Another chance (Lk. 13:1–9)
If there was a fruit tree in your garden that didn’t grow any fruit one year, would you give it another year? Probably. Maybe the conditions just weren’t right this year. What if it failed again? Well... it might be better to take it out and plant something that might suit the conditions better or is known to be successful in the area. But I’ll give it another go. Three years? Why should it take nutrients from the soil that the other plants could use? Take it out.
Sometimes we’re willing to endure fruitless seasons in desperate hope that one day, your persistence will be rewarded, and your endurance pays off. How patient we are will depend on how much we really want whatever it is to fulfil its potential.
If it’s a cherished car, for example, we’ll put up with the faulty speedometer and a mystery stench for years before we even consider replacing it. If you invest in shares that just aren’t delivering how you wanted them to, you’ll hang on as long as you possibly can. But we all run out of patience eventually, don’t we? Eventually, we cut our losses and probably wish we did a lot sooner.
This parable today is about a fruitless tree, a plea for mercy, and another chance.
A fruitless tree
What led Jesus to tell the parable of the fig tree was a very interesting discussion about a very tragic event. Luke says that there were some Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. We don’t know any more about this event since it isn’t mentioned anywhere else in the New Testament or any other records, but it sounds like a very offensive and disgraceful action. We don’t know what caused Pilate to do this, but it’s evident that these people had suffered greatly from this.
The question the people are asking is whether these Galileans did something to deserve such an experience. More specifically: why were these Galileans punished so harshly by God?
Let’s bring it into the present for a moment. The war in Ukraine is getting worse by the day. Millions of people are experiencing tremendous pain and suffering – physical, emotional and, I daresay, spiritual. Why would God allow Russia to come to such a decision and cause so much devastation to their neighbour?
The floods in Queensland and New South Wales have also caused great damage and loss. Natural disasters are never easy to accept or explain – at least in the case of war, we have an enemy to blame. When it comes to floods, tsunamis, and hurricanes, we can only blame God. What did those people do to deserve such devastation?
The ultimate question is this: why does God allow suffering in the world? Maybe you’ve been asked before by a non-Christian friend. Maybe you’ve wondered yourself. It’s probably the most difficult question you will ever be asked.
Jesus responds by framing the question in a slightly different way: Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered like this?
He draws on another recent tragedy to reinforce the point. The collapse of the tower in Siloam which killed 18 people is not recorded anywhere else either, interestingly enough. This isn’t a foreign concept to us at all – we’ve had our fair share of construction accidents over the years, even at the Royal Adelaide Hospital not too long ago. The point is the same: what did these people do to deserve this? Were they worse than us?
“By no means,” Jesus says, “but unless you repent, you will all suffer in the same way.”
Sharp words from Jesus. Those that have suffered from tragedies – both the ones caused by other people and the ones that are unexplainable – are no worse sinners than we are. But therein lies our problem: we’re all sinners.
The parable might help us to understand what Jesus means. A man has a fig tree in his vineyard that hasn’t produced fruit for three long years. He wants to cut it down to avoid wasting the nutrients in the soil and make room for something that will be productive. Understandable.
His gardener comes to him and pleas for him to give it one more year, promising to dig around it and feed it manure to give it every chance to produce fruit this time.
The owner agrees with the condition that it stays if it works, but if not, it goes.
The owner is God. The vineyard is Israel. The gardener represents the religious leaders, who intercede for the nation.
Israel was having a tough time accepting Jesus as their Messiah. Despite the prophecies of a suffering servant and a humble human being, they expected something more king-like. Despite the centuries of preparation for the arrival of the promised Messiah, God’s people could not produce the fruit of faith. They couldn’t get past their own expectations. They were a fig tree with no figs.
Israel has a record of see-sawing faith in God. Throughout the whole Old Testament, Israel has moments of great triumph and faith in God, closely followed by a terrible act of mistrust and closed ears to God. It would be completely fair of God to cut them down and start again with people who would be more cooperative, attentive, and faithful.
We’re not so different to Israel. It’s easy to point the finger of blame, but we struggle with the same inconsistency and fall for the same traps set by Satan. God would be completely justified if he decided to punish us and cut us down to make room in his kingdom for better people. We can be fig trees with no figs, using up good soil, just as Israel was.
A plea for mercy
Thank God for that gardener and his plea for mercy. A huge part of the role of the religious leaders in Israel was to intercede for the nation, to pray on behalf of the people for God’s mercy. We do the same thing in the Prayer of the Church, praying for the church, the world, and all in need. This is a huge part of our mission as a church – simply praying for the people that can’t pray for themselves, and even the ones that can while we’re at it.
If we are the fruitless tree, who is our gardener? Who will plea for God’s mercy for us? “Father, forgive them – they know not what they do.” Jesus’ words on the cross say it all.
Despite our actions that put him there, he prays for mankind when he is on the edge of death. In the midst of his own intense suffering, he prays for us.
If we are to have the mind and heart of Christ, we should also pray to our Father in heaven in the midst of our own suffering.
When we find ourselves in the middle of those tragedies that we can’t explain, we pray that this won’t happen to anyone else. When you find yourself in the middle of those experiences that test your spirit, you can bet that there are others interceding for you. We know Jesus is.
Sometimes we can feel like God is all anger and wrath, so we need Jesus to be on our side and save us from the Father. But Jesus prays for God’s mercy because he knows he gives it. There’s over 100 mentions of God’s mercy in the Old Testament, and often at very important moments.
At the top of Mount Sinai, when God gave Moses the Ten Commandments for the second time, he announces himself: “The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness...”
Remember that it was the Father who sent his Son into the world. We pray for God’s mercy because we know he is merciful.
Another chance
The owner of the vineyard has been patient for three long years. He’s understandably getting impatient and considers alternatives. But he listens to his gardener, who he has employed and entrusted his vineyard to.
The gardener doesn’t merely leave it there for another year. He gives it every possible opportunity to produce good fruit this time. He works the soil around it, and he puts manure down to feed it.
A quote from St Augustine: “The basket of dung, understand in its good effects. It is filthy, but it produces fruit. The gardener’s filth is the sinner’s sorrows. They who repent, repent in filthy robes; if, that is, they understand aright, and repent in truth.”
Manure isn’t pretty. Neither is repentance. Manure can save a plant from dying and even make it thrive. Repentance resurrects us and even renews our hope.
Fronting up to ourselves and being honest about who we are is not an easy thing to do. But you’ll find that the more honest you are about yourself and your standing before God, the more the words of absolution will mean when they come to you. The more deeply you recognise your desperate need for forgiveness and new life, the sweeter the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper will taste.
Not only does God keep us in the ground for another year – he gives us the most precious gift under heaven: his only Son.
Thanks be to God, who is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.
