
In the last week one of the most powerful earthquakes ever recorded hit Chile. A few days later, an earthquake startled Taiwan while aftershocks continued to rock South America. The death toll from January’s earthquake in Haiti is now estimated at 230,000 people.
The questions are obvious. What in God’s name is going on? What--in God’s name--is going on? Is there a message in all this? Is God trying to tell us something? If so, what is it? What--in God’s name--are the conclusions we should be drawing when tragedy strikes?
Some fools have already rushed in where angels should, rightly, fear to tread. Perhaps you’ve heard that, no sooner than the earthquake hit Haiti, Pat Robertson glibly said that Haiti had been devastated by the earthquake because two hundred years ago its people made a pact with the devil to gain their independence from the French (something, by the way, which is simply untrue).
But, at least, Robertson was asking the question! What--in the face not only of this tragedy, but of all these tragedies--what in God’s name is going on? Is there a message we should be drawing from what is happening all around us? If so, what is it?
Jesus mentions two earthquake-like tragedies at the beginning of today’s gospel reading. And, while all details have otherwise been lost to history, it’s pretty clear what was going on. Some Jewish pilgrims had traveled from Galilee to pay homage to God at the Temple in Jerusalem when, for some reason, Pontius Pilate had them murdered and their blood mingled with their sacrifices. In the second case, a tower had collapsed in Galilee and killed several people.
In both cases, Jesus answers the question that Pat Robertson and others got wrong. Having asked, “Do you think those murdered Galileans were worse sinners than all other Galileans?” Jesus thunders, “Not at all. ... And those eighteen in Jerusalem the other day, the ones crushed and killed when the Tower of Siloam collapsed and fell on them, do you think they were worse citizens than all other Jerusalemites?” Again he thunders, “Not at all.”
Jesus will not glibly attribute reasons and causes for human tragedy. He will not say that certain people died because God was punishing them nor that certain tragedies occurred because God was giving messages through them.
What Jesus does instead is what we’ll now be focusing upon. Jesus turns the question--the questions raised about the role of God in death and human tragedy--back upon his listeners. He says, “No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” As if we hadn’t heard him, he then repeats himself. “No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”
Jesus’ response to tragedy--the message that Jesus shares about tragedy--is not to lay blame; not to assign guilt. Jesus’ response--and message--is to call each of us to repent.
Tragedy should not prompt us to speculate about others. What did they do wrong? Why did God let this happen to them? No, says Jesus, tragedy should only and always prompt us to look within ourselves. And, says Jesus, when we look within ourselves, the one and only thing we should do is to repent.
At this point, let me say that, what we think Jesus means about repenting is probably a whole lot different that what he actually means. Here’s what I mean. When I hear Jesus say, “Unless you repent, you will all perish,” what I think of is one of those bearded street corner preachers in the comics, holding up a sign saying, “The End is near.”
Right? I hear someone telling me to repent and I see someone warning me to avoid being punished by an angry God. Right? But is that what Jesus means? Is this what Jesus wants us to see when he says, “repent”?
One of the best known and best loved stories in the Bible is, like today’s reading, also from the Gospel of Luke. It’s the story of the Prodigal Son.
You know the story, don’t you? A son demands his inheritance from his father and, when he receives it, he goes to a far country where he squanders it all in dissolute living. Penniless, the son humiliates himself by working in a pigsty, a line of work almost unimaginably degrading to someone raised Jewish.
Realizing that even his father’s hired hands live better than he is, the son comes to his senses and resolves to return to his father. He thinks that, if he prepares and practices the right speech, maybe his father will let him work off his indebtedness to his father by serving as one of his laborers.
It’s an absurd idea, by the way. But, equally absurd is the heartfelt, joyful acceptance of the son by his father the moment the father sees him. “Let us eat and celebrate,” he says to anyone who will listen, “for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!”
And that, says Jesus, is repentance. We picture bearded, wild-eyed preachers angrily standing on street corners, shouting, “Repent! The End is near!” Jesus pictures an ecstatic father, running with arms open wide, saying, “let us eat and celebrate; for this child of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” We’re worried about avoiding punishment; Jesus is inviting us to experience a homecoming, and relief.
Today’s first reading reinforces this joyous image of repentance. Picture in your mind recent images of either Chile or Haiti. In the midst of panic and ruin, hear the Word of God as expressed through Isaiah.
It starts with a shout! “Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.”
It starts with a shout, but not a shout of doom or of judgment. In the midst of doom, God’s Word is a word of comfort. “Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; you that have no money, come, buy and eat!”
It starts with a shout, but it ends with a whisper. “Seek the LORD while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the LORD, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.”
And then, as if God knows our images of repentance differ from his--we see angry, wild-eyed preachers on street-corners while he sees parents running madly to embrace and welcome home lost children--God ends this meditation on repentance with this reminder: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.”
Today we’ve been asking what messages God might want us to hear when tragedy strikes. Rather than assigning blame or looking for an angry or vengeful God, Jesus asks us to look within ourselves. Look within yourself, Jesus says, and repent.
Repentance means returning to God. Return to God ... and be welcomed home!
In Jesus’ name. Amen!
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