(Luke 13.1-9) Lent 3
24 March 2019 – © Neil Millar
In 2004, on Boxing Day, near Sumatra, an earthquake registering 9.1 on the Richter scale quake triggered a series of massive tsunamis that devastated communities along the surrounding coasts of the Indian Ocean. All up, nearly 230,000 people died. Understandably, a tragedy like this generates a huge community response, and on social media, a lot of comment. A perspective that I found particularly disturbing, was the suggestion of some Christians that this event was God’s judgment on these people for their false religion. More recently, American televangelist Pat Robertson claimed that an earthquake in Haiti was caused by its people’s having earlier made a ‘pact with the devil’. There are other tragic incidents, that Robertson and others have explained away as acts of divine judgement. Writing about this, National Review journalist Peter Wehner, noted that Robertson’s thinking is as ‘neat and clean as a mathematical equation’:
God grants blessings and curses on nations and people based on their allegiance and obedience to Him. If things are going well, you’re living right; if things are going badly, you’re living wrong. And (he adds, rather cynically) it is Robertson himself who can divine the hierarchy of sins that most trouble God.
Well, this recourse to ‘divine judgment’ as an explanation for disaster may be restricted to certain right-wing Christians, but more generally, there is a tendency to blame sufferers for their circumstances. Victims of rape or domestic violence get blamed for inciting it; the unemployed get blamed for being lazy, the homeless for their poor decision making, drug addicts for lacking discipline, Aboriginal people for drinking and having no ambition, and so it goes. It happens a lot and, if today’s reading is anything to go on, it’s been happening for a long time. So, what does Jesus have to say about it? Why is this habit of blaming so common and what can we do with it?
This section Barbara read for us, is part of a longer conversation with crowds that had flocked to hear Jesus. In the course of his teaching, certain members interject with news of a local atrocity — some Galilean pilgrims to Jerusalem had been slaughtered by Pilate while offering their sacrifices at the temple. In the text, it’s like they just report this to Jesus, but it seems that discerns a tone of superiority or judgmentalism in their comment, and he responds in no uncertain terms. ‘Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way, they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?’ In other words, are you assuming they copped it because they deserved it? ‘No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.’ Ow!! That’s telling ‘em! And, he’s not done yet. ‘Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think they were worse offenders than the others living in Jerusalem?’ — (i.e. that they were particularly deserving of this punishment)? ‘No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.’
What Jesus is confronting here, is exactly this tendency to explain tragedy by suggesting that the victims were bad and so deserved it. Now friends, why do we do this? Does it have something to do with our unwillingness to accept (or believe) that we are vulnerable to such tragedy, that it could happen to us? I mean, isn’t this what Job’s friends were suggesting to poor old Job as he sat there devastated in the dust of his suffering and loss. Job protests his innocence and questions how God could let this happen, and his friends keep saying: ‘You must’ve done something, Job, must deserve it, otherwise it wouldn’t have happened.’ They seem unreceptive to seeing it differently, as if, by ceding this logic, they’d have to accept that it could happen to them.
That’s the thing, if we can somehow explain it away, assign blame, then in this logic, we’re safe, ‘cause we’re not like them. But are we? Not according to Jesus. ‘Unless you repent, you will all perish’, he says (twice!) On the surface it sounds harsh and moralistic, but let me tease out what I think he’s getting at.
First, this word ‘repent’. What does Jesus mean when he uses this term? The Greek word for ‘repent’ is metanoia – meta meaning change, and noia from nous, meaning ‘mind’ or ‘thinking’. Literally, change or turn around your way of thinking. This is more than switching ideas, it refers to a complete change of perspective, to repent is to change our way of seeing and being in the world — a change of mind, heart and action. If we are in the habit of distancing ourselves and blaming victims for their circumstances we need to repent, Jesus says, to change our way of seeing their circumstances and of being with them. What we are to become, how we’re to be towards these people is not spoken of directly here. although it is inferred. In other places Jesus makes it very clear – think, for example, of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10) who ‘came near’ to the man who lay dying in the gutter rather than the others, who passed on the other side of the road – not wanting to be involved, contaminated, made unclean. From remoteness and separation to neighbourly compassion — that’s what repentance looks like. Exactly what we’ve seen and been so touched by in Jacinda Ardern’s response to victims of the Christchurch shooting — a willingness to stand in solidarity – ‘We cannot know your grief, but we can walk with you at every stage. We can. And we will, surround you with aroha, manaakitanga and all that makes us, us.’ (Aroha – love and affection; manaakitanga – hospitality, kindness, generosity, support).We’re seeing some of this in Australia, and here’s to a whole lot more.
