Parable of the Dread Pirate Roberts

SACRED STORY – Luke 13:1-9, 31-35

13 At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. 2 He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? 3 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. 4 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? 5 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”6 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. 7 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?’ 8 He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. 9 If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”

 31 At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” 32 He said to them, “Go and tell that fox for me,[a] ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. 33 Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’ 34 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! 35 See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when[b] you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’”

 I admit I haven’t been keeping up with the news much lately. There’s just so much on top of so much. And so I find that my field of vision has drastically narrowed to try and cope.  I don’t want to be told about what awful things happened to those Galileans, how cruel leaders hurt people again, or how the way of empire seems to just keep on winning. I have no good answer for why the heartache continues. I know that the headlines will ask more of me than I have to give right now. My capacity to care seems to have shriveled.  And I admit it is an unearned privilege to be able to withdraw this way because my own individual livelihood or dignity is not the one on the line or being debated. And it makes me feel like a waste of soil for not being better or more fruitful.

During this season of Lent, this time of clearing away and tending to, we make a point to practice the ritual of confession and forgiveness.  And what is a confession if not simply an honest admission of the mess we find ourselves in?

Jesus invites those gathered to reflect on the state of things and their place in it. Jesus sees and responds to their attempts to make sense of the senseless. Jesus gives voice to and in so doing affirms that what they’re experience is an inequitable suffering. And so I wonder what that looks like for you right now. I wonder what news or experience weighs heavy on you tonight? Perhaps we can name together the places of suffering, inequity, injustice in our lives and our world, even if they’re not on the scale of literal life and death? Share in the chat or comments.

This week we’ve seen the dignity and belovedness of transgender people and their right to exist in public questioned and maligned. Immigrant detention centers continue to be built. In Houston and across Texas today there are still homes without running water and those who are ripping out carpet and drywall, often folks that were already behind the 8 ball. In recent months, it has become increasingly clear how women, particularly those with children, have borne the brunt of the pandemic, especially BIPOC women.  Domestic partner violence has ballooned under these circumstances we’re in. Perhaps we feel the weight of medical bills, debt, job uncertainty, job intensity, health struggles, and so many things.

To those at an arm’s length from this particular pain, Jesus essentially asks, do you think they deserved it? Do you think that their suffering is merited in some way?

Most of us would answer “no” when asked outright, we know that’s the “right” answer, but I think part of us at least subconsciously holds to the idea that WE are somehow categorically different than the unfortunate THEM. In some ways we need them to “deserve it” because if it’s the result of their actions, maybe we can protect ourselves from a similar fate.

Jesus reminds us of the truth that we all suffer under a system that causes this inequitable suffering. Jesus says, “repent or you will perish like them.” It’s not an ultimatum, it’s the stark admission that there will always be power that serves only itself and relies on harm and oppression to remain and unless we something changes to shift our path onto another way, there will continue to be inequitable suffering, which is a way of death.

Jesus tells stories precisely about another way of being – a way not of extraction and destruction, but compassion and restoration.

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. 7 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?’ 8 He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. 9 If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”

I hear these words and think of the Dread Pirate Roberts of A Princess Bride. “good night, Wesley. Good work, sleep well.  I’ll most likely kill you in the morning. Three years he said that.” Each time death seems most practical, even just, or inevitable…The gardener creates another way.

Perhaps we, too, stand like the fig tree feeling fruitless, waiting for the ax to fall that we’ve been convinced we deserve, but it doesn’t come.  We are not cut off or cut down, but given time to continue growing. The gardener extends grace and mercy. The tree doesn’t produce but is still deserving of a place in the garden because the gardener says so.

It seems a fragile existence, like one day, one year, we will run up against the hard limit of grace or that it is too vulnerable to match the strength of empire, but Jesus shows that this way of restoration is one that won’t be stopped by the way of blood-thirsty power, nor the way of thin security that avoids and ignores the troublesome. Even when up against a fox like Herod, Jesus doubles down, not by more and more strength, but by fierce gentleness. When the fox is at the door, Jesus doesn’t describe themselves as a rampaging bear, but a mother hen.  Jesus doesn’t play by Pilate or Herod’s rules, but establishes their own. Jesus, God with us, shows the way of the defiant and divine feminine that gathers and holds and cares and nourishes. God shows holy masculinity and femininity and both at once and beyond either and it is a means of liberation for everyone. God’s image, which we as creation reflect, contains multitudes in harmony. God’s garden has room for the fruitless and wilty to rest and recover and remain. This is the way that establishes life over death.

This weekend as I continued to take a closer look at my own garden after a winter like it has never seen before, there was so much that had turned to mush or a dry and withdrawn version of its former self.  But I know that this isn’t the whole story. Long branches were lost, but this often serves to protect what is left closest to the root. One way of testing the plants to see what life remains is to gently scrape thin layer of bark away from them stem. Under the dried up exterior, look for a vein of green wick that tells you there’s still more to see. Experienced gardeners will tell you, don’t cut things down just yet…give it a bit more time and sun and care…and you may be surprised. I’ve noticed changes just in the past week. Among the barren branches, this morning I would catch a glimpse of that bright chartreuse green of new growth.  It’s a pungent burst of color against the drab palette of decay – signs and movement of life even out of loss.

I wonder where have you noticed green wick or new shoots? What small buds and bursts are brightening before you?

Holy One of subversive power and enduring possibility,
Your word defies destruction. Your word casts out demons. Your word heals impossible wounds. Your word dismantles empires. Your word creates space for what some would discard. Your being transcends all things. Your way transforms the fabric of the universe. Help us to stand in awe and wonder of what your word is capable of doing. Give us compassion to grow in your word and wisdom to nurture it, for the sake of the one whose very whisper puts blessing on our lips, Jesus Christ. Amen.