “assets” to speak of, we wanted to make sure we knew what would happen if we died. 

I was reminded of that when our first baby was born. And again when our second was born. And now again as I see everything happening in the news in Ukraine. I am reminded that life is short. And unfair. 

This lament echoes the crowd’s from the gospel text this morning. Pilate had massacred Galileans recently. People are grieved. They don’t understand what is happening so they turn to Jesus. And Jesus replies with another story: one of 18 people who were killed in an accident when a tower fell on them.

These tragedies, like the ones we experience today, begin to turn the wheels of our minds and hearts. They made people feel anxious. The question on the crowd’s mind was, “why did these people die?” That’s often the question we ask when bad things happen, right? Why? 

We are so often asking “why?” 

Jesus replies that it is not a question of “why” they died, but that we will all die— perhaps not the most comforting of Jesus’ moments for these people who are deep in grief. But it does present us with another question: the question of how will we live in the meantime? 

Jesus is explicit in the story this morning— life is fragile and short. That means that what we do in the meantime matters. 

Lent is a time of preparation, a time of examining our lives, and ultimately, a time of repentance. That is what Jesus says in the text twice: “No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. No, I tell you; unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” 

Usually when I hear the word “repent,” I think about feeling really sorry for something, expressing regret for my faults and my sins, or even becoming more morally righteous. I should BE a better person if I’m truly repentant. And ultimately, I think about those preachers who stand up on milk crates on the green at UNF. I think they are concerned about how “good” we are on earth so that we don’t go to hell when we die. Of course, they define “good” and, probably, “hell.”  

But repentance is less about where we go when we die, and more about how we live our lives today. If sin is turning away from God’s grace and neighbor, repentance is actively turning TOWARD God’s grace and our neighbor. Repentance is about accepting and living into the fact that God has already saved us from the power of sin through Jesus life, death, and resurrection. 

When Jesus talks of “perishing,” here, he isn’t talking about some divine punishment in the afterlife. He means that when we deny God and God’s grace, we are not able to fully live into who we were created to be. Our souls are not whole. We perish in comparison to the abundant life we could be living in Christ.

In the parable, the tree is given time to bear fruit. This gracious gardener shows patience and mercy to the tree— but the gardener doesn’t just let the tree go by itself for one more year, he gives the tree everything it might need to flourish. The ground is dug up around the tree’s roots and manure is put down. The gardener gives extra attention to this tree to help it produce good fruit. 

God has given us an incredible opportunity to seize God’s graciousness in this life. But God does not leave us to our own devices to repent and be made new. As Jesus’ parable suggests, God gives us everything we need to flourish and produce good fruit: we are formed and reformed in baptism, nourished and fed in the holy meal, reminded of God’s goodness and love in God’s Word, enriched and cultivated with the liturgy. God has extended grace upon grace to God’s people through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ Jesus. 

And we are not called to bear fruit alone. We are gifted this community, and this week we celebrate the 65th anniversary of this parish. The saints here before us left their own legacies, in the examples of their faith, their gifts of planning and dreaming for this community— they are all a part of what is being cultivated here now. In the same way, we are given the opportunity not only to bear fruit today, but to be a part of what this community will grow to be. 

After worship today, we will hear about what it means to consider the parish in legacy planning. In other words, we will talk a bit about our own deaths. A grim subject to mark the 65th anniversary of the parish, perhaps, but also oddly appropriate for the season of Lent and for the scripture we heard here this morning. Because God calls us not only into goodness, love, community, and salvation in this life— but for all of eternity. 

We can be our own gardeners for the next 65 years of this place. Just like the saints who came before us had dreams and visions about what this community would be, we too can dream and prepare for the saints that come after us. Ensuring that they too have everything they might need to flourish and be vibrant bearers of God’s Kingdom, witnesses to the resurrection.   

Therefore, for the rest of this season of Lent, I invite us to examine those things that may cause us to perish— as a community and as individuals— and lift up the hope of what God has prepared us for— the eternal and everlasting grace that God in Christ Jesus has gifted us on the cross. So that we might both be a tree that bears good fruit, and a gardener to the next generations. Amen. 

Mountain-top Moments - Redeemer Episcopal Church

The Transfiguration

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”—not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

 

You can hear this sermon at this link, or read it below. 

God of transformation, God of transfiguration— be with us as we encounter you in the eucharist, in the face of our neighbors, in all of creation. Transform us into what we consume, the body of Christ. Amen. 

I have preached about the transfiguration of Jesus a couple of times now in my short tenure as a priest. It is often the last Sunday a rector might have for vacation before the chaos of Lent, so I have filled in quite often. And in each sermon, I have talked about the importance of these mountain-top moments that the disciples are experiencing in this story. 

Mountain-top moments are these moments where we encounter God— where God seems so close we can almost reach out and touch the divine. Or moments when God has so clearly given us instructions in a booming voice, helping us understand something profound, with the intimate knowledge that our lives will never be the same. 

