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"One More Year"
Today’s passage from Luke (see Scripture Readings) comes up in the lectionary every three years appropriately during Lent. The first time I preached on this passage was at a church in Farmville, VA, a relatively small town south west of Richmond. I was still in seminary at the time. When I chose "Repent!" with exclamation point for the title of that first sermon. I remember smiling when I thought about the word, "Repent!," appearing on the marquee in front of the church; and imagined the reactions from passersby wondering if the Presbyterians were really going to be called to repent on Sunday.
Behind my smugness, however, was a peculiar truth – maybe one that you have shared at some point. I realized that I hadn’t really taken the whole concept of repentance seriously. I hadn’t heard much about it in my growing up and probably thought it was a rather dated concept – a leftover from the hell, fire and brimstone the 19th century revivalists. If it had a place in today’s theology, I figured it was only in the theology of street corner preachers who got in my face and literally shouted the repent, the end is near!" I suppose that the whole concept of repentance seemed like a scare tactic not really a part of the God of love and grace that I thought I knew. So, it’s nice to return to this passage today and remember how fundamentally mistaken I was in my ideas about repentance. Now, please, don’t become concerned. This morning you won’t be shouted at about how evil we are and how we must repent or go to hell. You will, however, hear that repentance is serious – in fact, I’ll suggest that it truly is a matter of life and death. And, you will hear that repentance is integral to the plan that the God of love has for all of God’s children – for each of us here today. So, first, just how serious is repentance. Well, in his ministry, Jesus spoke some of his first and final words about repentance. At the beginning of his ministry, he told the crowds, "The time is fulfilled. The Kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe the good news" (Matthew 4:17). And, at the end of his ministry, he left us with a charge that "repentance and forgiveness of sins . . . be preached in his name to all nations" (Luke 24:47). And, in some form or another, the word repent is used 24 times in the gospels according to Matthew, Mark and Luke. Repentance is a serious matter even in the wonderful light of the gift of God’s saving grace. The father of our reformed heritage, John Calvin – emphatic as he was about grace – also said that "the [whole of the] gospel [or good news] is contained under . . . two headings, . . . [one] forgiveness of sins," and you guessed it, two, "repentance" (Institutes, p. 613). So even in a theology of grace, the concept of repentance is serious and goes hand and hand with the idea of sin. Maybe the inclination to shy away from the seriousness of repentance is because we recoil from the seriousness of sin. For some of us, taking sin seriously is too much like an affirmation of how bad we already think we are. For others of us, taking sin seriously is too negative and fear-ridden to suit us. After all, we might say, we try hard and, for the most part, seem to live pretty moral lives. Yet, to take repentance seriously, we also need to take sin seriously. Maybe it would help before we go further to clarify the meaning of both of these words, repentance and sin, at least in terms of today’s scripture. Repentance doesn’t mean groveling. And while it involves self-examination, it doesn’t mean self-condemnation. The Greek word literally means to turn. In the context of the gospel, it means turning to God, and turning not just once, but again, and again. It’s a continual, on going verb making repentance a process, a process of change, a change in orientation, a change in what’s important. As for the meaning of sin, in one sense, sin does mean specific acts of disobedience, the standards, if you will, for our moral behavior. In the ways Jesus uses it talking about repentance, however, sin means the fundamental break in our relationship with God, our turning away from God. In today’s passage from Luke, Jesus resists any comment on the specific sinfulness of the victims of the natural fall of the towers at Siloam and malicious slaughter by Pilate. The crowd seems to want Jesus’ assurance that somehow they aren’t as bad as those who had suffered so terribly. Now while, Jesus didn’t dispel the notion of consequences for our actions, he quickly dismissed this cause and effect mentality of sin and suffering. In his response to these tragedies, Jesus spends no time connecting any specific sinful acts with the tragedies. Nor does he spend any time consoling the crowd that they will avoid such plights because of their righteousness. Jesus responds, in a short, emphatic statement telling the crowd, each of them without exception, "unless you repent, you will all perish." And, he says it not only once, but twice. Repent or perish! Strong words, serious words, a warning to all in hearing