Isaiah 55:1-91
Corinthians 10:1-13
Luke 13:1-9
I would like to thank Father Stephen for his kind invitation to preach today. The last time I stood here was exactly ten years ago on this very Sunday—which was my last with you as one of your curates. It is lovely to be here again.
We human beings can so easily allow our lives to be shaped by desires and longings that knock us off course and cause disasters along the way.
Which puts me in mind of a story about that holy fool Nasruddin (a character used by the Sufis in the Middle East for spiritual instruction).
Nasruddin is distressed by how slowly his donkey moves.
“If you want your donkey to move faster, Nasruddin,” says his neighbour, “get some ammonia and rub it on its behind.”
Nasruddin finds that this works.
One day, feeling listless, he tries the same remedy on himself.
The ammonia burns his bottom so much that he starts running round and round his room.
After completing a few circles of the room his wife comes in, curious to see what all the noise is about.
“What is the matter?” she calls out, unable to get hold of him.
“If you want to catch me,” pants Nasruddin, “use the contents of that bottle on your behind.”
It has been said that “To be human is to long for many things.” I wonder if our longings are all varied expressions of a basic human hunger: to be with God—that desire which St. Augustine’s famous words speak about: that our hearts are restless until they rest in God.
Today Isaiah gives us a picture of the Jewish people: conquered, deported. Living in exile on the edges of the Babylonian Empire they have little hope, even though evidence suggests that they enjoy a limited degree of religious and political autonomy. But all is not well. After all, one may have a measure of religious and political independence but the fact remains that the people are still living in banishment.
This reading comes from the period just before the end of the exile so, although unknown to the Jewish people at the time, God is soon to restore them and renew the covenant. The assurance of a new or renewed covenant is characteristic of prophetic literature of the period of the Exile. Yet even with such a message the exiles understand their spiritual and religious condition to be a sign of neglect by God, and even as a sign of God’s disappearance from the historical stage, as it were.
Perhaps this reading from Isaiah points toward a universal human tendency—a tendency certainly evident by what the ancient Israelites felt about God and God’s presence or absence in exile—an inclination to make conclusions about God’s activity based upon our circumstances: If things are good, God is with us and pleased. If things are not good, then God is punishing us or has abandoned us.
Whereas the exiled Jewish community assumes God has abandoned them, the problem for the Corinthians is different but also points to a universal human condition. Paul is writing to a community that considers itself immune from danger. He wants to show them, by the examples he cites in today’s reading, that—as with ancient Israel in the wilderness—even God’s chosen ones can go seriously wrong and regardless of their privileges they are liable to ruin. But Paul also points out that there is hope: God will enable them to endure temptation and will always provide an escape route for them. The question is whether they will take it and, in the case of the Corinthians, accept the social inconvenience it will cause.
One of the troubles in Corinth is that the community there has become so preoccupied with their own gifts that they are ignoring God; in effect taking God for granted. Perhaps they feel that if they concentrate on how wonderful they are it will dispel the anxiety and fear they may also be experiencing—especially if, at some level, they are mistrustful of God.
How many of us have not done something similar at some point in our lives? Afraid, unsure, unable for whatever reason to put our trust in God we try and put our faith in ourselves or something else thereby giving us a fleeting sensation of security. Indeed, it is something our society is very good at: our faith is in science, or technology, our financial stability, our jobs or almost anything but God. We look to these transitory things to define who we are and to give us security and safety. But in the end they cannot.
Sometimes circumstances make it difficult for us to believe that God is good—God is looking after us, caring for us. Then too we may look elsewhere for comfort but I think that God understands and is compassionate with us in our pain.
In the Gospel Jesus deals with that all too human temptation to link disaster or suffering with human responsibility. It was common in Jesus’ day to see catastrophic events as an indication of God’s anger against sinful people: bad things happened to these people. It must have been their sinfulness that brought God’s anger and destruction upon them; they got what they deserved. It is unfortunate that one still hears this objectionable train of thought even these days.
Jesus rejects this view by telling his hearers that their fate will be the same as the Galileans or those at Siloam not because they are bad or because God is angry with them but because they cannot see the signs. The Israelites in exile misread the signs, but this passage is part of a section of text that deals with how the Jewish nation refuses to see the warnings. And yet, the story ends with great hope. The account of the fig tree is a reminder that God gives us grace.
So the message we get is a simple one: It makes a difference how we live. The choices we make matter. God cares. Sometimes I think we need—I certainly do at any rate—need to simply stop and contemplate, literally take to heart those two simple words: God cares. God’s care is evident in all the readings today with messages of hope and some gentle warnings:
If you are in exile, God will bring you home. If you think you are immune to danger because of your position, you need to take heed. If you are tempted God will provide a way out, if you are willing to take it. If you fail to see the signs, disaster may come, not because you are bad but because you have failed to see. The last, and loveliest message of all, is that even with all of the unfortunate choices we make, the mistakes and the failures, God’s response is always grace and love.
As we examine where we are on our spiritual journey this Lent we can be hopeful. If healing is what we need, then we can be assured that we are embraced and surrounded by the infinite love and compassion of God. If we find our lives out of step with God, then yes, we will need to change. But we change knowing that God cares and that God is at work in our lives already to bring about the desired change.
“I’ll wait until tomorrow to do that”. Have you ever said that and then found the chance is gone the next day? We are all aware of the fleeting nature of time and we all have experience of the missed opportunity, the moment of grace overlooked. At the same time, we know that our God is the God of second chances and that it is never truly over. Like Augustine, we hear the insistent murmur, “if not now, when?” That future moment of grace will be just like this one, ordinary, nothing special, short-lived and yet the only moment that exists, the “now” of our everyday.
As we have contemplated our state each Lent over the years we may see the same things that we need to change and repent of coming up time and again. We are all human and we all make mistakes and we all sin. But maybe, as we reflect each year, repent, try to change and are showered with God’s grace, “like water dripping on rock, our ungodliness is worn away by this practice and God is bringing us more and more to be the people God wants us to be.”[1]
Terrance Bell
[1] This idea from Fr Richard Peers, Headmaster of Trinity School, Lewisham, from I am the most sinful person I know: Getting ready for Christmas, go to confession an article found at http://trinitylewisham.com/