We begin with headlines.  Political and religious interests are reported today to have collided in violence when a group of religious devotees on pilgrimage are killed by militia forces.  The story could have been the one reported in this morning’s papers of clashes yesterday at the al-Aqsa mosque in Jerusalem or it could have been of the bombings in Ramadi and Najaf in Iraq or it could have been in Pakistan where Shia Moslems were targeted in the town of Hangu or then again there were the riots in Yeman and protests in Greece.  The general headline of a clash between religious and political forces is a story that sweeps across our modern world and yet the details of the story this morning are drawn from our Gospel lesson describing an incident involving the Roman Governor Pontius Pilate ruling ancient Jerusalem some 2,000 years ago in the first century.  Sadly the impact of the headlines whether from today or 2,000 years ago make about the same impression on us tragic tales of people and places removed from our lives.

And then we continue on to the next headline in our Gospel lesson a construction accident that killed 18 we find ourselves immediately cataloging it against the stories we hear every day,  like the construction fatality at the Willis Tower this past Wednesday.  Construction failures are a too common occurrence in our busy overbuilt world.  And when the disaster is not of human making we collect our tales of so called natural disasters.  An amazing series of earthquakes in Haiti, Chile and yesterday in Indonesia to say nothing of blizzards, floods and any number of storms, the list is almost endless.  All this without ever even considering the constant specters of famine and disease that touch every culture and country on the planet.

If ever there were a Lenten theme, somber, serious, depressing, our Gospel lesson for today is it.  Two weeks ago we began the Lenten journey looking at texts that called us to consider the nature of temptation in our world and our lives.

Today we are confronted by perhaps the most challenging question that faith must ever embrace—the headlines.  The headlines are the hard realities of life, the dark truths of our world that haunt our most happy moments, the what ifs, the possibility that no matter how good or blessed our lives may feel we are always but a moment away from circumstances that could change all that.  That would try our faith to the limit and no matter how bad the situation may seem to us at this moment there is always the possibility that it can get even worse.

Midway through Lent we are invited to plum the depths of our understanding of God and the message of the Gospel.  Jesus takes the headlines of his day, the death of religious pilgrims, faithful Galileans from the country around where Jesus grew up.  He asks the question that we all wonder about at some time or another.  Why did this happen?  Why does a perfectly normal day at school suddenly result in the shooting death of teen age students who were doing nothing more then following their class schedules?  Why does one plane crash killing all on board while hundreds of others take off and land each hour without incident?  How could it possibly happen that an earthquake would strike the poorest and least disaster prepared country in our hemisphere?

Fate?  We want to believe it is something more.  We look for explanations.  Somewhere to lay the blame.  There are investigations, analysis, rationalizations, litigation.  Yet when it is all said and done what we really want is for God to explain it all.  We want some cosmic explanation that gives ultimate meaning to our suffering.  For our faith to produce just the right words to take away the pain, wipe away the tears, remove the fear that we might be next. 

But Jesus doesn’t do that in our lesson for today.  In fact, what Jesus does is exactly the opposite.  He says, Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?  No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.  Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?  No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

These are not words of comfort.  They are harsh judgment—“unless you repent, you will perish just as they did.”  Why would Jesus threaten that?  What have we ever done to deserve such judgment? 

The answer comes in the form of a parable, a story told that invites us to consider the place of faith and hope in our world.  It is a simple story of a man who plants a fig tree in a vineyard but when the man comes looking for fruit to harvest he finds none.  The man tells the gardener that he has waited three years for fruit from the tree and found none.  “Cut it down,” he orders.  But the gardener petitions the man to give the tree one more year.  Let him fertilize and water the tree, he says,  and then see what happens.  If nothing comes of it, then cut it down.

It may be hard to remember what the church grounds looked like last summer, especially after all the snows of this winter.  They were green and groomed with flowers and various plants all around.  What you may not know is that these plants do not just naturally grow around the church and columbarium.  In fact, much of the soil around the columbarium was at one time just stone from the parking lot.  But thanks to several volunteers over the years, that ground has been chopped and dug with stones being removed and fresh soil and fertilizer turned into the mix allowing many plants that would have stood no chance to find life and bring beauty to our setting. 

As we look out the windows this morning at the melting snows we are given a new perspective on our parable for today—and our lives.  In the face of all that appears hopeless—death, disease, crisis and catastrophe—we are invited to have hope, have faith.  The simple truth is that there are at least two ways to look at most situations —the human view and God’s view—the faithless and the faithful.

We all just survived the Winter Olympics.  I suspect that most of us heard at least one story over the last few weeks about the challenges and the triumphs of various athletes.  And now we are heading into the March madness of the NCAA basketball playoffs where we will encounter story after story of upsets and reversals of fortune.  One coach will be quoted as saying it was a great win while the next coach, who also won, will be anxiously describing how they almost lost.  Every story will have at least two sides to it there will be the despair of a season ending and the hope against hope that the little underrated school will survive the game against the highly rated university.

We began the season of Lent on Ash Wednesday with the reminder that we are but dust, a reminder that we are mere mortals, that life is short.  A truth that becomes clearer with each passing year.  We are all but one breath away from eternity that is what Jesus was trying to convey through his call to repentance.  Faith is not something for the future.  Its meaning and value is here and now.  The word of God is offered in this moment, in this place.  It is not future promise but present tense. 

When the sacrament is offered it is real.  The body of Christ is not just symbolized in the bread or promised for some future time.  Christ said this is my body…this is my blood.  The forgiveness of sins, the gift of life everlasting, the meaning that you will find in your life is real now.  The love that you share is real now.

Is God looking for fruit from our lives?  Of course—and so are we.  Each of us wants our lives to be as rich and full as God does.  And the good news is that Jesus has faith in us.  Jesus has provided for our nourishment in his Word and sacraments, surrounded by the church.  We have rich soils of tradition and community from which to draw.

There is not just bad news but also good news in the headlines.  Sometimes you just have to look a little harder.  Sometimes you have to even read between the lines.  Our lives are filled with trials and temptations.  2,000 years ago the Apostle Paul lived the same kind of life, regularly persecuted for his words, thrown into prison time and again.  But he remained faithful and in our second lesson for today he provides a valuable insight to help us deal with the headlines.  Faced with a world like ours that at times seems to be going to pieces, caught in lives that are filled with reversals to finances, health and family.  St. Paul writes to the church at Corinth, God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it. (I Cor. 10:13)  God is faithful and from the day of our baptism that has been the promise.  God is faithful.  God is with us.  God around us.  God beside us every day.  So we read the headlines, hear the news stories, and still ask why.  But we ask not in fear or despair but in thanks for the grace that takes even the most confusing moments and points by faith toward God, toward the light that leads us out of the darkness of temptation, into the promise of new life, renewed purpose, eternal life embraced by God’s love for all people.

God is faithful even when we are not.  Give it another year and watch for the fruit.  We live in faith.

Amen