Turning on the Question

[00:00:01] Speaker A: So it's been my practice over the last few weeks of calling out those in the congregation who loaned me the particular article of clothing that I'm wearing on the particular Sunday when I'm preaching. Well, I'm not going to do that today, all right? And the reason I'm not is this particular shirt happens to have been the shirt I was wearing on that January 7th day when we were evacuated. And then I word again on that January 8th day when we learned that our house, together with thousands of other houses in the Altadena area and the Pacific Palisades area, had burned to the ground. Well, this past Monday, Jill and I drove to the site of our former house on 2266 Norwich plus. We went there to meet a team of Christian volunteers from an organization called Samaritan's Purse. There's a picture of them in hazmat suits working on the remains of our home, trying to find items of value that might be discovered there before we have the debris removed. And here's a picture of that crew with us. After we had finished sifting, we found a number of my snap on tools that I've had since the days I was an auto mechanic. And those are precious to me. I was really grateful we found them. They need a little cleaning, but they're okay. They survived, as did a number of other tools that Jeff and Robin Howard and Allison Curtis and Jonathan McFarland helped me recover from my toolboxes some weeks before. It was wonderful to have those in my hand again. But the best find of this past Monday was undoubtedly this. It's a little blue ceramic bird that you can hold in the palm of your hand. Back when our daughter Lucy was about 6 years old, my wife Jill and I, together with Lucy, took a trip to Cambria, and we visited the stores in Cambria full of crafts made by local artisans. Jill told Lucy she could search for and select one inexpensive item to buy for herself. And after visiting several stores, they came to one that had an overhead display of these handcrafted ceramic birds. Lucy found what she was looking for. Jill purchased one of those birds. And Lucy kept it cupped in her hands for much of that day. That precious little gift. It's the only thing in Lucy's bedroom that survived the Eaton fire. Jill put it on the card table that's become our dining room table in our temporary home at Monte Vista Grove Homes. And I'm so grateful she did that, for it's become for me a daily reminder of how life and beauty and great memories can emerge from the ashes of the Eaton fire. But as I drove north on Monday to visit the site of our former house, I couldn't help but being vexed by a question. Perhaps this question has arisen for you as well. So I drove north on Altadena Drive and had just passed Washington when I saw, over to my left, Callisto Tea House, exactly the place where I had purchased a bag of tea to put in Jill's stocking for Christmas just a month or so before. It didn't show any visible signs that it had been hit by the fire. It looked just as it did before. And then on the other side of the street, on the east side of North Altadena Drive, I saw what was now the remains, the fire. Charred remains of the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center, the very place where Jill and I had attended Yom Kippur services at the gracious invitation of the rabbi. And it seemed so strange to me, one building standing, another reduced to ruins. Then I went further up North Altadena Drive, made a left on Mendocino, and as I was driving down, I looked right and left, and all the homes were just fine. It seemed like they hadn't been touched. People were walking in front of their houses, and I thought, wow, was I dreaming that this fire took place? And then eventually, in Mendocino, I made my way to where the Altadena Country Club used to be, and I saw what remains of it now. And then I made my way finally to R Street, Norwich Place. And as I prepared to make the left, I saw on that northeast corner of Norwich Place how one single house had survived, a single story house that was occupied by a lovely Jewish couple, one of whom had long been a cantor. Every other house on our particular block was reduced to ruins. And the question that emerged in my mind was simply this. Why? Why should this house be standing and this burned to the ground? Now, let me be clear. My question is not so much how this happened. I could see, looking at which houses were burned and which were not how fire might have traveled. I know well that with the impact of global warming, the stage was set for disasters precisely like the one I endured. I knew that we had a wet 2023 that built up plenty of combustible material. And then we had a dry 2024 followed by a very warm January. You add incredibly high winds to that mix, winds that can shoot a burning ember so far, in seconds. And I've got my how. But why, I wondered. Why do bad things happen to some and