Stuff Happens

Stuff Happens

Ten weeks ago 16,255 homes, businesses and other buildings were destroyed and 29 people died in the Palisades and Eaton fires here in Southern California. 

Last weekend, a deadly series of storms across the US South and Midwest leveled homes and businesses and killed 42 people.  Wildfires swept across Oklahoma and destroyed 400 homes.  In Kansas, a dust storm led to a highway pileup involving at least 50 vehicles in which 8 people were killed.

Four weeks ago, 68 people were killed when heavy rains in the Philippines caused a landslide that destroyed a gold-mining village.  Another 51 are still missing and presumed dead.

Twenty-six people were killed when a train was hijacked by a militant group in Pakistan, and a fire in a nightclub in North Macedonia left 59 people dead.

Last Saturday, under orders of the President, US Immigration & Customs deported hundreds of Venezuelans to a brutal prison in El Salvador in defiance of a court order instructing them to turn the planes around.  As a result, many legal experts are saying that our country is now in a full-blown constitutional crisis.

There is no shortage of tragedy in our world.  On any given day, in any given week, horrible things happen to people.  And when horrible things happen, one of our first instincts is to look for somewhere to lay the blame.

Sometimes it’s easy to pinpoint the source of the tragedy and fix the blame on the responsible party or parties.  I think we could all agree on who is primarily culpable for the slaughter and destruction in Ukraine.  But knowing who to blame and knowing the motives behind their aggression only makes the carnage more horrible.

It isn’t always easy to decide who or what has caused a tragedy.  Sometimes—far too often—we blame the victims.  What were those people in the Philippines thinking when they built their houses on an unstable hillside?  

Some people blame God when horrible things happen.  When a horrendous earthquake killed more than 100,000 people in Haiti in 2010, evangelist Pat Robertson said that God was punishing the people of Haiti because in 1804 they had made a deal with the devil to drive out their French colonial overlords.  He didn’t say why God waited 106 years to exact this punishment.  Robertson also claimed that Hurricane Katrina, which devastated New Orleans and killed more than 1800 people in 2005, was God’s punishment for allowing abortion, gay rights, and other liberal policies to continue in the U.S. 

We might think Robertson’s ideas are Loony Tunes, but a surprising number of people still see the world that way.  The idea that calamity is God’s punishment for sin is as old as humanity.  In the Book of Job, when Job is afflicted with one heartbreak after another, the three friends who come to offer him moral support yammer on for days insisting that Job must have offended God in some way.  When Job resolutely insists that he is innocent, their response is pretty much, “Well you must have done something!”  In the end, though, God puts an end to their speculation about what Job might or might not have done. “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?” says God. “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?  Go on, tell me if you’re so smart.”   The message in the end is that, while God may have allowed Job to suffer, God didn’t cause Job’s troubles.

While Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem, some people brought up the issue of some Galileans whom Pilate had killed mingling their blood with their sacrifices.  It’s important to note that this wasn’t just Pilate being randomly cruel and bloodthirsty, although he was certainly capable of that.  The Galileans in question were almost certainly executed for being resistance fighters in the endless underground campaign against Rome’s occupation.  

So why was the crowd asking Jesus about this?  Were they thinking he would be scandalized by it?  Did they think he would be shocked that Pilate would not only kill these Galileans but would also profane their sacrifice?  Did they think that maybe, since Jesus was also a Galilean, he might be angry enough to join the zealots who were fighting against Rome?  Or did they simply want him to share his thoughts on why God would do this or allow it to happen?  Was God punishing those Galileans for some reason?  Was their sin really so awful that they deserved to die that way?  

So Jesus asks them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?  No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.  Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?  No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

Stuff happens.  Do you think God or Karma or the universe was punishing the people of Pacific Palisades and Altadena because they were worse sinners than everyone else in California?  No.  That’s not how it works.  And those forty-two who were killed by tornadoes—do you think they were snuffed out because they were the most awful people in that part of the country?  No.  God doesn’t work that way.  But… unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.  

What did Jesus mean by that?  Repent is such a ponderous and dreary word. It’s all about regret and contrition. The Greek word, though—metanoia, the word that we translate as “repent”—that word is full of possibility.  Metanoia means a change of heart, a change of mind, a change of viewpoint, a change of direction.  Metanoia might start with contrition, but it doesn’t end there.  Metanoia is always a way forward.  

