In the Name of God, who is uniquely revealed as Father, Son and Holy Spirit
If we did not have the Gospels, historians would still be able to tell us that Pontius Pilate was a ruthless governor of Palestine.
From the First Century historian Josephus, we would know that Pilate was not averse to either using ruthless violence or causing offence; whether that be by the crucifixion of over 200 zealots on the Sabbath or placing Roman emblems, which were dedicated to the Roman Emperor in the Jewish temple. Pilate seems to know just how to make the collective blood pressure of those he was supposed to govern rise. One of the features of Luke’s two volume work is the positive position he takes about those in authority; our Evangelist never though allows the abuse of power to be tolerated.
Therefore, Luke tells us of another act of outrage: that of mixing of the blood of Galilean rebels with their sacrifice. All this would tell us that Pilate knew or cared little about the story of God as lived out through his chosen people, Israel.
A summary given in a few lines does not quite capture the fury that would have been felt by the procurator’s actions. Imagine a leader ordering the slaughter of worshippers in St Peter’s Square, at western wall in Jerusalem or in Mecca or of a king, commanding the murder of an archbishop in Canterbury Cathedral, and you will get close to the national and international anger that would have been felt.
Jesus does not comment about Pilate but instead asks those gathered around him whether or not they believed that those Galileans were worse sinners than others from Galilee. It was common to link disaster or illness with wrong doing in an almost mechanical sort of way. It is certainly my experience in ministry that we still operate in a similar way, even if we pretend to be a little more sophisticated.
If you find that difficult to believe, when have you not asked why someone suffers (usually a good person) and someone else does not? We still can find ourselves unhelpfully engaged in a philosophical debate that leads us down cul-de-sacs from which we never quite return.
Jesus does not enter such a debate; but instead after offering another contemporary example, rams home a message: unless you change your ways, you will meet the same end.
This is a hint perhaps at our mortality and the divine offer of life everlasting or perhaps a suggestion that the road Israel was on with its stubborn refusal to embrace the ways of God and/or pull back from its ridiculous attempts to rebel against Rome; those who live by the sword die by the sword; and buildings will crumble when an Imperial army surrounds you. Whichever explanation we accept, there is no escaping the hard edged nature of message given by Jesus: change or face the consequences. This is my first key point for today: the gospel message demands change.
At the very heart of the message of Jesus was the phrase ‘repent for the kingdom of God is at hand’. Too often we focus on the delights of the kingdom, and hide from the costs of repentance and the daily discipleship that follows. For both individual and nation it can be the refusal to accept that a changing the ways we live is necessary. Both have consequences and it is often easier to divert down blind alleys with questions about why individuals suffer or natural disasters occur than confront the reality that God demands that we live life differently.
Our Gospel reading continues with a story that has lost something in translation. In order to understand it, we need to know certain things: both the vineyard and the fig-tree were used as images for Israel. Jesus, those hearing him and reading the text would all know this. They would also know that the owner of the vineyard was usually taken to be God. When we acknowledge this; the story reads as follows. Israel had not borne fruit (presumably because she had insisted on going her own way). The owner of the vineyard is intent on wiping Israel out because of this. The owner is though persuaded to give Israel another chance. Those familiar with the biblical story will here echoes perhaps of Abram’s dialogue with God over Sodom and Gomorrah or Moses intercession on behalf of the people of Israel. It is an important part of the story that God demands much of those who choose to follow him. Those also familiar with the time of Jesus will be quick to point out that Jewish leaders described God as a ‘gardener’. What does it do to the story if God is the gardener: the one who pleads for the tree to be given more time? It makes God to be generous, merciful and reckless. It makes God different to ourselves. As humans, we often give up on people with relative ease. My second key point is then God offers us a different way of living and being.
Paul refreshes the memories or tells for the first time the story of Israel in the wilderness to the Church at Corinth; where God dealt fairly, graciously and robustly with his people. The Apostle recounts the story of how people who disobeyed or cut corners were dealt with. This was and is important not only as a history lesson. The poet, Steve Turner, is insightful in his brief poem entitled ‘History’.
History repeats itself. It has to. No one listens.
We all long to learn lessons from history. But many of us fail to do so. This is true on both a personal and community level.
Paul’s retelling was also essential, since we cannot live our lives properly as the people of God if we do not know the story. The story of God’s people, as revealed in the Scriptures sets the contours for our living today. This might on first hearing seem a little odd. Yet, we accept that families have stories which shape how they behave. The same is true of communities, and perhaps even nations. So do the people of God. Peppered through our story is a God of grace and love who calls a people; giving his people patterns for living, who demonstrate their own capacity for growing up and dispensing with the patterns only to end up in a mess; eventually returning to God who never gives up on them.
The Church calls us during Lent to learn again our story, which is why we are looking, at the overarching narrative of which Scripture told, in our Lent group. It is why we will shortly ask God in the Eucharistic prayer that we might grow in grace and learn to be people of God once again. One of the ways we will do this is ensuring that our biblical literacy is up to scratch. By doing so, we will be able to enter into the drama of the scriptures in a way we not be able to do so otherwise.
Those of you who were here last week might wonder where the outrageous grace of my hypothetical book on biblical interpretation has gone to. Commitment and Cost of discipleship are the flipside of grace and invitation. This is where our Old Testament reading might be helpful with the invitation that is offered by God in Isaiah to come to the waters and drink. God’s invitation is always to come as you are and to freely take part in the life offered for you. Accepting God’s invitation of a relationship does though involve change. Relationships change us for better or for worse. Just as in a marriage, husband and wife exchange and create a story; our relationship with God changes our story; as perhaps also does his story, which takes it into an altogether different and fascinating theological avenue.
Jesus in the Gospel of Luke was always inviting people to come to banquets as they were, eating with those who religious people said he should not. My third key point is that there is room for all at the table of Christ. However, there will be always those who refuse to come; either because the demands are too difficult or the message of inclusion and grace is deemed to be foolish. Before we start wondering what will happen to them; we would do well to remember that Jesus’ harshest words were to those of us who already thought we were sat at the table.
We prepare to declare in the God who judges as well as invites with a moment of silence.
