The Third Sunday in Lent Year C: The Rev. Jennifer B. Cleveland 3.23.25

One of the resources I am finding nourishing during this season is a weekly Lenten 4-minute vimeo called Staying Grounded in Times of Chaos (produced by our neighbors to the north, the Anglican Diocese of Islands and Inlets. Only two vimeos have been released, as this is just the third Sunday of Lent. The joint 8 minutes of content of the two vimeos has been nourishing, but it is actually the name of the Lenten reflections, Staying Grounded in Times of Chaos, that I keep going back to. It captures so much of this unsteady world. If you've ever had vertigo, you know that sense of everything tilting and how hard it is to maintain balance, much less stay grounded. 

If I were going to give a name to today's gospel from Luke, I might go with Staying Grounded in Times of Chaos. Because while we might not know much about the specific context of this conversation that is going on with Jesus about Galileans who have been unjustly killed by Pilate and others who have died in a collapsed tower, Jesus' response seems to be the first century equivalent of a short vimeo on staying grounded in times of chaos: a parable about what to do about a figless fig tree and how the gardener convinces the owner to wait, at least for one more year, so that the gardener can dig around it and pile on manure. Turning the soil to mix in natural nourishment for the tree, so that it can stay grounded, so to speak, and not get chopped down. 

Parables are complex, though, always beckoning us to enter not just a different world, but to go deeper in. Just when we think we understand what's going on inside the parable, it becomes clear that there might be more going on. There is more life going on under the surface of the soil than we can ever imagine, and we don't see it unless we turn it, like the gardener turning the manure. Repent, Jesus says, before launching into this parable of digging into and turning soil around the tree. Repent actually means to turn, sometimes in a certain direction (towards God and neighbor), but perhaps more accurately, it means to turn our mind, to change our mind. And while I typically don't think about my mind as being like soil in need of manure, we do refer to our minds as ground. During Lent, the parable seems to be asking, what habits of your mind might be in need of some turning over, might be in need of some fresh nourishment. This parable also reminds me of the Community Soil Collection Project, part of the ongoing work of the Equal Justice Initiative. Their work is to collect soil from lynching sites across the country, to "provide a tangible way for community members to confront the legacy" of lynchings, remember the people whose lives that were lost,  and to acknowledge the  impact of such violence on the communities where they happened. (See their website) Collecting the soil turns up what needs to be remembered, all that is mixed in with the soil, an essential part of repentance. 

The turning of our minds, of repentance, and the turning of the soil are not the only turnings this morning. Moses turned aside to get a closer look at that burning bush. He was curious (a sign of a fertile mind) and stepped aside to see what was up. The first thing God says to him is "remove your sandals, you are standing on holy ground." After God has explained the plan, Moses has some questions: "Who shall I say is sending me? What is your name?" And God gives a very typical God answer, "I AM who I AM." God with an attitude, you might say. Or God as a parable, impossible to explain or define. A fuller or more accurate translation of I AM who I AM , according to some Hebrew scholars is "I AM who I AM becoming," or, "I AM becoming who I AM." (If you want to take up a name search challenge, go through the bulletin and circle all of the names for God you find just this morning.) I AM becoming who I AM. That sounds a lot like the fig tree, who is becoming, all the time, more fully what it was created for. Wait one more year. At the end of one more year, I can already hear the gardener saying, "Let's dig around, add more manure and wait and watch." Lent and this journey we are on not is not about our becoming holy, but about our holy becoming in times of chaos.

What does it mean, then, for our minds to stay grounded in times of chaos? Or, more importantly, how can our minds stay grounded in loving abundance? Many studies show that mindfulness is a grounding practice. The past few weeks, I've mentioned several paradoxes. It is a paradox that staying grounded to become, more fully, who we are created to be, involves turning. Here is one way to stay grounded in chaotic times: wiggle your toes, then plant your feet on the ground. If it was a good idea for Moses to take off his shoes because he was on holy ground, then maybe it's a good idea for us to do it, too, every once in a while. If you wish, take your shoes off and (of course) keep them off, for as long as it makes sense to you. 

Feel the solid ground. Sit up and unfurl your hands, as if they were the leaves of a fig tree, opening as of to say, "Here I am." Feel free to close your eyes part way or all the way. As you remember the warm light of Christ and fresh air of the Spirit surrounding you, turn your mind towards a short prayer to breathe in and breathe out, with your feet planted. There are many from today's readings alone that are available. The first words of today's psalm: You are my God. My soul thirsts for you. // God of my ancestors. I turn to you. // I turn to you. Here I am. And, from John 10:10: I have come that you might have life and have it abundantly. Amen.