These are the experiences of Moses, Peter, John, and James. These are the times these men can point back to in their lives and say, “there— that is when everything changed.” And of course, they would be talking about a literal mountain-top, when God quite literally spoke to them. 

For Moses, it was a time of conflict and need for God’s people. He found himself upon a mountain, encountering God, and bringing back for his people the laws that would define an entire culture of people for thousands of years to come. 

For Peter, James, and John— this mountaintop experience would mean that they could no longer deny what Jesus had been hinting at for a long time now— he was the son of God. He was the promised messiah. Everything changes when God’s people encounter the divine on the mountaintop. 

But the more I thought about these mountain-top moments this week, the more I thought about how… privileged they are. How.. rare. I had a friend who told me that God had spoken to her in a dream. And I thought about how lucky she must be that God chose her to speak to directly. Especially when I had been praying for answers from God for… well, my entire life. 

When people ask about God’s call in my life, when my students ask me when I have experienced God or how I know that God is real… I list off what sound more like a series of strange coincidences throughout my life instead of one big moment when I heard God’s booming voice telling me to become a priest. 

What about you? What does your experience of God look like? A booming voice or a special dream? Have you seen God face to face? Or can you trace God’s work in your life more like a ribbon being pulled along, quiet but sure? Or maybe you haven’t felt that tug of the divine in your life yet… 

I think many people’s experience of God are like that. Perhaps we shouldn’t be measuring ourselves in terms of whether we have or haven’t had a face to face encounter with God. After all, until this moment up on the mountain that we read about this morning, Peter, James and John had also never seen God quite so clearly or heard God’s voice quake from on high. 

But they HAD seen glimpses. 

They had been following Jesus around for quite some time, witnessing his healing, hearing his teaching, and beginning to understand who he was. They had seen him do miracles from the very beginning of him ministry, and they saw what happened when his teaching didn’t align with the powerful folks around them. All this time, they had been glimpses of the glory of God in Jesus. 

And then, up on this mountain, they saw the full glory of Jesus being transfigured and heard God claim Jesus as beloved son. But none of this was because James, John, and Peter were somehow better than any of the other disciples. It wasn’t because they had done something special or because they were more worthy. In fact, right after Peter sees Jesus transfigured, he fumbles around— insisting ridiculously that they should make shelters for the three men that he sees on the mountain. No, these three disciples are not more special or worthy than anyone else. They were fishermen and sailors and tax collectors, and other regular people that Jesus called to be his disciples. 

Seeing God face to face is not determined by who we are. Seeing God face to face is about who God is. God in all of God’s glory was so full of a never-ending love that God couldn’t help but come to earth and walk among us. So that we might see a glimpse of God. So that we might experience the healing and teaching and richness that is God in Christ Jesus. A glimpse of the glory that they witnessed on the mountain top. 

In the same way, Jesus’ never-ending love led him to the cross— not because of who we are nor because of our own worthiness, but because of who God is. Next week will begin that journey in the church year— Lent, when we come to understand exactly who our God is in Jesus— exactly how far God will go to be with us and love us. 

In a couple of minutes, we will come to this table to feast upon this holy meal, a meal in which Christ Jesus is present and enduring. A table that Jesus has set before all of us. And we will consume the body and blood of our Lord, understanding that in this act we are more than just God’s children, but bearers of God’s image. We are transformed into the body of Christ in the act of receiving it. All of us. And we recognize the divine in everyone we meet. Not because of who we are and our own worthiness, but because of who God is— the one who comes in glory to be here among us in Jesus, and here within us in this meal. 

And just as the disciples were able to see glimpses of God in Jesus as they traveled with him and followed him, we too are able to see glimpses of God when we turn to our neighbors and see the image of God in each other. 

This is what the glory of God in the transfiguration means for us today. That our worthiness or even our own understanding does not determine when God will reveal Godself. Because God already has— in mountain-top moments like the transfiguration, on Golgotha, and in the valleys and plains like in the healing stories, in the teaching and in the conversations with friend and neighbor. 

If we only experience God in the person of Jesus Christ, if we only see God face to face when we turn to our neighbors, if we only hear whispers and nudges, it is enough to transform us. It is enough to transfigure us if we allow it to. Those are our mountain-top moments. That is how encounter the divine. If we pay attention. If we recognize it. If we understand that it’s not about who we are, but about who God is, and who Jesus is— and we hear God’s command and we listen to him. Amen. 

Gospel Imagination - Redeemer Episcopal Church

He came down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. 19 And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.

Then he looked up at his disciples and said:

“Blessed are you who are poor,
    for yours is the kingdom of God.

“Blessed are you who are hungry now,
    for you will be filled.
“Blessed are you who weep now,
    for you will laugh.

“Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.

