But why?

 ‘… If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down...’ (Luke 13:9)

Luke 13:1-9 (Year C: Lent 3)

Once upon a time a teacher of theology asked ‘Does God suffer?’ to which a student replied ‘Do people suffer?’. 

That people suffer is plain to everyone. That some people suffer enormously over all statistical averages is also plain to see. But, why? I have wondered too.

After a lifetime of observation it seems to me that there is no clear answer to this particular question (why people suffer as much as they do). Sure enough, much human suffering is caused by selfishness, cruelty and corruption. Sometimes those perpetrating violence that brings enormous sufferings to others may deny or rationalise it.  Even if the indiscriminate dropping of bombs from the air on densely populated cities may be rationalised as ‘less worse’ than some alternative scenario (history is full of such examples) it must surely be the case that at least some pilots, generals and other technical staff involved in bombing missions or other acts of war were traumatised by what they had done – quite apart from the unspeakable suffering of those on the ground surviving or maimed or dead. And, closer to home, there are some who have also perpetrated war in the name of a cause with terrible consequences for others that we do not hear so much about these days.

Then there is suffering caused by life and all that goes with it – getting sick, receiving a bad prognosis, seeing a loved one slip into dementia or natural catastrophes that fall upon people – good people.  Every so often some voice is raised ‘Why would your God allow such terrible things to happen?’. Those of us who believe in an infinitely compassionate and loving God, if we are honest, have no convincing or logically water-tight answer to this question. What we do know and can practice is compassion in a cruel world marked for the most part by people who are generous, courageous and virtuous.

bad things happen to good people...

When Jesus was confronted with stories of what happened in the massacre of the Galileans where the Roman soldiers ran amuck or ‘those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them’ he had to be honest with those listening.  Those listening including not a few listening today in parts of the world and the church will have notions of a fierce, vengeful and detached God who enforces cruel justice and punishes those who sin.  For these folk, wars, epidemics and various sufferings were and are the price of sin.  We are reminded of the question posed to Jesus in John 9:2 ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’.  But, in the gospel of Luke we are not told that Jesus assigned responsibility for this suffering on the victims who had broken God’s law. We know enough from reading all of the gospels and not least that of Luke that God, in Jesus Christ, came not to condemn, not to punish, not to afflict but to save, to heal and to restore.  However, suffering is the reality for all human beings and some much more than others. The point is that Jesus knew how to draw from his suffering the very power that would not deliver us from suffering here and now but lead us to a place of acceptance and conquest. ‘Bearing with it’ was not the message for those who were poor, excluded and despised as a result but rather ‘woe to you rich’ (Luke 6:24) who deprive others of goods, power and respect.

In other words we are responsible in our ways, whether we like it or not, for needless suffering as a result of things we have said and done and things we failed to say and do that we should have done. Put another way, we are individually responsible for some degree of injustice and damage in our personal relationships whether at home or at work or somewhere else.  But, the story does not end there. There is ‘structural sin’ embedded in the way that societies and polities are constructed and in the way that relationships of power and dominance operate in this world.  In a way, we can be part of, and responsible for, that too. Perhaps the saddest aspect of this type of ‘structural sin’ is that we may do it in the name of God or some other cause because we have never engaged with an alternative story or possibility. We can sit in armchairs observing the world and pontificating on how others should live not really knowing anything of their sufferings or never having faced the difficult question of how one would think or feel if this or that happened to oneself or one’s family. The saying ‘don’t knock it unless you’ve tried it’ could be rephrased ‘don’t knock it unless you have been through it yourself’. Indeed.

To say all of this is not to avoid one of the key messages in this text and which is built on a separate question of ‘why do good people suffer?’, namely: if we do not turn from lies, selfishness and cruelty towards others then we, too, will experience huge suffering and destruction (perishing). For ‘unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did’ Jesus tells us (verse 5). Life is short and eternity is long as one saying goes.  In this life we have a beautiful opportunity to live by truth, goodness and beauty. The passing of years and the experience of bereavement involving one’s parents or even the next generation – our generation – brings home the reality that life is precious and to be embraced in the here and now. The question of ‘life after death’ needs to be matched with the question of ‘life before death’.  On the latter question we can, hopefully, agree with people who do not hope beyond death. Ours is not to force our values and views on others but rather live in such a way that these same values and beliefs we say we stand by are curious, attractive, meaningful and life-giving for others – including those who given up believing and hoping a long time ago.

our time is precious...
In hearing this gospel we are reminded that our lives are precious, that there is no room for complacency and that time is constantly getting shorter. This is not a reason for gloom or neurotic anxiety about this sin or that sin, about this broken relationship or that broken relationship or about this omission and that omission. There are remedies for failure. These include a stubborn trusting in God’s mercy and help no matter what. They also include recourse to those means of grace that God puts in our way: a walk in the mountains, sharing a cup of tea with someone, a book, a project. Add to this times of grace spent in reflection, prayerful reading of the great poetry and stories of the Bible and confession.  Confession?  The Irish took the blame for inventing individual auricular confession but the practice has biblical roots.  Leave it like this:

• All may
• Some should
• None have to

In the story or parable of the fig tree we are told figuratively that following three years of trial the vines were given another year to bear fruit or face being ‘cut down’. In three year’s time a few of us may not be around to hear this particular Gospel reading on the 3^rd Sunday of Lent (Year C).  Most of us will be around but of one thing we can be sure – if we live we will be three years closer to death.  The time for repentance or metanoia in Greek – is now. A metanoia of heart, mind, attitude and behaviour now.  That is the key message in this week’s reading from Luke. The now of the Gospel.

Many are the regrets of some as they enter the final third of their living years. But, one regret we will not have is that we loved too much and lovingly gave away too much whether by virtue of time, money and our very own lives. The question of human suffering is seen for what it is – a call to compassion.

postscript

The story is told of someone who was about to quit a very busy career at fifty something and said ‘I am burnt out, cynical and have nothing further to contribute. Anyway look at my age’.  A kind friend two decades older than her said: ‘if only I was your age again’.