Sunday, March 24, 2025 – Lent 3
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Luke 13:1-9
At that 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 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 the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”
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. 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?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”
The word “repent” is often used as a weapon. And one I’ve had used against me more than once. And so, knowing first-hand the pain and misunderstanding that this little word can cause, I have avoided its use for most of my ministry.
But lots of people seem to like it. You can find preachers and lay people railing against one thing or another, one person or another, in pulpits and sidewalks and subway cars.
When we lived in New York, I took the subway everywhere, multiple times a day. On the day in question, the train was exceedingly crowded. But I was an expert at sliding into the smallest places. And I knew that if I worked my way into the center of the car, there would be more room. There always is. You see, folks like to stand close to the doors so they can get off easily at their stop.
So, I pushed my way in and worked my way to the center where I could grab hold of a pole. I was shoulder-to-shoulder, cheek to jowl with my fellow New Yorkers. But never mind. New Yorkers have a practiced way of being exceedingly close to someone else while still completely ignoring them.
But there was one man, holding the same pole as I was, who would prove to be very hard to ignore. With one hand, he held the pole. And with the other, he held a large Bible. And I knew what was about to happen.
Suddenly, in a voice that could wake the dead, and only inches from my ears, he let loose. And the more he preached, the louder he got. And the louder he got, the more the people in the train ignored him. And the more they ignored him, the more urgent and angry his message became. And the one word he used over and over again was “Repent.”
Well, I was trapped like a rat, and that made me angry. And there he was, using that word as a weapon, and that made me angry too. The train rattled through station after station and still the man continued to bellow. And it took every bit of self-control I had to not go at him preacher-to-preacher. You see, I strenuously objected to his method and his style and his volume. I wanted to shout in his face: “Jesus would never talk to people like this!” And I don’t think Jesus ever did. But that little word - well, Jesus did use it. And in the case of today’s lesson, it wasn’t just “repent.” It was “repent or perish.”
One day, some people told Jesus about an awful thing that had happened. Pilate, the Roman governor, had slaughtered a group of Galilean Jews right inside the Temple of God. And what’s more, in their assassinations, he had mixed their human blood with the sacrificial animal blood used in the Temple rituals. When the people told Jesus this news, they likely hoped that he would answer the age-old question: why do bad things happen to good people?
Scholars refer to this as “theodicy” – a fancy word that means “the problem of evil.” In other words, how are we to make sense of random suffering if God is indeed powerful and loving? It’s an excellent question and one I’ve been seeking to answer for most of my life. Let me know if you figure it out.
Jesus had the perfect opportunity to explain it all in response to this story about Pilate’s bloody brutality. But he didn’t. Instead, Jesus asked another question: “Do you think that they were worse sinners than anyone else and that this was a punishment?” Most folks did think that then. And lots of folks think it now. It’s a way we try to make sense of suffering, by seeing it as cause and effect. Until, of course, the bad thing happens to us.
But then Jesus answered his own question with a one-word response: “No,” he said. And then he continued: “But unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.”
And then for good measure, Jesus brought up another example of random suffering. A tower over in Siloam had suddenly collapsed. And it killed eighteen people. “What that their fault?” Jesus asked. “No,” he replied. “But unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.”
Now at first glance, that second part does sound a little bit like cause and effect, right? “Repent or you will likewise perish.” Except that Jesus was really clear that random suffering is not some kind of divine punishment. There is no cause and effect. So then, what could he have meant when he said “Repent or you will likewise perish”?
Well, before we get there, let’s back up a bit and talk about repentance. What is it? To repent is not to collapse into a pool of self-recrimination. And it’s not thinking that you are an awful person. And we don’t repent in order to make God love us. God adores us – warts and all. To repent, from the Bible’s point of view, is simply this: to turn and walk in a new direction. It’s a change of course, a change of mind, a change of life - that many time avoids needless suffering.
