One thing we learn from our Gospel reading for this Third Sunday of Lent is bad things happen to good people. In other words, when something bad befalls someone, it is not an indication that God is punishing them. It isn't even the case that because he is upset with them, God, withdrawing divine protection, permits bad things to happen those who might have reason to believe they displeased God. Isn't it sometimes the case that we inflict God's punishments on ourselves?
Here's something that may not go down well, at least not initially: there are times when you should have a guilty conscience. In this context, it bears noting that we often link guilt with shame so as to dismiss it. Genuine guilt, however, results from the recognition I have done something wrong or perhaps failed to do something good. But guilt is good if it helps me to repent.
Jesus's message in today's Gospel is straightforward: Repent! Someday you, too, will die just like the Galileans killed by Pilate, just like those crushed by the tower. He follows questions prompted by contemporary events by telling the parable of a fruitless fig tree. The fig tree in the parable has produced no fruit for three years. Rather than cut the tree down, the gardener convinces the owner of the orchard to cultivate and fertilize it, thus giving the tree one more year to produce fruit.
In a recent Renovaré podcast, Trent Hudson discusses Lent with host Nathan Foster. Relevant to Jesus's message in our Gospel reading, Hudson calls the season of Lent a "time-gift." It seems that the additional year given to the fruitless fig tree is also a time-gift.
How are we fertilized and cultivated? I think we can consider the sacraments, especially penance and the Eucharist, as fertilizer and the fundamental spiritual disciplines of prayer and fasting as the means of cultivation. Alms-giving, then, is the fruit we are to bear.
The Vinedresser and the Fig Tree, by James Tissot, c. 1895
The theological virtues of faith, hope, and love correlate nicely with the three fundamental spiritual disciplines: prayer, fasting, and alms-giving. Prayer aligns with faith, fasting with hope, and alms-giving with love (i.e. agape or caritas). Hope is the flower of faith and charity is its fruit.
If the sacraments of penance and Eucharist are spiritual fertilizer, then baptism, as St. Paul indicates in our reading from his First Letter to the Corinthians, is the flowing stream beside which we are planted. This stream of living water not only sustains us but, along with the nutrients, allows us to grow. You need to be continually nourished or you'll perish: "whoever thinks he is standing secure should take care not to fall."
Since this reflection on the readings is already rife with metaphor and allegory, one more won't hurt. The gardener in Jesus's parable is the Lord himself. This makes the orchard owner the Father. Each one of us, then, serve as the allegory for the fig tree. As our responsorial Psalm powerfully asserts
Merciful and gracious is the LORD,Rather than complacency and presumption, God's lovingkindness, his mercy, his hesed, should increase our faith by giving us hope and inspiring us to perform acts of lovingkindness, or hesed, especially for those who are in need, according to their need. Such acts are the deliciously ripe fruit the Lord expects his disciples to bear.
slow to anger and abounding in kindness.
For as the heavens are high above the earth,
so surpassing is his kindness toward those who fear him
In her extensive commentary on the chapter of the Rule of St. Benedict concerning the reception of new members by the monastery, Esther de Waal, noting that faith is a journey that a monk paradoxically commits to undertake by remaining in one place, thus indicating that it is an interior pilgrimage, asks the question you should ask yourself this Lent: "Do I turn to Christ?" De Waal points out that when asked sincerely, this question, while straightforward, is "also quite terrifying."
Nonetheless, she continues, "Do I turn to Christ?" is "a question that I am asked at intervals throughout life." If at no other time, she observes, I am asked this question each year at the Easter Vigil when, along with my sisters and brothers, I renew the promises I made at my baptism. It is only in "the context of the paschal mystery that I can fully appreciate what is implied in my own obedience" to God.
Christ was obedient to the Father to the point of death. Jesus's passion leaves us no doubt about what Bonhoeffer called "the cost of discipleship." Lent is a time-gift the church gives us each year. This gift is given to prepare you to answer this most important question. I urge you not to squander God's gift of time. Don't fret about what is passed. If you need to, start today. If today you hear God's voice, harden not your heart (see Hebrews 3:15).
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