“But woe to you who are rich,
    for you have received your consolation.

“Woe to you who are full now,
    for you will be hungry.
“Woe to you who are laughing now,
    for you will mourn and weep.

“Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.

Read the sermon below or listen to it here. 

Let us pray. God of impossible things, be with us in this place as we imagine something new, as we imagine something better. As we imagine your kingdom. Amen.

An exercise or spiritual practice I like to do with my college students and on retreats is to encourage Gospel imagination. 

It is a pretty broad spiritual practice and can be used in many different ways, but the main idea is that we suspend what we know about the world today and we imagine a different way. We imagine what the world might look like according to the Gospel, when the Kingdom of God is fully present. 

It’s not always an easy spiritual practice. Oftentimes we are so bogged down in what is happening in the world, the suffering, the pain, the anger— that it is difficult to imagine a different way. But if we are able to sit in our imagination long enough, we might find reason to hope. 

That is a spiritual practice I am going to encourage in us this morning. Because this story is a difficult one to understand without gospel imagination.  

By the time Jesus comes down the mountain to the great group of people and begins teaching them, he has already had quite the adventure in Luke’s gospel. He has preached in his home, was run out of town; he had begun healing people and word got around that he might even be able to fix your business. Just last week we heard that he commanded some fishermen to put out their nets on the other side of their boat and they caught so many fish that their nets had started breaking. 

Apparently word was getting around about Jesus, because after he prayed on the mountaintop for some time, he comes down to the plain to be surrounded by people from all over the place— from Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. 

People had come to hear what he had to say— maybe he could teach them something important— and so that he might heal them of their diseases or cast out the unclean spirits that have been troubling them. And he did. It says that all in the crowd were trying to touch him, and instead of hiring a couple of bodyguards to keep people from pressing in on him, he allowed the power to come out from him and he healed all of them. 

That feels important. Jesus didn’t select a couple of people to be examples of healing like it seems he does in other stories. No, this time he heals everyone. Everyone in the crowd had something that needed healing and Jesus healed all of them. 

And then he began to teach. 

Most of us have heard the beatitudes enough that they don’t feel as shocking anymore. And perhaps where we heard and understood ourselves within these beatitudes is different today than it would have been last week or last year or ten years ago. Perhaps we are feeling more like the rich these days. Or maybe because of a recent diagnosis, we join the crowd pressing in on Jesus, asking for healing, weeping and waiting for laughter. 

Or perhaps we have always kind of felt situated in the “woe” category. After all, most of us were able to have breakfast this morning, we have probably laughed sometime this week, and by most measurements compares to the rest of the world— we would be called rich. So maybe hearing Jesus’ teaching gives us a tinge of guilt, like some of his other teachings always seem to. 

Or maybe we ignore this passage— we put it in the same file with all of the other stuff Jesus says about rich and poor and hungry and full people. You know, all that good Christian advice that no one we know personally has ever followed. 

A dear pastor Barbara Brown Taylor points out, though, that none of this is advice. When Jesus is giving commands, it is pretty hard to mistake it for anything else. “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you”— that is advice. Those are commands. 

That is not what Jesus is saying here. There is no advice, there are no commands in Jesus’ teaching here. 

What Jesus is doing as he stands on the flat ground among all of these people he has just healed, is using his gospel imagination. He stands among healed and whole people and proclaims that the Kingdom of God will be different than what they have experienced in this world. 

The beatitudes don’t tell us what to do. They tell us who we are, and more importantly, they tell us who Jesus is. 

Jesus is the one who will bring about these reversals of expectation as the Kingdom of God breaks into all of creation. Can we imagine that? 

Jesus is the one who will finally bring all people to a level plain— where none will be too rich at the expense of those who are poor. Where none will be clothed at the expense of those who are naked. Where none will be in power at the expense of those imprisoned. Can we imagine that? 

Can we imagine a world in which we shut down our food pantry because there are no more hungry people? Where we stop our grief-share programs because there is no more sorrow? A world where Rethreaded has to change their mission because human trafficking is a thing of the past? Can we imagine a world where there is no more wage gap? No more food deserts? No more homelessness? 

Perhaps all of this feels impossible to imagine. Maybe our gospel imagination can’t stretch that far just yet.

But Paul reminds us that we proclaim an impossible thing every single day. We worship a God who came to earth as a baby from a virgin mother, walked among us for 30 years and healed, fed, and clothed people from all over the land. We worship a God who was crucified by the authorities who couldn’t comprehend the amount of love he was bringing into the world. 

And after three days, he was raised from the dead. And if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead— an impossible thing— can we imagine more impossible things? If we truly believe that Christ has been raised from the dead and lives among us as the Holy Spirit in and around each one of us— can we believe more impossible things? Can we imagine a different way? Can our imagination then influence our actions as we participate in and hope for the Kingdom of God? 

Amen.