Sermon preached at St. Alban's, Spirit Lake, on March 11, 2007
(Year C, Third Sunday in Lent, BCP Lectionary)
by the Rev. Carl D. Mann

Texts:   Exodus 3:1-15
Psalm 103 or 103:1-11
1 Corinthians 10:1-13
Luke 13:1-9

Several years ago in my former life, I drove an hour each way to and from work. These two hours were my alone time during which I would get a lot of thinking accomplished. One day on the way home from work as I turned onto the entrance to the Interstate, I was jolted by the presence of a man standing by the side of the ramp. I made a quick assessment as I passed on by.

He was one of the most disreputable people I have ever seen. His clothes consisted of a ratty flannel shirt that was half unbuttoned and partially tucked into a pair of blue jeans that were filthy, faded, and torn. The jeans hung loose around his waist for he wore no belt and I wondered how they were held up since I could see his ankles and sock-less feet jutting up from worn out leather shoes with out any laces below the frayed cuffs. Between his feet was a black plastic trash bag that was open and flapping in the wind, its contents just enough to keep it from being blown away. But it was his face that startled me the most. His long hair was filthy and unkempt with a beard to match. The skin of his face was smudged and streaked with dirt and his dark eyes stared straight ahead, hollow and empty. Both of his thin arms hung motionless at his side, not even a thumb sticking out asking for a ride.

I looked in the rear view mirror and he never once turned his head or gave me any indication that he had seen me. As I gained speed, I thought, “Poor guy, he’ll never get a ride looking like that.”

The next morning as I exited the Interstate, and crossed over the bridge in the dearly dawn, I noticed a shadow to my left, and there was the man, still standing to the side of the southbound entrance ramp, motionless except for the top of the trash bag slightly billowing in the breeze. As I passed by, I wondered if he had stood there all night.

That evening, I hopped into my pickup truck mentally preparing for the commuter traffic of the Interstate as I drove home. When I turned onto the ramp, again I was faced with this specter of a man standing by the side of the ramp looking more disheveled than the previous day if that was possible. I pondered the idea of standing in one place for over twenty-four hours and began to wonder about this guy’s story. But twenty miles later he was out of my mind.

The next morning as I left the Interstate, I began looking to the west to see if he was still there, and somehow wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him diligently standing at his post like a sentry looking neither left nor right. His haunting image stayed with me further into the morning and into the afternoon, and when it came time to go home I wondered if he would still be there, knowing perfectly well that he would be. As I passed him by for the third afternoon, my soul felt deeply troubled wondering why no one else had stopped to help this man. I could not get his image out of my head the whole way home. Any moment my brain was idle, he appeared in my mind’s eye. When I went to bed that night, all I could see was his vacant gaze looking through me when I closed my eyes, and I asked aloud, “What do you want me to do?” And I heard a silent voice reply, “You know what to do.” By now I am beginning to wonder if I am losing my mind. I’m seeing phantoms by the side of road and now I’m hearing voices in my head. I was so agitated that I got up and found an old gym bag. I dug out a pair of old jeans a T-shirt, a thick flannel shirt, a pair of warm socks, and an old windbreaker and neatly folded them into the bag. I then collected a belt and a pair of new shoelaces, a new bar of soap and a washcloth and hand towel, a new toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, and a comb and put them into an old toiletry kit stuffing it into the bag. I then went into the kitchen and found some granola bars, and raisins, several juicy crisp apples, and a bottle of water, and squeezed them into the bag. When the zipper was pulled shut I finally dropped into bed and immediately fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up early and was strangely excited as I drove to work wondering exactly how I would present this stranger with my care package. What should I say? How should I act? Was he dangerous? All this raced through my mind as I raced to work. When I got off the Interstate I was looking for him in the fading darkness in his designated spot, and he wasn’t there. I couldn’t believe it. He was gone! But of course he was probably sleeping somewhere nearby and I was there early so I went to work planning on giving him his package and maybe even a ride that afternoon on my way home.

