Why do bad things happen to good people? Seems super unfair.
Why do good things happen to bad people? Again, if there is justice in the universe, you’d figure such a thing wouldn’t happen.
These questions are as old as time, and they sit underneath the questions folks asked Jesus in today’s passage. There are two situations where bad things happened, and the people are curious who is to blame for them. Did the people deserve it? Did God cause it? Did God look the other way when Pilate had people murdered? Did God not bother to warn those buried under the rubble of the fallen tower?
It’s worth going through these two incidents to see how their implications still shape our thinking today.
So, let’s start with the first scenario. Jesus is in Jerusalem. Some Galileeans (that is folks from the north) had traveled to Jerusalem to make sacrifices at the Temple. For an unknown reason, Pontius Pilate (you know, the man who will soon sit in judgment over Jesus) has ordered the killing of these folks and then took their blood and mixed it with the blood from sacrifices. This is horrible and incredibly offensive. Imagine if the mayor of our town sent police into our sanctuary to destroy our organ and graffiti the stained glass. I’d imagine you’d be pretty upset if that happened, right? They’ve mocked what we hold dear.
Pilate had earned a reputation of being an effective and cruel governor. He had the longest tenure of any of the fourteen Roman governors of Judea, so his Roman bosses liked his work. Basically, he had three jobs: to command the Roman troops in Palestine, to supervise the judiciary, and to oversee the finances. But, Pilate had contempt for Jewish religious practices.
Once, he sent the military into Jerusalem bearing banners with Emperor Tiberius’ image on them, knowingly thumbing his nose at the second commandment. The Jews were so enraged by this that they traveled the seventy miles to Pilate’s home in Caesarea and staged a five-day nonviolent protest outside of his home. Pilate then ordered that the military kill the protestors, and they responded by exposing their throats. He relented. Another time, Pilate took money from the temple treasury to to pay for an aqueduct, which the Jews protested, so Pilate sent troops. This turned into a brawl where many were killed and others trampled to death while trying to flee.
So, when folks in Jerusalem bring up this latest offense, you can imagine that they’d be pretty hot about it. They know Jesus is a remarkable teacher and healer. Rumors are spreading that he could be the Messiah, which in their minds included freeing them from the oppression of the Romans and Pilate. So, they share Pilate’s latest offense — and it’s a nasty one, folks — that Pilate killed Jews and desecrated their worship. They want to know what Jesus thinks about such a terrible event, and they want to know what Jesus might do about it. In other words, why did this horrific thing happen to good people who were just trying to be faithful?
Interestingly, Jesus redirects their question to a different one. Did this bad thing happen because they were worse sinners than those who didn’t get killed? Jesus wants people to know that there is no such thing as a better or worse sinner. Everyone is a sinner. All need to repent. And he’s also implying that there is no connection between this tragedy perpetrated by human evil and the type of life led by those who died. There’s also the question of what God will do about this. Does God punish in real time? Will Pilate and his forces get their just desserts or not?
Jesus then brings up a second scenario of suffering. In this case, it’s a tragedy that has no bad person behind it. On the southeastern corner of Jerusalem lay the pool of Siloam. The city wall next to it had a tower. That tower collapsed — no reason is given; not an earthquake; not a builder ignoring codes. The collapse took the lives of eighteen people who were next to the tower when it collapsed. Jesus asks, “Do you think those eighteen deserved to die in this manner? Were they worse than others who weren’t killed?” He ties this tragedy to the same idea. No, there is no such thing as a worse sinner, but if you do not repent, you’ll be in worse shape than them.
Life apart from God’s grace is far worse than having a tower fall on you.
In both of these scenarios, we are reminded that deserve’s got nothing to do with it. We are tempted to believe the myth that bad things are the solely the result of bad choices. Sure, sometimes they are. Our sin can destroy our lives and harm others for sure. Letting your anger fester and grow can lead to the end of a relationship or even to violence, so it’s vital that we learn how to put sin in its place through discipline, counseling, and the Spirit’s help. Our choices can be destructive and cause harm. But not everything bad that happens is because of sin, right? A house fire is not the result of God’s judgment on the homeowner.
After this quick exchange, Jesus gives us a brief parable. A man has a fig tree that is barren. For three years, this tree hasn’t done what it’s supposed to do, so it’s time to get rid of the tree and make space for one that will bear fruit. His gardener pleads for patience. “Give me one more year,” he says. “I’ll do everything I can to get this tree to change its ways.” That is, this tree is in need of repentance. But notice that there’s an expiration date on this. The gardener has one year to make the tree fruitful, otherwise judgment for the tree is coming. We may feel this is harsh, but it’s related to the deep desire we have within us about God’s patience. The Jews are asking Jesus when God is going to fix what’s wrong — get rid of Pilate and Rome, stop tragedy from happening. They want God’s judgment right now where it seems to benefit them. But are they really ready for God’s judgment for everything, including them? That is, will God act to correct the wrong in us and in the world now? Do we even want that? Are we ready for it?