Repent or perish, Jesus said. And then he told a story, that at first seems like a non-sequitur. A landowner had a fig tree that for three years bore no fruit. This frustrated the landowner because the tree wasn’t living up to its purpose or potential. And so, the landowner said to the gardener, “Chop it down. It’s wasting soil.”
But the gardener saw the potential in the little tree. The gardener believed that, with enough time and attention, it could bear good fruit. And so, he said to the landowner, “Sir, give it another year. Let me dig around and fertilize and love and nurture this little tree. I bet that with the right kind of care, it will live a better life and bear fruit.”
Well, maybe the landowner is God. And maybe the gardener is Jesus. And maybe the underperforming fig tree is me. But the gardener sees my potential. And so, the gardener asks for more time to love and care for me so that I might change and fulfill my potential.
Jesus did not answer the big question about why there is suffering. He just seemed to assume its existence. But he does ask another exceedingly important question. And it’s simply this: in a world of random suffering, why do you want to add even more suffering to your life by the way you live? Repent or that’s what will happen.
And that makes Jesus’s call to repentance, an act of love. Because in this beautiful but broken world, there is the suffering that we cannot avoid. And there is the suffering that we can avoid - the kind we bring on ourselves, by our unwillingness to change those things that hurtle us toward disaster.
For example, does anyone in this room actually believe that being dug in and refusing to compromise and seeing politics as a zero-sum game will actually save this country that we all love? We must repent. We must change our minds. We must change our direction… or we will perish.
Does anyone in this room actually believe that the grudges and the anger and the vitriol that we nurse and feed will not in the end eat us alive? Do we believe that cruelty and avarice and bold-face lies will not come back to haunt us? Do we actually believe that this good earth will always recover from our abuses? Repent or perish. The choice is ours.
Grim, I know. But then there’s the Gospel. We have a gardener who is very patient and very skilled at making us bloom and grow. We have a gardener who advocates for us to the landowner, asking, again and again, for more time for amendment of life. We have a gardener who knows that we can bear fruit worthy of repentance.
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Luke 13:1-9
At that 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 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 the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”
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. 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?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”
The word “repent” is often used as a weapon. And one I’ve had used against me more than once. And so, knowing first-hand the pain and misunderstanding that this little word can cause, I have avoided its use for most of my ministry.
But lots of people seem to like it. You can find preachers and lay people railing against one thing or another, one person or another, in pulpits and sidewalks and subway cars.
When we lived in New York, I took the subway everywhere, multiple times a day. On the day in question, the train was exceedingly crowded. But I was an expert at sliding into the smallest places. And I knew that if I worked my way into the center of the car, there would be more room. There always is. You see, folks like to stand close to the doors so they can get off easily at their stop.
So, I pushed my way in and worked my way to the center where I could grab hold of a pole. I was shoulder-to-shoulder, cheek to jowl with my fellow New Yorkers. But never mind. New Yorkers have a practiced way of being exceedingly close to someone else while still completely ignoring them.
But there was one man, holding the same pole as I was, who would prove to be very hard to ignore. With one hand, he held the pole. And with the other, he held a large Bible. And I knew what was about to happen.
Suddenly, in a voice that could wake the dead, and only inches from my ears, he let loose. And the more he preached, the louder he got. And the louder he got, the more the people in the train ignored him. And the more they ignored him, the more urgent and angry his message became. And the one word he used over and over again was “Repent.”
Well, I was trapped like a rat, and that made me angry. And there he was, using that word as a weapon, and that made me angry too. The train rattled through station after station and still the man continued to bellow. And it took every bit of self-control I had to not go at him preacher-to-preacher. You see, I strenuously objected to his method and his style and his volume. I wanted to shout in his face: “Jesus would never talk to people like this!” And I don’t think Jesus ever did. But that little word - well, Jesus did use it. And in the case of today’s lesson, it wasn’t just “repent.” It was “repent or perish.”