Jesus is telling them, “Unless you change the way you see and understand life, unless you change the way you see and understand God and how God works, you’re all going to be lost the same as they were.  You’ll die in your ignorance.  Death can sneak up on you or catch you by surprise, and when it does, you’ve lost your opportunity to embrace the life and love of God and for that matter, the life and love of humanity.  You’ve lost your opportunity to do justice and love kindness and walk humbly with God and humankind and the rest of creation.  You’ve lost your opportunity to make a positive difference in the world.

To bring home the point, he told them a parable.  A story.  “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it but he didn’t find any.  So he said to the gardener, ‘Look,  for three years now I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none.  Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’  The gardener replied, “Sir, leave it alone for another year.  I’ll dig around it and put manure on it.  Maybe it will bear fruit next year.  But if not, then you can cut it down.’”

A lot of us were taught in Sunday School to read parables as allegories.  So if we did that with this parable, the land owner would be God and the fig tree would be some unproductive person who is not doing anything to improve the world, and the gardener who wants to spare the tree and work with it would be Jesus.  That’s the Sunday School explanation.

Reading the parable that way has some merit, but it also has some problems.  “Allegorical readings,” said Amy-Jill Levine, “can speak to eternal truths and ultimate longings. Yet…such readings rarely produce a challenge and rarely offer a surprise; rather, they confirm standard Christian views.  A second problem with the traditional allegories…is that they cannot convey what a parable would have meant to its original audience.  Allegories require keys, so that readers know that the elements given in the tale correspond to very particular elements on the outside.  As these allegories were developed much later, that original audience would not have had the key.”[1]

How would you hear this parable if, instead of treating it as an allegory, you put yourself into the story?  What would you hear if you were to sit inside the parable, put on its characters for a moment and let them speak to you and through you?  What questions would this parable prompt you to ask yourself if you let it be more than a simple morality tale?  

For instance:  Am I like the absentee landowner?  Have I avoided getting my hands dirty by keeping my distance from those places and moments where life and death actually happen?  Have I been pronouncing judgment from the sidelines?  Have I been seeing the value of things only in terms of whether or not they are productive in some measurable, consumable, marketable way?  Have I been looking at life through the lens of cost/benefit analysis, weighing how people and other living things consume resources and take up time and space?  Do I need to be persuaded to see possibilities, to extend a little patience and grace?  Do I need to show some empathy?

Am I like the fig tree?  Am I failing in some way to nurture and nourish others?  Am I holding on to space and resources that could be used more productively to sustain others?  Am I throwing shade over someone else’s life and preventing them from growing or fulfilling their potential?  Am I willing to change or let myself be changed, to “repent,” to take the path of metanoia so I can learn to bring more love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, and gentleness into the world around me?  Am I taking life—being alive—for granted and neglecting the gift that God has given me to be present and aware and alive in this amazing God-filled world?

Am I like the gardener?  Am I willing to get my hands deep into the dirt and manure of life if it will bring someone else some grace, give someone else a chance to grow and bloom and become what they were made to be?   Am I willing to give time and energy and sweat and love and hope to help someone else thrive?

Why do horrible things happen?  Jesus is not going to answer that question…  because “Why?” is not a life-giving question.  Jesus is not going to play the blame game, because placing blame doesn’t heal anyone or help the survivors.  Instead, Jesus tells us a story to remind us that life is both precious and precarious, to remind us that we are interconnected and our choices affect each other, and to remind us that time is not on our side.  He reminds us that there are forces at work in the world which, like the land owner, would cut us down without hesitation or remorse.  But his story also reminds us that the force of love and life is also in the world, a force that is willing to go elbow deep in muck and manure to give us a chance to grow and thrive and bear good fruit.  

Fred Rogers once said to his television friends in Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things on the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping.’”

I was reminded of Mr. Rogers’ good advice the other day when I read about the group of masons that has banded together to form Save the Tiles.  These volunteers are racing against the clock to rescue valuable Batchelder and other historic ceramic tiles from Altadena homes destroyed by the Eaton fire before the Army Corps of Engineers bulldozes the burned out houses to the ground.  The group is using their special skills to retrieve the tiles and return them to the owners of the burned homes so the owners can use them in the construction of their new homes.   

