Homily: 3rd Sunday of Lent (Year C)

Readings:  Ex 3:1-8a, 13-15; Ps 103; 1 Cor 10:1-6, 10-12; Lk 13:1-9
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A priest friend, the retired pastor of a parish in midtown Manhattan, once told me that sometimes, after he'd heard confessions for several hours at a time, he didn't just get tired, he got bored.

"There's Nothing more boring," he said, "than hearing the same sins again and again, hour after hour." But then he added, "Fortunately, repentance doesn't bore God. He enjoys forgiving."

Long Confession Line

Hearing that I couldn't help but recall those words at the end of the book of Micah, the prophet:

"Who is a God like you, Who removes guilt and pardons sin...Who does not persist in anger forever, but instead delights in mercy"  [Mic 7:18].

God certainly delights in mercy and forgiveness. And that's a good thing, isn't it?

Jesus stressed this when He told the scribes and Pharisees: 

"I have not come to call the righteous to repentance but sinners" [Lk 5:32].

Well, if He came for sinners He must love to forgive. Indeed, God knows us far better than we know ourselves. He knows we all have our particular sins. He understands our weaknesses. Because we're naturally disappointed in ourselves, we're tempted to think: Hey, that little sin's really not so bad. It's a part of me; it's just the way I am.

I've even heard some people make the excuse that God made them this way. How can He expect anything better? Blaming our sinfulness on God! That's even worse than joining Eve [Gn 3:13] and Flip Wilson by saying, "The devil made me do it." 

(If you're under 55 you probably don't know who Flip Wilson was. Just Google him...)

But these rationalizations only weaken our sense of guilt and our fervor for repentance and change. They lead us to make false compromises with our weaknesses, and cause us to choose mediocrity over striving for the perfection God desires for us.

We can grow through our faults, but only if we don't settle for them, but instead learn to live always on God's forgiveness. Listen again to the psalm Dawn just sang:

"He pardons all your sins, heals all your ills. He redeems your life from destruction, crowns you with kindness and compassion" [Ps 103:3-4].

Yes, those are the fruits of repentance: forgiveness, kindness, and compassion. Forgiving, then, is no big thing for God. He delights in it, because forgiveness is the completion of love. Have you ever considered that?

In forgiveness, love reaches its greatest purity, its greatest depth.

In forgiveness, love is at its strongest.

In forgiveness, love, especially God's love, generates new life.

God delights in each of us. He rejoices over us and shows His love without inhibition. But so many see God as a kind of Almighty Umpire, focusing on punishment rather then forgiveness. Maybe that's why we cringe when Jesus relates the parable of the barren fig tree, especially when we hear those words "...cut it down"  [Lk 13:7].

Hard words...and so we try to convince ourselves that a loving God wouldn't deal with us so severely. It's about this time that guilt creeps in, especially in this season of Lent, this time of repentance. But guilt is just a warning and should never lead us to despair.

Yes, God will judge us, but He's also a forgiving God, a truth Jesus' disciples had yet to learn. Although they'd never played baseball, they too saw God as the Almighty Umpire. When an evil struck someone, they just assumed God had punished that person. This simply reflected what they'd been taught: If one lives a good life, good things happen, but if one leads a bad life, well, God will get him. It's amazing how many people, even many Christians, still think this way.

A few days ago, a parishioner asked me how God could reward a certain wealthy celebrity with so much money when he lived such an immoral life. I just suggested that God's attitude toward money and possessions is evident by the fact that it's spread around pretty randomly among both the faithful and the faithless. We'd be a lot better off if we focused on our own attitudes toward material things, and prayed for those blessed with wealth, that they use it well, for God's glory.

By adjusting our image of God to His reality, we can better understand how He wants us to live. This is exactly what Jesus does in our Gospel passage. He has to set the disciples straight. In the parable of the fig tree, Jesus readjusts the disciples' image of God and, if we listen carefully, He can help us do the same. 

"Leave it another year..."

The parable really doesn't focus on the vineyard owner's order to cut down the fig tree. No, Jesus highlights the three years of patience that preceded this decision. And the real emphasis is on the plea of the vinedresser: "Sir, leave it another year" [Lk 13:8]...one more year of hoeing and fertilizing, one more year of gentle care, one more chance...patience extended beyond reason.

This, then, is the key to the parable: that Jesus, Our Lord, is the patient gardener, the patient vinedresser. He's the worker who trusts our souls will blossom over time. He's the patient God who trusts in us even when we lose confidence in ourselves.

Yes, God is patient. What appears to the world as dried up and useless, He views differently. To Him we're always on the brink of producing fruit or brilliant blossoms.

But you and I...Well, if we're honest, we're probably more like the hardnosed vineyard owner. It doesn't take much for us to write off others when they don't seem to measure up to our self-defined Christian expectations. The truth is, we still harbor that childish notion of God wielding His figurative ax. But that's not the Father Jesus describes.

We're called to thank God for His patience, to thank God for a life measured by all those Lents where we ended up no better than when we started. God doesn't dwell on the past. He looks only at this Lent, calling us to a deeper relationship with Him. Jesus speaks to us as the vineyard dresser speaks to the vineyard owner.

God is patient with us because He has a plan for each of us; and he hopes we will accept His gift of grace so we can fulfill that plan. The question is: can we be patient with ourselves?

When we feel dry and lifeless...

When our lives seems to be spinning out of control...

When our relationships are marked by bitterness and strife...

When the death of a loved one drives home the fragility of life...

When our children seem to be slipping away from us and from God...

When all these things generate unanswered questions in our lives, that's when we need to trust in our God, our God who is patient and forgiving. Brothers and sisters, God wants nothing but good for us. What did He say to Moses on Mount Horeb?

"I have witnessed the affliction of my people...and have heard their cry...so I know well what they are suffering" [Ex 3:7].

"I have heard their cry..."

And yet, despite God's gift of freedom, the Israelites turned against Him again and again. But God, Who knew well their suffering, continued to extend His patience and forgiveness.

Jesus, too, knows how we suffer because He, too, suffered, and through that suffering, freed us from the slavery to sin. And so, when St. Paul tells us to be "Be imitators of God" [Eph 5:1], perhaps this Lent we should begin by imitating God's patience, by being patient with each other.

Can we treat each other with the same tenderness we see in Jesus...even when the wait takes every shred of patience, even when we're ready to shout, "Cut it down!"

To celebrate Lent well is to challenge ourselves by asking, "What's my image of God? Is He a cosmic umpire, or a patient loving Father? Whom shall I imitate?"

Our answer makes a huge difference.