In Nomine etc..
Today’s Gospel reading presents us with two distinct stories, both of them a little grim, severe even, in their content. And the two stories don’t appear to have much to do with each other. That being so, it is our task to understand why the Evangelist placed them where he did, and to discern what his message is, or what his messages are. And their arrangement is as much a message as any content.
This chapter, chapter 13 of Luke’s Gospel, is in that part of the Gospel that scholars call ‘Luke’s Special Section’; special because it is unique. It has no parallels in the other Gospels. That tells us that Luke, and Luke’s community, knew teachings and stories of Jesus that the other communities did not know. That gives Luke’s Gospel a special status, an important one; it tells us to pay close attention to his unique content, and to be ready to hear what special emphasis Luke gives to Jesus’s teaching and work.
Today’s reading begins “there were some present who told [Jesus] about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.” A grim beginning, a bloody one, a foreshadowing of the Passion, a reading which is appropriate as we pass through Lent, appropriate for the time when we remember in our devotions the Stations of the Cross, itself a mingling of blood and sacrifice initiated by Pilate.
I don’t know what incident this text refers to, but a scenario is easy to imagine. The Galileans are in a temple, there has been a riot, or a revolt, and Pilate’s soldiers attack during a sacrifice. Many are killed. We remember the recent attacks on mosques in New Zealand, and attacks on churches in Egypt and elsewhere. Luke is telling us that our religion is no protection against violence, and it’s no protection against God’s judgment either. And he records Jesus as telling us that such violence is not proof of the sinfulness of the victims; rather it is a sign that we are all equally subject to judgment, none of us better or worse than any other. “Unless you repent,” he says, “you will all perish as they did.” We may understand this to mean spiritual death, not necessarily a threat of physical violence. We all have a tendency to believe that violence is, or ought to be, a punishment for sin. Certainly the crowds around Jesus thought so, but we don’t need to be so literal. But we can perish spiritually, if we fail to repent. A suitable warning for Lent, and any other time. The tower of Siloam story makes essentially the same points, and comes to the same conclusion.
“A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard and he came looking for fruit on it and found none.” This parable reads like it’s incomplete and belongs somewhere else. But if we think about it, we realize that it’s really quite ingenious, and that Luke put it here for a reason. It’s our task to uncover that reason.
The man orders the tree cut down because it’s not producing fruit. The gardener intercedes for the tree, and asks for another year, to fertilize the tree and help it produce fruit. The story stops there, somewhat oddly. There is no recorded reply from the owner of the vineyard, but we can assume that he consents. It is odd that the gardener wants to save the tree at all, and make an issue of it with his employer. What is going on here? What is Luke up to?
We can understand this story as allegory. There is a tradition that the fig tree represents the tree of knowledge in the Garden of Eden, (we may take it to refer to all creation generally), and that it will be restored at the end of time. The man, then, the owner of the vineyard (which is the Garden, or the Kingdom) is God, and the gardener is the Son. The Son is interceding on behalf of all creation, and working to restore it. But there is a limit. “If it bears fruit, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.” This is a way of saying that time will end, there will be a judgment. It is also a way of reinforcing the conclusion of the previous story: “unless you repent, you will all perish.”
So Luke has fit the stories together well, with one consistent theme: repent! I’m reminded of what an Orthodox priest said in a funeral sermon one Eastertide: Why has God allowed you to live through another Lent? The answer of course: to give the Gardener time to fertilize the Tree, to give us time to repent.
In Nomine etc.. (23.III.19 Adv.)
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