Look for the helpers.

When Russia invaded Ukraine three years ago we saw a steady stream of stories about violence, destruction and devastation.  But there were also stories about the extraordinary things people did to help the people of Ukraine survive their nightmare.  

Border guards, volunteers and ordinary people lined the sides of the wooden pedestrian bridge across the Tisza river with stuffed animals and toys so that refugee children crossing from Ukraine into Romania could, as one volunteer put it, “enter the country with a nice thought.” 

An organization called Deaf Bridge, which had been working in Ukraine to help establish church ministries for deaf and hearing impaired people, quickly shifted to helping deaf people in Ukraine find shelter and escape routes.  Also, since deaf people can’t hear air raid sirens, they taught them to look for visual cues and paired them with hearing persons so that they would know when danger was imminent.

Polish parents left baby strollers in Poland’s railway stations for refugee parents to use when they arrived with their babies in their arms and their childcare necessities in a backpack.

Volunteers arrived in Poland from all over the world to work with World Central Kitchen which is still providing food for refugees and also for Ukrainian cities where food is in short supply.  

Life is both precious and precarious.  Horrible things do happen on a daily basis.  We are living in a difficult time and it feels like the ground is shifting under our feet.  There is always someone who is all too ready to cut down the tree.  

But there is also always someone who is ready to try to save it, someone who is willing to stand up to those who wield the axe, someone who is willing to dig around the roots and even sink their hands into the muck to give it another chance at life.  

So who, in this story, are you?



[1] Short Stories by Jesus, Amy-Jill Levine, p.128

The Joy of (Re)Connecting

Luke 15:1-10

So this one time, some Pharisees and religion teachers were getting all cranky because Jesus was having way too much fun with the wrong crowd.  Tax collectors and known sinners—you know, those people who color outside the lines where the religious boundaries are concerned—these kinds of people kept coming to listen to him and he didn’t shoo them away or disrespect them or anything. On the contrary, he would welcome them and invite them to join the discussion!  Sometimes he would even break bread with them.  Basically, he treated them like they were all old friends at a reunion.

This didn’t sit well with the holier-than-thou guardians of propriety.  They didn’t think associating with “those people” was appropriate for a well-known rabbi, especially one with such a growing following.  They thought he should be setting an example for the rabble.  Well, he actually was setting an example, it just wasn’t the one they wanted him to set.   So they were grumbling about him.

Jesus overheard all their crabby comments, of course.  He thought about calling them out on their snooty attitude, but what good would that do?  It would just make them defensive and even more stand-offish when what he really wanted was for them to loosen up and join the party.  So he tried to reframe their thinking with a couple of hypothetical scenarios.

“Suppose a guy has a hundred sheep,” he said, “and one of them wanders off and gets lost.  “Won’t he leave the other ninety-nine in the wilderness to go search for the one that is lost until he finds it?  And when he finds it, he will joyfully carry it home on his shoulders.  And when he gets home, he will call all his friends and neighbors and say, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep!’  It’s like that.  There is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people.

“Or how about this—suppose a woman has ten silver coins on her necklace and she loses one.  Won’t she light a lamp and sweep the entire house and get down on her knees to sweep under furniture until she finds it?  And when she does find it, she’ll call all her neighbors and friends and say, ‘Rejoice with me!  I’ve found my lost drachma!  It’s just like that!” said Jesus.  “There is joy in the presence of God’s angels when even one sinner repents!”     

Now I am absolutely sure that some of the people listening to Jesus spin these hypotheticals were chuckling, and I am just as sure that some of them were scratching their heads because there is some obvious craziness in these little stories.  Leave ninety-nine sheep in the wilderness while you go off searching for one?  Who would do that?  And sheep don’t repent.  Coins don’t repent.  And is it really repentance?  The sheep didn’t do anything to help himself be found—he didn’t wander home all sheepish about being lost.  The silver coin didn’t roll itself over to rejoin the other nine coins on the necklace. 

Or are these stories allegories maybe?  Is the shepherd God?  But does God leave ninety-nine obedient sheep at risk in the wilderness to go find the one that’s lost?  Maybe.  But that does raise questions, especially if you’re one of the ninety-nine.  

