Sermon for March 20, 2022
“A Tree Called Hope”
The Rev. Debra Slade
Last May, I organized an event at the hospital to honor the healthcare workers that had worked during the pandemic over the previous fourteen months. We used a small courtyard in the center of the hospital and invited the staff to plant new trees and shrubs that had been donated by the Norwalk Tree Alliance. Thankfully, it was a beautiful day, and many staff, particularly nurses, gave an hour or so of their time to dig and plant together. Three medium size trees were planted, and the staff gave them names. One was called Delilah the dogwood, another was called Florence after Florence Nightingale, and, because we were dedicating the courtyard that day to the healthcare workers of Norwalk Hospital, and renaming it “The Garden of Hope,” the tree that we planted at the center of the garden, was given the special name of “Hope.” It was an amazing day, and very inspiring.
However, I am sorry to tell you, with some regret and also a touch of irony, that Hope, the tree did not bloom eternally, but quickly lost her leaves, and still remains leafless and quite dead looking, almost a year later in our Garden of Hope. And the dedication plaque I had made describing the COVID-19 pandemic as being from 2020-2021 almost held up until the omicron variant burst onto the scene at the end the year and dragged the pandemic into 2022. This, combined with the devastating tragedy in the Ukraine, brings my mood, and maybe yours as well, in line with the barren tree in the garden named Hope, its name taunting me and the rest of us who had anticipated the world getting better, not worse in 2022.
And this week’s gospel from Luke, for our third week in Lent seems so appropriate for what many of us are feeling as we try to comprehend what is happening in our world these days. The first thing that becomes very apparent when we read the text is that bad things, unfair things, senseless tragedies, and ruthless rulers are not unique to our 21st century world – they have always happened, sad to say. We heard in the reading how when Jesus was travelling his country and doing his ministry, he would be approached by many people who would ask him questions. And we shouldn’t be surprised by this, should we? If we had believed that there was the possibility of the messiah in our midst, I am quite sure that we would have asked many questions as well.
By this I am reminded of the scene in the movie: “The Invention of Lying” where the main character speaks to a crowd of people in front of his home delivering a Moses type announcement but written on a pizza box instead of stone tablets. The premise of the movie is that everyone in the world must always tell the truth, not because they feel it is the right thing, but because they do not know how to lie. Of course, this means that there are no fictional things in that world like movies, novels, plays or interpretative art forms. Everything consists of boring documentaries or teaching programs, and people must always tell each other the truth such as – “yes, dear you do look fat in that dress,” and “yes, patient you will die, and after that you will disappear, and be forgotten.” It’s a comedy, written and starring Ricky Gervais. But when the doctor tells the sad truth to his mother who is about to die, Ricky’s character (the only person in the world who has figured out how to lie) tells his mother when she asks if that’s all there is, that no, she will be going on to a better place a more beautiful place. She is consoled by this, and those hearing him want to hear more about this special place, and eventually the Ricky Gervais character become a messiah like figure to the entire world answering all the questions that people want to know, and by doing so invents an entire new theology and religion through his made up, but comforting lies. If you know Ricky Gervais, you may know he is an atheist, and of course, this whole part of the movie, is his, not too subtle, thumb nose at religion, faith, and God, in general. I do recommend the movie, however, because it subtly challenges our own faith.
Now in our gospel, the people who approached Jesus were wanting answers too, and answers to the hardest of questions. They had heard that the ruler Pilate had killed Galileans, and then mixed their blood with the blood of animals they were used in their religious rituals. This was revolting and insulting, and must have seemed so evil. They also asked Jesus why eighteen people were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them, presumably a horrible accident. Both types of deaths still begged the question for the people at that time whether those deaths and suffering had somehow been those people’s faults or -- were their deaths a punishment for their sins – a concept that is seen throughout scripture both in the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament. And isn’t wanting to know the answer for these troubling events something that is so part of what makes us human? And it is not only unique to Jesus’ time. As a chaplain, I still frequently hear people wonder if their disease, accident, or approaching death might also be a punishment for their sins or a life they could have done better. And even beyond attributing bad things that happen to good people as being someone’s fault – it is at our core, as human beings -- to want to make sense of things -- to find meaning in what seems like senseless suffering.
But unlike the only man in the world who can lie in the movie, Jesus doesn’t give the people a comfortable, expected, or even pastoral answer. He says that those people that perished were just like other people, the ones that weren’t killed in Galilea or Jerusalem. In fact, they were no different than the ones who were asking him the question. He presented his followers with the cold, truthful reality that bad things can happen to anyone at any time! He says: “No, I tell you, (they weren’t greater sinners than anyone else); but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.” In other words, these events in life, if they are going to tell us anything, what they tell us is that life is indeed short (as my blessing says), and we must, we must take the unpredictable time we have left to use it in the absolutely best way possible, the way that God would want us to use it, the way that turns away from sin, turns us away from evil and turns us towards God. And when we turn towards God, as we heard in our reading from Exodus, then we are standing on holy ground. The metaphor of removing our sandals and standing on holy ground is something that we can all aspire to do each and every day of our lives. When we act, think, and believe in a loving way towards God and our neighbor, we truly have entered holy ground, and that possibility is always available to us. When Jesus tells the parable of the fig tree that did not produce fruit for three years, he is telling us that even if we do not yet stand on holy ground it is not too late. The holy gardener says to the landowner, let’s give this tree one more chance, and I will be there to help. For God, our Gardener will always give us one more chance, and will help us at the same time to grow and to produce the fruits of God. For our God is a loving and forgiving God, a God of second, third and more chances. These are Lent opportunities my friends, and this Lenten time, now, even in hard, sad times is still an opportunity for growth, to bear fruit, and to walk on holy ground.
With this knowledge and assurance, my tree called Hope will also be given a second chance. When I look at Hope, one year later, I will focus instead on what one year has meant for those who were cared for at my hospital. While the pandemic may not have ended in 2021, many, many people who contracted COVID did not die, compared to 2020, and their symptoms were manageable because of the invention of the vaccines, and the knowledge about treating COVID in and out of hospital. And the tree called Hope will also remind me of the healthcare workers who planted her, and who continued to come to work every day to take care of those who were sick, without complaint, with compassion, and with personal risks to themselves and their families. And while we personally cannot do much to stop the devastation in the Ukraine, we can commit to doing whatever we can do. We can support humanitarian relief efforts, and we can pray for all of those brave and courageous people defending themselves against oppression, and for those who are suffering at the hands of the aggressors. And like the fig tree and my tree called Hope, let us pray that second, third and more chances will bring God’s peace to the world in 2022. Amen