I find in this passage an invitation to curiosity. Both of your pastors love the show Ted Lasso. (And I hope you heard this week’s announcement that there’s going to be a fourth season!) The main character, Ted, is an American football coach who has been hired to coach Richmond Football Club (that is, soccer) in the English Premier League. The owner, Rebecca, has the club as part of her divorce settlement from her womanizing ex-husband, Rupert. Richmond is Rupert’s pride and joy, so Rebecca wants to destroy the thing he loves the most.
Ted is clueless about soccer, but he’s a master in motivation and psychology. Rebecca has hired Ted because she believes he’ll completely ruin Richmond, only Ted slowly begins to win over the team and even Rebecca. Ted and Rebecca are at the pub when Rupert enters with his new, young girlfriend on his arm. He mocks Rebecca and Ted, showing his disdain for them. So, Ted challenges Rupert to a game of darts, putting a huge wager on the game. Rupert’s the kind of man who has his own set of darts, and he simply assumes Ted is a yokel from Kansas who has no skill.
The game starts with Rupert making great shots and taking the lead. But then Ted starts talking to Rupert and the whole pub. “Guys have underestimated me my entire life and for years I never understood why — it used to really bother me. Then one day I was driving my little boy to school, and I saw a quote by Walt Whitman, it was painted on the wall there and it said, ‘Be curious, not judgmental.’ I like that.” Ted throws a dart.
“So, I get back in my car and I’m driving to work and all of a sudden it hits me — all them fellas that used to belittle me, not a single one of them was curious. You know, they thought they had everything all figured out, so they judged everything, and they judged everyone. And I realized that their underestimating me — who I was had nothing to do with it. Because if they were curious, they would’ve asked questions. Questions like, ‘Have you played a lot of darts, Ted?’” Ted throws another dart.
“To which I would have answered, ‘Yes sir. Every Sunday afternoon at a sports bar with my father from age ten until I was 16 when he passed away.’” Ted throws a double bullseye to win the game. Embarrassed, Rupert leaves the pub and loses the wager, and Rebecca starts to rethink how she might put her life back together with Ted leading her team.
Be curious. Not judgmental.
Two weeks ago around thirty folks from this congregation started into an eight-week study called One Anothering: Choosing each other in a politically divided world. We’re only a quarter of the way through, but so far I’ve been really happy with the way this has been reframing things for us. We’ve done work looking into our past. What has shaped us? What messages from parents, churches, communities, and others have formed our worldviews. It’s been so interesting to listen to each other as we come to a deeper understanding of ourselves. We’re also trying to engage with the teachings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. We’re seeing how what Jesus taught has and has not informed how we engage with the world around us. It’s good, hard work. I am hopeful that we’ll offer many more of these groups, so if this sounds interesting to you, stay tuned.
If I had to summarize the point of this study so far, it would be this.
Be curious. About yourself. About others.
That is, I think we’re tempted to engage with the world the way Rupert does, secure and confident that we’ve got things together. It’s all settled. So, Rupert was not curious at all about Ted. He just assumed that he was better than Ted, and his assumption ultimately undercut what he wanted. When we approach the world with conviction but not curiosity, we are blind. We cannot see difference. We are not open to alternatives. We cannot engage with others in their full humanity, instead reducing them, as though they’re two-dimensional characters in our three-dimensional world
But when we approach the world with conviction AND curiosity, we have the chance to experience the beautiful complexity that God has blessed each and everyone of us with. I would add a third C to this list — compassion.
I think this is what Jesus is doing in this passage. He’s inviting everyone into a space of curiosity, conviction, and compassion. For those upset about the violence of Pilate, the invitation is to see how God is working in and through the travesty of evil. For those mourning lives lost when the tower fell, the invitation is to see how God is still at work — maybe in the lives of those trying to save those in the rubble.
Be curious, even when it’s hard work to see the abundance of God in a world so short on compassion and grace and kindness. But also, we must heed the warning light that is flashing throughout the parable. Time is precious and will not last forever. “Try as we might, none us can protect ourselves or those we love from every danger: disease, traffic accidents, crime, emotional disorders, or random violence….[these stories] should stand as graphic reminders that life is fragile, and any of us may stand before our Maker without a moment’s notice. The parable of the fig tree invites us to consider the gift of another year as an act of God’s mercy.”
Ultimately, these stories aren’t merely about those bad things that happened back then. They’re about our response today. They’re about you and me. We’re all sinners in need of repentance and grace — no better and no worse than anyone else.
The time to act is now. What would you do if you — like the fig tree in the parable — only had one year left to live? I’d hope that you’d live every day in a way that you would have no fear of giving an account to God for how you lived.