not to others? What's the Meaning behind this sight before my eyes, one house burned, another still standing. Well, since the Eaton and Palisades fires may have prompted this question for you as well, I thought we might explore it this morning. But what passage from Scripture might we look to as we listen for God's word? To this question of why bad things happen to some and not to others. And you might be thinking a passage from Job. Great thought. Certainly that book from the Old Testament has much to say on the topic. But I found myself yearning to hear from our Savior on this question. But as I searched the Gospels, I found what you have surely found before as well. Our Savior does not often speak directly to that question of why bad things happen to some and not to others. Instead, it's as if our Savior is just swimming in a host of bad things happening to a whole host of people, and he's welcoming in sinners to his table. All people. Illnesses and injustice and hunger and demonic forces and power hungry leaders and death and loss and tragedy and sin. They abound in the Gospels. It's the backdrop of our Savior's ministry. And it's precisely in that dark, grim setting that our Savior's ministry shines like the glory of God here on earth. But I did recall one time our Savior at least makes reference to this question of why bad things happen to some and not to others. It's from a story that that shows up in only one of the four Gospels, the Gospel of Luke. And in this passage we get to hear, as we often do in the Gospels, not from the gentle, comforting Jesus, that Jesus we get to hear from in passages like Matthew 11. You know, where he says, come unto me all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you'll find rest for your souls. No, today we get to hear from the prophetic Jesus, the confrontational Jesus, the Jesus who seems bound and determined to wake a people up lest they sleepwalk to their demise. Let's listen now for God's word to us. As Nora reads it from Luke 13. [00:08:55] Speaker B: Please pray with me. Lord, open our hearts and minds by the power of your Holy Spirit, that as the Scriptures are read and your word is proclaimed, we may hear what you say to us today. Amen. Today's reading is from Luke 13, verses 1 through 5. At that very time, there were some present who told Jesus about the Galileans, whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way, they were worse sinners than all the other Galileans. No, I tell you, but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those 18 who were killed when the Tower of Siloam fell on them, do you think that they were worse offenders than all the other people living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you. But unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did. This is the word of the Lord. [00:09:59] Speaker A: Will Willimon was the former dean of Chapel at Duke University, and he tells the story of how he once had this sad pastoral duty. It was his responsibility to tell a woman her child had been struck by a rare, often fatal illness. He told her, your little boy may not make it. The woman, enraged, grabbed Williman by the lapel, pushed her face up to his and said, all right, preacher, tell me, why did this happen to my little boy? What did we do to deserve this? What did we do to deserve this? The woman's words revealed a popular and age old assumption as to why bad things happen to some and not to others. Those who suffered loss, those stricken by tragedy, must have done something to deserve it. This notion was clearly popular back in Jesus time. For we read in John's Gospel of how Jesus and disciples were walking one day and they spot a man who was born blind. And the disciples asked Jesus, rabbi, tell us, was it this man's sin or was it the sin of his father or parents that caused this man to be born blind? Whose sin was it? The assumption, of course, was that somebody's sin had to be behind it, for bad things happen as a result of human misdeeds and moral failures. If my house burned down and my neighbors did not, either I or my wife or daughter, or perhaps my parents must be guilty of some greater sin than my neighbors whose one story house survived. Those who suffer loss must have done something to deserve it. That was the assumption a village prison priest held in the Thornton Wilder novel the Bridge of San Luis Rey. That titular bridge was one that villagers in the South American region would cross each day as they went to work in the fields. Well, one day in this novel, without warning, the bridge snapped and six people fell to their death. Why those six and not others? A priest in the village thought he had the answer. And he set out to prove without a shadow of a doubt that those six who lost their lives were greater sinners than those who did not. And he studiously, carefully, fully researched the lives of all those in the village