Can you believe it?

Sermon by Pr. Michelle Sevig on the Third Sunday in Lent + Sunday, March 23

Can you believe it? I find myself asking this a lot lately. Can you believe what they did today? I turn on the news or read something on social media and I can’t believe what’s happening. Each day a new shocker. In conversation with friends I find myself saying, “Can you even believe what’s happening?,” and we share in the shock, the sense of urgency for change, and we support each other in our quest to do something to help turn things around. 

That’s usually my initial reaction to the chaos and dysfunction happening all around us. But I’m also motivated to call my congresspeople, and work for systemic change through letter writing, protesting, and supporting those who are most vulnerable at this time. 

But, I’ll be honest, I also have a lot of times when I just want some of those in power to suffer–to get what they deserve. I’ve found I’m kind of a believer in Karma, at least the popular Western version, that bad actions made by someone will come back to haunt them, to cause them to eventually suffer. Cut funding for cancer research? I hope your whole family gets cancer.  Take a chainsaw to cut government programs and fire people from their jobs? I hope your business tanks so that you have to file for bankruptcy like so many others will have to do. 

Can you believe it? Even the pastor goes to that terrible place seeking revenge and believing there is a cause and effect to people’s suffering.  

This way of thinking is not too different from the people in today’s gospel reading who are coming to Jesus trying to make sense of the terrible events happening to the people they know and love. “Can you believe what Pilate has done this time? He slaughtered a group of Galileans and mingled their blood with sacrificial lambs. And in other news, the tower of Siloam has collapsed, crushing and killing 18 people. Can you believe it? The tragedies, the suffering, the unexplainable pain. Why? Why did these terrible things happen? Do you think it's because of their terrible sin, Jesus? Are they getting what they deserve? 

But as the crowd asks Jesus the question of who or what is to blame for these tragedies, Jesus cannot be clearer with his message that those who died were no better or worse than we are. Jesus says we have all made mistakes and lost sight of God’s will for our lives. Jesus insists that the relationship between sin and suffering is not causal—that is, God does not cause us to suffer because of our sin. Yet, Jesus reminds us that sin itself can cause us to suffer. There is no question that Pilate’s murderous deeds are sinful. And  the horrific actions perpetrated by today's tyrants both here and abroad are sinful too. And sin has consequences. Destructive behaviors, violence, the lust for power, greed (racism and all the isms?) and the quest for vengeance and retribution lead to much suffering in the world. The Church is called to speak out in opposition to these forms of suffering, and to do all in its power to combat them.

Sin causes death. Violence causes death. Domination and desire for revenge cause death. When the crowd was asking Jesus questions, hoping to trick Jesus and get an answer in their favor he told them to repent. Can you believe it? And he reminds us, too, of the urgency for repentance. He tells them that violence and revenge and domination are not the way—that they lead to death, not because God strikes down sinners, but because we strike down each other. Because the world is broken.

Every year, during the season of Lent we are called to repent--to turn our hearts and lives away from sin and brokenness, so that we can grow with God, so that we can grow in abundance and hope.

Today we are at the mid-point of Lent-half-way between Ash Wednesday, remembering that we are dust and to dust we shall return, and The great Vigil of Easter and resurrection promise. During Lent we examine the wilderness of our lives—set against the dreariness of winter, in a political arena filled with mistrust, judgment and hatred, at a time when our lives and security seem to be spinning out of control.

 Even the earth supports our Lenten practices. This past week (Thursday at 4:01 a.m. to be precise) was the Spring Vernal Equinox for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, when the sun is exactly above the Earth’s equator, causing the equal length of night and day. Some call it a perfect time for a “cathartic clear out”: Spring cleaning, yard work, a seasonal swapping of the wardrobe. Others consider the Equinox the perfect time for fasting or a cleanse. For renewal. Out with the old and in with the new. A turning around of sorts. Sounds very Lent-ish doesn’t it?  

Even as the vernal equinox turns us toward longer days, toward spring, toward resurrection, today’s readings signal for us a turning. The Psalmist recognizes our thirst, our need for God, saying “my soul thirsts for you”and encourages us to turn toward God and rest in the protection of God’s wings. Repenting, turning away from what’s harmful toward what is lifegiving, is a requirement of all human beings, and brings us toward a fuller, richer, more abundant life. 

Today’s gospel reading invites us to examine, repent, and come to terms with our own sin, but it is today’s Old Testament reading that offers us balm for the soul, good news for the weary. In the words of Isaiah, we are invited to the fullness of life.Isaiah speaks of a table of freedom where our deep thirst for God is satisfied and gnawing hunger is met with God’s steadfast love. Isaiah describes a table without limits and a God filled with mercy and pardon for all who come seeking.

When we are lost in our wilderness wanderings, pushing the limits of faith, God’s response is not punishment and wrath, but an invitation to a feast beyond our imagination. When we are caught up in a drive to be fruitful and productive to the point that we achieve only a kind of wheel spinning, God does not threaten to cut us down—but God gives us another chance, and helps nourish our souls—just as the gardener tends to a dying tree.

I don’t know about you, but I want to linger at this table for a long time. I need to drink deeply from the waters of grace and feed on this bread of life. The wilderness of life can be trying and exhausting. This week I need to transform my “Can you believe it?” to “This I believe: God’s unfailing mercies and the invitation to a feasting table is always set with holy abundance, and has my name—and your name—on a place holder.”

It is in this assembly, gathered around the table of abundance and new life we hear: You are beloved. God does not punish, God forgives. God loves you and you  belong. Believe it.