Manure Happens

2-28-16 (Lent 3C)

Isaiah 55:1-9; Luke 13:1-9

Manure Happens

The readings for this year during Lent seem to be taking us on a tour of some of the stranger passages in the Gospels.  Last week, we heard Jesus telling some pharisees to go talk to a fox.  This week, Jesus tells a parable about manure, gardeners and an unyielding fig tree.  They’re passages that we don’t typically hear in our study and worship, passages that leave us asking questions and scratching our heads, and yet somehow they were still passages that were considered so important that they were included, both in the Gospels themselves but also in our lectionary as passages that should be held up for closer scrutiny, meditation, and reflection.

The encounter starts simply enough as we enter into the passage from Luke - there are some people who come to Jesus, seemingly to get his take on some current events happening in the local area.  They tell him of some Galileans who were murdered by Pilate in the middle of their worship, their blood “mingled with their sacrifices.”  We don’t have a lot from the text to tell us why they’re bringing this up to Jesus at this particular moment, but it seems that at least in some way they were bringing him the same question that so many of us have asked time and time again in our own lives - the “Why do bad things happen to good people” question that sometimes even keeps us up at night.

It’s a completely reasonable question to ask - it rises in our hearts so many times during moments of pain and suffering, moments when we see so many things that break our hearts and make us ask over and over again: “Why?”  We read the newspaper and watch the news and hear of yet more shootings, yet more violence, yet more injustice.  We scratch our heads and wonder why some people commit terrible crimes and seem to get away with them, while others are put in prison for the better part of their lives for far lesser violations.  We hear the stories of people who do unthinkable things to their neighbors, their coworkers, their spouses and even their children… and each new moment seems more and more senseless than the last.

And yet, even as these people come to Jesus to ask him about their own current events that have kept them up at night, Jesus discerns something else happening underneath the question: in the struggle to discern some kind of meaning to the senseless violence, the unexplained situations of bad things happening to good people, the ones who are questioning Jesus about this seem to have something else going on in their minds: Everything they knew from scripture and experience said that these were the kinds of things that didn’t happen unless people deserved it, unless they had committed grievous sins and had done something wrong.  They knew the promises of God in the covenant that God had made with Moses: If they obeyed God's commandments, they would be blessed and prosper as a nation.  Their crops would never wither, their flocks never die out.  But if they didn't obey, they'd lose their land, their blessings, even their identity as a people - God would abandon and forget them. And so with this idea of “good things happen to good people, bad things happen to bad people,” the people seem to be trying to determine just how bad the people were who just died, and they want to know mostly so that they can find reassurance in knowing that just maybe they weren’t quite as bad as that, themselves.

But Jesus’ answer is complex - it hits on many different levels.  He addresses the situation of the Galileans, but adds another current event to solidify his point.  In both the murder of the Galileans and the fall of the tower of Siloam, the simple matter is this: the tragedies happened.  Jesus tells the crowds that it’s not a matter of whether the Galileans or the people in the fall of the tower were greater sinners than others and thus being punished by God - it simply happened.  But Jesus doesn’t leave it there; he adds a gentle nudge in the ribs to his explanation.  “But unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”  It’s the kind of comment that catches you off-guard.  It’s not something you expect to hear immediately after a statement that bad things simply happen.  But it’s a statement that comes as a much needed reminder, all the same.  Jesus completely re-centers the entire issue and guides it back to the matters that are really at stake: rather than worrying about whether other people are being punished or not, it’s time for them to start taking a deeper look at their own lives.

That’s what makes the parable Jesus then launches into so much more powerful.  First of all, the parable speaks to the fact that there is still the chance for grace; that it is not too late to repent and to seek after God once more with all of our hearts.  It speaks to the fact that in Christ, we are still being cultivated - we still have growing to do so that we can bear good fruits for God.  But it also speaks to the original issues that the people brought up.  The gardener fertilizes the fig tree; he digs around it, disturbs it, introduces things to change its situation, to help it grow.  The gardener does hard, sweaty work to help the fig tree to grow.  The manure stinks.  But at the same time, it gives the tree the chance it needs to grow and bear fruit.

It’s a parable you have to step back from.  It’s one that you have to think about.  Because there’s an amazing thing that happens in this little interchange.  The people in the crowds see God as the owner of the vineyard, ready to pull the fig tree out - the tree can’t help it that the soil has been bad, that the season has been dry.  So why root out the tree?  How is it fair or just?  But that’s when the gardener steps in and changes everything - he convinces the owner of the vineyard to let the tree stay, that he will tend to it and help it bear fruit.  He will painstakingly tend to it, dig it up, take the manure and spread it into the soil, and help bring growth and fruit out of this plant.  Everything that the gardener can do, he will.

As Jesus gets to the end of the parable, he leaves it very much on a cliffhanger - he doesn’t say what comes of the fig tree, whether the manure and the cultivation end up making a big enough difference to help the tree bear fruit and survive its owner’s culling.  And yet the implication is clear: “if it bears fruit next year, then well and good.”  The tree has a second chance, and with the gardener’s own tender loving care, there’s the hope and possibility that something good can still come of it.

Thank God we have a gardener like that.  Thank God we have a gardener who is willing to deal with the stink of the manure of this world, who is willing to deal with the hard work, the sweat and pain of labor, the strain of waiting to see those first buds of fruit.  Thank God that out of mud and manure, out of hardship and injustice, Jesus Christ can produce fruits that are far greater, that demonstrate the love and grace of God.  That out of destruction and chaos, Jesus inspires people to show compassion and mercy.  That out of hunger and poverty, Jesus draws up people to feed and provide.  And that out of pain and suffering, Jesus draws up people to heal and to build.  Thank God that in those times when “manure happens,” God is the first one there by our sides, caring for us, crying with us, feeling the same hurts and frustrations that we do, and reminding us that there will come a day when all is set right once more and that these moments are still opportunities for us to bear fruit.  

     Thank God we have a gardener like that.  And thank God that same gardener that carefully tends to us, who deals with the stink of the world around us, also offers us the invitation to get down in the dirt and mess, to get our hands dirty, and to be a part of that process of cultivation.  Thank God that we have been invited to be gardeners, ourselves, to be the people who offer a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, a hand to reach out in compassion to a world that asks the same questions that we do.  And thank God that we've been given a message of hope to the world, that even when "manure happens," God is nevertheless present among us, ready to help us in every step of our journey, and to equip us to be a helper to others along the way.  To God be the Glory.  Amen.