to try and see what distinctions there might be between those who lost their lives and those who didn't. And he came to this startling conclusion. The six people who died were no worse and no better than anyone else in the village. I suspect someone who studied my neighborhood at Norwich Place just might come to that same conclusion. In Matthew's Gospel, Jesus famously challenges this notion that suffering and loss are somehow God's punishment on the wicked with one simple statement. He says, God makes the sun rise on the evil and on on the good, and he sends the rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. In today's passage, Jesus also challenges this notion that suffering and loss are somehow God's punishment on sin by citing the absurdity of such a notion in the light of two recent tragedies back in his time. He refers first to a time when Pilate mixed the blood of Galileans with their sacrifices. Now they're. There aren't other historic records of this incident. It's not mentioned elsewhere in the Gospel. So we aren't exactly sure what happened. But it's possible that this is what occurred. Some Galilean Jews had gone to the Jewish temple for worship, and they brought the animal offerings that the Jewish law invites people to do as a form of worship. And in the temple, Pilate has them slaughtered. And because this happened in the temple, their blood was then mixed, or rather in the same area as the blood of their animal offerings. That may have been what happened, but whatever occurred, it's an incident where a brutal political ruler slaughtered Galileans. Galileans, like the fishermen who were the followers of Jesus. Were those Galileans who died somehow suffering God's punishment on them for sin? Were they worse sinners than those who stayed home and didn't worship that day? His Galilean followers would have answered exactly as Jesus did. No, of course not. Those Galileans who died were suffering at the hands of the Roman Empire, Suffering at the hands of a brutal governor. Okay, but what about when suffering comes not from an oppressive ruler, but rather by accident or by an act of nature? Jesus in today's text cites yet a second tragic event, a time when a tower in the region of Jerusalem called Siloam fell and killed 18 people. This event may have simply been a tragic accident, or it may have been caused by an earthquake or high winds. We don't know. But there's no malicious human murderer behind the tragedy. Was it then an act of God? Was God punishing people for sin? No, Jesus says no, of course not. Such an argument is absurd. No matter how Popular it might have been in his time or in our time. But my question remains. I want to say, okay, Jesus, the reason why bad things happen to some and not to others is clearly not because those people for whom bad things occur were worse sinners than those who were spared. That's good to hear. That's a comfort. But I still wonder, why is that house standing and not that one? I'm not asking how. I'm asking why. And then Jesus makes that infuriating move he so often makes in the Gospels. You know, people give him a question, and what does he do? He throws a different question at them. He redirects the conversation. It's so frustrating. He turns from the question of why bad things happen to this question instead. What will you do right now with that precious, precarious life you have? You see the brutal reality of loss. Loss by the hand of ruthless rulers, loss by accident, loss by acts of nature. You saw it in that tragedy when Pilate mixed the blood of Galileans with their sacrifices. You saw it as the Tower of Siloam fell. So how will you then choose to live now? To what or to whom will you dedicate your lives? Jesus turns straight from my question of why to a call for repentance. Repentance. That's the English translation of the Greek word metanoia. And metanoia means to change one's mind or to change one's direction. And here's one way to picture metanoia. Some Mondays prior to January 7th, and this is a practice I hope to engage in soon, once again, I would often take a hike and hike up that trail to go to Echo Mountain and stop when I made my way all the way to the top at the ruins of that old hotel. I've run into others from Knox sometimes on that hike, like Rebecca Maker. It's great to run into people on that trail. Well, one particular time when I'd walk to the top with my dog Fitz, and we were turning around and getting set to head back, I made a left too soon. I got off the right trail and went on a particular trail that pretty quickly I saw was leading me straight to a ledge. As you can probably guess, I didn't go over that ledge, even though my dog Fitz might well have wanted me to. He was eager to see what was on the other side. I was not. I turned back around, realizing the error of my ways, and I got back on the trail. The right trail, the trail that would lead me home. That