to change or suffer the consequences. Yet, as we hear Jesus say these words, we also need to remember his words in the preceding chapter. Just verses away from today’s warning, Jesus tells his flock not to be afraid because it’s God’s good pleasure to give them the kingdom of God (Luke 12:32). So, yes, Jesus’ warning to repent is harsh. It’s strong; it’s serious. Yet, I can’t help but thinking of it like the warnings I heard from my parents. The more that was at stake, in terms of my well-being, the stronger and more emphatic the warnings became. Jesus knows what is best for us and wants us to thrive. Jesus knows that we are meant to live as God’s kingdom people, in close relationship to God. Much is at stake, and Jesus doesn’t want us to waste one more second away from God. He wants us to realize from the tragedies of the towers and the slaughters that life is fragile and uncertain. The warning is for our own good. "Repent!" Jesus says to us, turn to God, and begin that life-giving journey towards God that is meant for us to travel, the path that is intended for us as the humans made by God, made in God’s image. Some of you have heard me talk about spirituality, about this turning to God, like being in a stream. Being in relationship with God, as we are intended to be, is like flowing with the stream – there’s a natural current that feels good, feels right. The current has its rough places; and, make no mistake, some of those rough places can be tragic and painful. Yet, even in those rough places, there is a sense of purpose, a sense of well-being and peace. It’s a purpose and peace that comes with going with the flow as opposed to going against it. That’s just the way it is. These are rules of life set down by the creator of life. Repentance is the turning to God that allows us to begin to know what it feels like to go with the flow of the divine stream of life. Repent, with an exclamation, certainly is a warning, a call for us to change what we’re doing. Yet is also a plea for us to live the way God made us to live - to live in relationship with God. I talk about it as going with the flow of that divine stream. St. Augustine was a little more poetic, but basically said the same thing when he observed that our hearts are restless until they rest in God. Repent or perish. Serious? Yes, you bet it is. In fact, you could say that it’s a matter of life or death. It’s matter of growing closer and closer to the God or further and further from God. Repent or perish; repent and live. So the harshness of Jesus words is justified, particularly if we think in terms of their harshness being born of a desire for us to thrive. To live, to thrive, we need to turn to God. Repent or perish is a warning, an ominous invitation. Yet, Jesus doesn’t end his message with the warning, perhaps leaving us with unresolved fears about our fate. In the next verses, in the simple story of the fig tree, Jesus balances the seriousness of the warning to repent with the promise of grace. The story tells us that the fig tree’s been given time to produce. It’s had the full, natural cycle of three years to bear fruit, but it has remained barren. The land owner has every right to be concerned about the barren tree and the precious soil it’s using. The owner has every right to think about cutting the tree down. Yet, the land owner has also employed a very special gardener, and this special gardener pleads to give the tree one more year. He pleads, however, not only for more time; he also commits himself to caring for the tree so that it will have a chance finally to bear fruit. First, through Israel and then the church, God has given us time to bear the fruit expected of us, the fruit of turning to God in all our words and deeds so that the world might know the good news of God’s love. Now, we aren’t totally barren, totally unfruitful, but we do fall short of being completely God’s own. We all, collectively and individually, fall short of living God’s good news in all we say and do. Yet, like the fig tree, we, too have been given more time, and we have been given a special helper. Through scripture, through community, through church, through prayer, through service, through obedience, in all these ways and more, God has given us Christ’s spirit to help us to bear the fruit of repentance. Christ is with us to help us again and again to turn toward God and to live into the lives God intends for us, collectively and individually. God’s demand for our repentance is balanced by God’s gift of grace. Both are real, both are serious. Yes, we have one more year, or one more century, or one more whatever, but the time is near. The longer we delay, the further off we become from the place our restless hearts will find rest and peace and meaning. God’s kingdom has come. In Jesus, God has made known to us the life that is intended for us all – a life of love for God, love for ourselves and love for others. One more year, we have been warned - repent or perish. One more year, we have been promised - repent and live.
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Darla
Blatnik