So maybe God is like the reckless shepherd who puts everything at risk to find the one lost sheep. Maybe God is like the woman who drops everything and lights a lamp and cleans house until she finds that lost silver drachma.  Maybe.

Or maybe something else is going on here.  Sheep and coins don’t repent—at least not the way we usually understand repentance.  They don’t apologize.  They don’t have a change of mind or a change of heart.   

But what if Jesus is giving us a new definition of repentance?  What if repentance is not about clearing some kind of moral bar?  What if it’s not about moral rectitude or moral correction?  What if repentance is about being brought back to where you fit in God’s grand design, being brought back into the community and communion?  What if repentance is about crossing all those artificial barriers we put up between each other, those barriers that divide us into opposing camps?

Maybe repentance is about being brought back together.  Maybe it’s about reconnecting.[1]

That would explain this other thing.  Did you notice how many times Jesus mentions joy in these two little stories?  Five times!  The shepherd carries the sheep joyfully! He calls out to his neighbors to Rejoice with me!  Jesus says there is joy in heaven when a lost sinner is reconnected with the community.  The woman who finds her lost coin calls out to her neighbors Rejoice with me!  And once again, Jesus says there is joy in the presence of the angels when even one lost sinner is reunited with companions.  It’s all about the joy!

Jesus wanted the Pharisees to understand that they were missing out on the joy!  He wanted them to understand that there is joy in making connections with people you might ordinarily be reluctant to associate with.  There is joy when we step out of our clique or private club to go out and meet the wider world.  

Matt Harding is a guys who knows all about that.  

Matt was living the dream.  He was working as a Video Game Developer, creating new games for Activision, one of the biggest companies in the business.   He was kicking around ideas for a new game with his team one day, when somebody suggested, “Let’s do a ‘shoot ‘em up’ game.  Those are very popular.”  Matt said sarcastically, “Sure.  How about Destroy all Humans?[2]  Matt was being facetious, but the boss liked the idea and gave the game a green light. And that’s when Matt quit.  “I didn’t want to spend two years of my life writing a game about killing everyone,” he said.  

Now Matt had time on his hands, and a fair bit of savings, so he decided to see the world.  One day in Saigon, Matt was in kind of a goofy mood so he did this funny little dance in front of a restaurant, which his travel buddy caught on video.  It gave them a good laugh, so they decided that they would do this everywhere they were going on their trip around the world. 

When they got home, they cut together all these fun little clips to create a three minute video of Matt dancing in all kinds of interesting places all over the world.  And that would have been the end of it, except that Matt’s sister uploaded the video to this new thing called YouTube™.     

Dancing Matt became an internet phenomenon almost overnight.  So Matt decided to go out into the world and do it again, only this time he would invite people to dance with him.  And dance they did.  Over a period of about 15 years he recorded and posted six Dancing Matt videos which have brought joy to people all over the world.  (You can find all of them at www.wheretheheckismatt.com.) 

When NPR asked Matt what he had learned as he danced through the world, he said, “Here’s what I can report back: People want to feel connected to each other. They want to be heard and seen, and they’re curious to hear and see others from places far away. I share that impulse. It’s part of what drives me to travel.”

In her TED talk about Vulnerability, Brené Brown said, “A deep sense of love and belonging is an irreducible need of all people.  We are biologically, cognitively, physically, and spiritually wired to love, to be loved, and to belong.  When those needs are not met, we don’t function as we were meant to.  We break.  We fall apart.  We numb.  We ache.  We hurt others.  We get sick.”

Right now our country is in a grumbling mood…and so is much of the rest of the world.  We’re not functioning as we were meant to.  We have found too many ways to separate ourselves from each other.  We have turned too many people into “those people,” the ones we don’t want to be seen with. As a result, we’re missing the joy.  We’re missing the celebration.

We need to repent, not with apologies or penance, but by reconnecting.  We need to find our way back into where we fit in God’s grand design, into community and communion.  We need to bring ourselves back together.  And maybe even dance with strangers.  Because that’s where the joy is.


[1] Special Thanks to Prof. Matt Skinner and Sermon Brainwave for this perspective.

[2] Destroy All Humans is in its 7th version and is available on multiple platforms.  Clearly there’s money in nihilism.