move, seeing there's this one trail, but no that's not the right one. It's heading to a ledge and getting back on the right trail, the trail that leads home. That's what metanoia is about. Repentance. Repentance that so often the cry of the prophets in scripture, and it represents a kind of turning from one path to another. Turn, the prophets cry from the path of worshipping false gods. Turn from chasing treasures on earth. Turn from the oppression of the vulnerable. Turn from chasing after worldly success. Turn to God and God's path forward. Turn to the law and commandments. Turn to defense of the widow, the immigrant and the orphan. Turn to justice. Turn to what's good and true and of God. Metanoia means to turn from a path leading you off a ledge to one that leads you home. In the wake of two disasters that had claimed the lives of many, Jesus calls people to recognize what is right before their eyes. Life is short. It really is sometimes tragically short. Death looms around every corner. We see this especially in times of tragedy. So Jesus says, don't waste one minute going down some path to nowhere. Turn now to what matters. Lean into a loving, nurturing, life giving relationship with the living God, the God who feeds even the sparrows of the air and clothes, even the lilies of the fields majestically and will surely care for your needs. Jesus proclaims, turn to love of neighbor. Be. Be that good Samaritan we read about in Luke's gospel that Jesus tells us about who didn't pass by the traveler, the. The migrant, if you will, who was lying hurt, beaten up, near dead by the side of the road. Turn or metanoia to that neighbor of yours in need. Turn to God. Turn to being vessels of God's love in Christ to your neighbor. You don't have one moment to lose. And then, as if to show Jesus followers what metanoia looks like so that he can't be accused of not practicing what he preaches, what does he do? Right after giving this sermon on repentance, he's teaching in one of the synagogues. And there he sees a woman who'd been crippled for 18 years. It's the Sabbath, a time when you weren't supposed to heal. But did Jesus want to wait until the opportune moment? No. He knew this is the time right now. And he reaches out and he heals, heals her. He makes her whole. Now he catches a whole lot of grief for that. The leader of the synagogue gets on him for it and for actions like that that would eventually lead to his death. But Jesus was bound and determined to dedicate his life to love of God and neighbor, inviting others to do that, no matter what the consequences, even if it takes him to the cross. Well, I don't know about you, but I still want Jesus to answer the question of why bad things happen. And Jesus just points me to love God and neighbor with everything I've got today. I want to find God in some explanation that will make sense of the wrong in the world. Jesus points me to the path of discipleship and the promise that he'll be with me in the journey. I want tragedy to have an answer. Jesus calls me to be an answer, God's answer to tragedy. I want to talk about why Jesus calls me now to the healing, feeding, serving evil, confronting sinner, forgiving gospel, proclaiming life affirming work of God, the very work I saw unleashed in the world in the ministry, death and resurrection of my Lord. I still want answers, but maybe what I need, truly need, is to know God is powerfully at work in the muck and tragedy and ash. And that is precisely what God has given me, what God has given us all in Christ. Want to see that work of Christ today firsthand, in our time, in the wake of the Eton and Palisade fires, Someone told me on a recent Sunday after worship where one might look for it, look to the helpers, this person said. Now, he was quoting, of course, who, Mr. Rogers, who was a Presbyterian pastor. Not sure if you knew that, but I want you to know that now. He became famous, of course, not for his sermons, but rather for the television show Mr. Rogers Neighborhood that he he hosted for decades. The first year of his show, Martin Luther King Jr. And Robert Kennedy were assassinated. And over the years to come, wars, fires, hurricanes and earthquakes all occurred. And Rogers knew that children were aware of these things. So he would often tell them this story. He would tell them about a time he was a boy and he would see scary things on the news and they would make him him afraid. And then his mother would say to him, always look for the helpers. And he did. And he came to see that the world was full of doctors, of nurses, police and firemen, volunteers, neighbors and friends ready to jump in and help when things go wrong. Well, I met just a few of those helpers this last Monday at the site of my former home. And in the name of Jesus, they helped me find a precious little bird. Thanks be to God. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, amen.