When I turned onto the entrance ramp I pulled my truck over to the side and was surprised to find that my newfound friend was gone. He had left his post. I was devastated. He had become a permanent fixture on the horizon of my personal landscape and someone had stolen him away. I felt terrible, empty, angered at being robbed of my moment of generosity. And then I noticed that in the place where he had been defiantly standing for three days were his worn down shoes with no laces, the leather tongues sticking up between the two rows of empty eyes as if he had been involuntarily jerked out of them. And between the two empty shoes was a black plastic trash bag open and flapping in the wind, it contents just enough to keep it from blowing away. I pulled out onto the road and drove away convicted, knowing that I had missed an opportunity by hesitating too long.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is again warning the Jewish people that their last opportunity has come before them. He is not describing to them what happens in the afterlife. He is telling them that if they do not listen to him and change their direction, abandoning any attempt at a national rebellion against Rome, then they will suffer the consequences. All who take up the sword will perish by the sword. This is their last chance to repent, and to live into the covenant. Jesus is the last call to enter into God’s kingdom. He is warning them to stop chasing after earthly things and earthly solutions. Put your faith and trust in God as He has commanded us to do for true salvation comes only from Him, through Him, and by Him. Thou shalt love the Lord your God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets both of which I have come to fulfill. This is the Good News! Now which part of the covenant don’t you understand?

The parable of the fig tree illustrates for the Jewish people that Jesus, as a prophet is warning them of their last opportunity to fulfill their end of the covenant. Jesus as the gardener gives them one more chance to produce good fruit. And some would say that they failed again. But I would say that they didn’t fail. Because of the husbandry that Jesus provided through his life, death, resurrection and ascension, a small group of Jewish people received the Holy Spirit, which empowered the early Church to blossom and to bear fruit. Just as Jesus was the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep, we, the Church have the first fruits of the Spirit. And that is what the parable of the fig tree illustrates for us as Christians. In Christ we cannot remain idle. We must bear fruit. We will be judged not only by the fruit that we produce but whether or not we produce any fruit at all.

As one commentator has said, [in the Bible], “repeatedly, directly, and by implication, Jesus reminded people that they would be judged according to the opportunities they had.” That is a powerful claim. Not only will we be judged by the things that we do in our lives but also by how we respond to the opportunities that are placed before us. To miss or ignore the opportunity to do something good is as sinful in the eyes of God as doing any immoral deed. But the Good News is that Jesus came and died for our sins, both our sins of commission and omission. As Christians, we recognize that he is our last opportunity, and acknowledge that only through him are we forgiven. We reiterate this belief in one form of our General Confession when we admit that we have sinned against God and our neighbor in thought, word, and deed by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. And we pray that for the sake of His son, that is, through Jesus Christ, that He will have mercy on us and forgive us. And by virtue of His gracious mercy we will delight in His will and will be able to walk in His ways. That means that with His help we will act in response to the opportunities that He places before us.

Feed the hungry, give the thirsty a drink, welcome the stranger among us, clothe the naked, and visit the infirmed and imprisoned. Jesus tells us, “Truly I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me. You see, this is what worries me the most about my man by the side of the road. By not responding instinctively, I missed an opportunity to serve my Lord by serving this man in need. Did he exist? Did anyone else see him? Why was he allowed to stand on the roadside for three days? Why didn’t anyone else help him? The answers to these questions don’t matter because I did see him and I failed to respond in time.

One spiritual person with whom I shared this story said that if this truly was a vision then the reason he disappeared was because I had responded by packing the bag, and that God knew my intent, and therefore I had passed the test. But I don’t think so. Jesus didn’t tell us that we should intend to feed the hungry but rather that we should intentionally feed the hungry. Only when we see through with our intentions is the hunger satisfied.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, during this season of Lent as we pray, fast, and reflect upon our lives, let us ask God to give us a Spirit of discernment and love so that we may better seek out, quickly comprehend, and appropriately respond to the opportunities that God places before us. To do so is to do God’s will. Gloria Patri