The Parable of the Fig Tree and the Twin Towers

Lectionary reflections for the Third Sunday in Lent (C)
by Elizabeth Kaeton

Readings for Lent 3, Year C, March 14, 2004

• Exodus 3:1-3
• Psalm 63:1-8
• 1 Corinthians 10:1-13
• Luke 13:1-9

Just when I thought I had really started to recover from the aftereffects of “9/11,” the Gospel chosen from the Revised Common Lectionary proved me wrong. As is oft’times the way with grief, it strikes from out of nowhere. I confess that I got a chill as I read, “Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them – do you think they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?” (Luke 13:4).

What is even more deeply troubling about this passage is the connection in these words of Jesus between suffering and God’s judgment; that life’s calamities represent God’s judgment and are a call to repentance lest spiritual catastrophe overtake us. As ridiculous as they continue to sound today, the words of Jerry Fallwell, spoken in the days of heartbreak and sorrow that fell upon us after the fall of the Twin Towers, still ring in my ears.

Remember how Falwell had the audacity to tell us that the attack on the World Trade Center was part of God’s judgment upon us for – oh, what was in his laundry list? – homosexuality, abortion, feminism, etc.? . . .this scriptural passage makes it easy to see from whence cometh this faulty theology.Remember how Falwell had the audacity to tell us that the attack on the World Trade Center was part of God’s judgment upon us for – oh, what was in his laundry list? – homosexuality, abortion, feminism, etc.? You know: his usual litany. Like millions of others, I thought it sadly laughable then. But, this scriptural passage makes it easy to see from whence cometh this faulty theology.
Combine that with the image of the “last chance” for the fig tree and another image springs into my mind. I can see my beloved and devoutly Roman Catholic grandmother, on hearing the news of the damage from a hurricane, or the deaths attributed to a fire, or the destruction of a tornado, who would throw up her hands in prayer and say, “Oh, God, please forgive me."

Reminds me of that old saw, “Jews are born feeling guilty. Roman Catholics are carefully taught.” My own salvation was brought near when a counselor wisely said, “You know, Elizabeth, you’ll be much better once you’ve forgiven yourself for having started the Korean War.” It was the first time I had actually considered that it hadn’t been my fault. I grew up believing that everything else was – from children starving in Cambodia, to the misbehavior of my three younger siblings. It turns out, when faulty theology is combined with alcoholism a particularly deadly combination is produced, inducing guilt from generation to generation.

As is the case with much of scripture, it becomes much clearer when understood in context. The news arrived that some Galileans were slain in a Temple incident. It anticipated the slaughter of many worshippers in the Jewish War during the fighting between the rival factions in the Temple. As I researched this to put it in historical perspective, I discovered that another group had previously been killed at Siloam, possibly Zealots who had attacked Pilate’s aqueduct, which was constructed out of Temple funds. Jesus says that all Israel, not merely individual sinners, is liable to perish if it does not repent, i.e. change its attitude to his mission. One source said, “There may be an implicit condemnation of nationalist political ambitions.”

Ah, a slightly different spin on the story than Fallwell would have us believe, isn’t it? It’s all about context. It’s about understanding the fullness of Jesus’ words in the context in which – and to whom, and for what reason – he was speaking. Jesus is warning that if you only follow your nationalist political ambitions, you can anticipate your own destruction. If you repent, if you turn around and follow my mission, like the fig tree, you have a chance for new life. He’s saying that with God in the center, the movement you build will be strong. Without God, it will, eventually, collapse on itself.
Life is filled with calamities and catastrophes which test the strength of our faith that have nothing to do with God’s judgment. Neither do I believe that God sits around thinking up who to “test” with a particular fire or a heart attack or a car accident (see today’s passage from I Corinthians). Disasters happen that have nothing to do with “an act of God.”
I believe God was in the Twin Towers when they were hit. I believe God was there when they went down. And, I believe God wept inside each and every human heart that was broken by grief, and in every mind that was tormented by fear. Indeed, these tears of God make up the Balm in Gilead – and Gotham.

I believe the words of God spoken to Moses in today’s passage from Exodus, “I will be with you.” I believe God is in the midst of the catastrophes and calamities of life. I believe God was in the Twin Towers when they were hit. I believe God was there when they went down. And, I believe God wept inside each and every human heart that was broken by grief, and in every mind that was tormented by fear. Indeed, these tears of God make up the Balm in Gilead – and Gotham.

I AM WHO AM is a flame which blazes but does not consume, an ancient voice which guides and directs, a presence not indifferent to human suffering who “hears the cry” of the people. It’s important to remember these things and to hold them near to your heart. Because grief can, as grief often does, strike from out of nowhere. And, in those moments, God is with us.

It is promised.


The Rev. Elizabeth M. Kaeton is a regular contributor to The Witness online. She writes a monthly column called Another Word for Justice, and may be reached by email at emkaeton@aol.com.