Which brings me to the second confronting word in Jesus response — ‘perish’. ‘Unless you repent or you will all perish, he says. With this bigger sense of what repentance is, it makes sense that without it we will all perish; not because God’s going to whack us with a big stick but because we’ll destroy ourselves. The Christchurch tragedy was a hate crime, carried out by people who believe that Muslims deserve it; the tragic outworking of a perspective that ‘others’ people on the basis of race, religion and colour. So, how did these ‘white supremacists’ come to this perspective? What incited them to execute this heinous plan? I don’t know their upbringing, but I’ll bet there’s violence and humiliation in there somewhere. Deep disappointment and pain that’s fed on the toxic ranting of social media and the constant drivel of opinionated radio shock jocks. And, sadly, all of this legitimated in recent years by the unsavoury talk and actions of opportunistic political leaders — things like the cynical proposing and careless backing of Pauline Hanson’s motion, ‘it’s okay to be white’, xenophobic comments by Fraser Anning, the softening of racial discrimination laws, George Brandis’ comment that ‘people have the right to be bigots’. What rubbish! If people have a right to be bigots, then God help us all, because that’s a one-way ticket to the kind of destruction we saw in Christchurch. Friends, a commitment to freedom of speech is not a license to air vile and vindictive opinions, and to incite violence against other human beings, it’s an invitation to responsible and respectful truth-telling, to compassionate listening and critical thinking – to speech that frees!! It’s true, you can’t legislate against bigotry, but you can contribute to a climate where it foments, and in that sort of climate, ultimately, no one is safe – as Jesus said: ‘we will all perish’.
Of course, most of us deplore such comments and behaviour, it’s not what we stand for. But, in truth, mostly we let most of it pass with little more than a shake of the head. We hope it’ll go away, that will address it, but is this enough? Is this what true repentance looks like? ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for the rest of us to do nothing’, Edmund Burke once wrote. ‘There comes a time when silence is betrayal’, said Martin Luther King. ‘Unless you repent, you will all perish’, said Jesus.
It has been amazing seeing so many standing up and speaking out this past week. These are signs of the change of heart that Jesus calls for in this passage. It’s what’s needed if we’re to survive and thrive as a richly diverse global society — standing up, speaking out; standing with, staying close.
Those Galileans in Jerusalem, the 18 killed by the tower, the thousands drowned by tsunamis, all those affected by the shooting in Christchurch; did they somehow responsible for what happened, did they deserve it? No, these were senseless disasters. What they, what all victims of tragedy deserve is to be surrounded with aroha and manaakitanga. But, what difference does this make in the midst of so much pain, so much distrust and hate?
What’s the use of this little hand;
What’s the use of this little eye;
What’s the use of this little mouth
When all the world is broken?
Michael Leunig writes in one of his poems. I get it, how can I make a difference in the face of such anguish? Shouldn’t I just keep my head down, my mouth shut and my door closed – get on with my life? No, says Leunig:
Make a cake with this little hand;
Make a tear with this little eye;
Make a word with this little mouth
When all the world is broken.
We’ve seen how Jacinda Ardern’s willingness to bear and be undefendedly with the pain of her community has enabled her to be an authentically reconciling presence in the world this week. That’s what the willingness to bear and be with victim can do, this is what repentance looks like, so friends, let us:
Make a cake with this little hand;
Make a tear with this little eye;
Make a word with this little mouth
When all the world is broken.
https://stninians.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/NM.Lk13.1-9.pdf