One day, some people told Jesus about an awful thing that had happened. Pilate, the Roman governor, had slaughtered a group of Galilean Jews right inside the Temple of God. And what’s more, in their assassinations, he had mixed their human blood with the sacrificial animal blood used in the Temple rituals. When the people told Jesus this news, they likely hoped that he would answer the age-old question: why do bad things happen to good people?
Scholars refer to this as “theodicy” – a fancy word that means “the problem of evil.” In other words, how are we to make sense of random suffering if God is indeed powerful and loving? It’s an excellent question and one I’ve been seeking to answer for most of my life. Let me know if you figure it out.
Jesus had the perfect opportunity to explain it all in response to this story about Pilate’s bloody brutality. But he didn’t. Instead, Jesus asked another question: “Do you think that they were worse sinners than anyone else and that this was a punishment?” Most folks did think that then. And lots of folks think it now. It’s a way we try to make sense of suffering, by seeing it as cause and effect. Until, of course, the bad thing happens to us.
But then Jesus answered his own question with a one-word response: “No,” he said. And then he continued: “But unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.”
And then for good measure, Jesus brought up another example of random suffering. A tower over in Siloam had suddenly collapsed. And it killed eighteen people. “What that their fault?” Jesus asked. “No,” he replied. “But unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.”
Now at first glance, that second part does sound a little bit like cause and effect, right? “Repent or you will likewise perish.” Except that Jesus was really clear that random suffering is not some kind of divine punishment. There is no cause and effect. So then, what could he have meant when he said “Repent or you will likewise perish”?
Well, before we get there, let’s back up a bit and talk about repentance. What is it? To repent is not to collapse into a pool of self-recrimination. And it’s not thinking that you are an awful person. And we don’t repent in order to make God love us. God adores us – warts and all. To repent, from the Bible’s point of view, is simply this: to turn and walk in a new direction. It’s a change of course, a change of mind, a change of life - that many time avoids needless suffering.
Repent or perish, Jesus said. And then he told a story, that at first seems like a non-sequitur. A landowner had a fig tree that for three years bore no fruit. This frustrated the landowner because the tree wasn’t living up to its purpose or potential. And so, the landowner said to the gardener, “Chop it down. It’s wasting soil.”
But the gardener saw the potential in the little tree. The gardener believed that, with enough time and attention, it could bear good fruit. And so, he said to the landowner, “Sir, give it another year. Let me dig around and fertilize and love and nurture this little tree. I bet that with the right kind of care, it will live a better life and bear fruit.”
Well, maybe the landowner is God. And maybe the gardener is Jesus. And maybe the underperforming fig tree is me. But the gardener sees my potential. And so, the gardener asks for more time to love and care for me so that I might change and fulfill my potential.
Jesus did not answer the big question about why there is suffering. He just seemed to assume its existence. But he does ask another exceedingly important question. And it’s simply this: in a world of random suffering, why do you want to add even more suffering to your life by the way you live? Repent or that’s what will happen.
And that makes Jesus’s call to repentance, an act of love. Because in this beautiful but broken world, there is the suffering that we cannot avoid. And there is the suffering that we can avoid - the kind we bring on ourselves, by our unwillingness to change those things that hurtle us toward disaster.
For example, does anyone in this room actually believe that being dug in and refusing to compromise and seeing politics as a zero-sum game will actually save this country that we all love? We must repent. We must change our minds. We must change our direction… or we will perish.
Does anyone in this room actually believe that the grudges and the anger and the vitriol that we nurse and feed will not in the end eat us alive? Do we believe that cruelty and avarice and bold-face lies will not come back to haunt us? Do we actually believe that this good earth will always recover from our abuses? Repent or perish. The choice is ours.
Grim, I know. But then there’s the Gospel. We have a gardener who is very patient and very skilled at making us bloom and grow. We have a gardener who advocates for us to the landowner, asking, again and again, for more time for amendment of life. We have a gardener who knows that we can bear fruit worthy of repentance.
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