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Let Us Pray: We confess that we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves. We have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. Amen1

Do you think the Japanese were worse sinners because they lost the war? Do you think the Jews were worse sinners because six million lost their lives in the holocaust? Do you think Martin Luther King was assassinated because he was a worse sinner? Do you think ...?

So might read a modern version of the Gospel text that is in front of us today. It is not a comforting text. Rather, it challenges the arrogance of our complacent, self-righteous spirit and reminds us, along with the prophet Moses, "Do not come near; put off your shoes from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground." (Exodus 3:5)

The description of two public calamities (the kind TV would make much over today) shape the content of Jesus' direct and uncomfortable words. These disaster events which are only described in Luke's gospel brings to an end Jesus' conversations which began in chapter twelve. The tone of this ongoing dialogue is harsh. Jesus delivers a strong warning about the dangers of prosperity when in his judgment on the rich farmer, he says, "You fool, this very night your soul will be required of you." (12:20) Jesus calls his listeners hypocrites who can predict the weather, but are blind to what is going on in their lives and world. In our text this conversation is interrupted by the "news" that Pilate had his soldiers kill a group of Galileans while they were worshiping in the Temple. It well could be that with this interruption went hope that Jesus would get off the subject. His words were hitting too close to home.

Whatever their motive, there is little question they hoped to link the Galilean tragedy with the popular belief that bad people had bad things done to them. The Galileans died tragically because of the way they lived. Bad things happen to bad people. This tit-for-tat understanding of life remains a popular belief. You get what you deserve and you deserve what you get. This kind of thinking is especially popular for those of us who have been spared a lot of suffering. It frees us from becoming too concerned about what happens to other people and proves that we are pretty good people. Nothing that bad has ever happened to us!

But Jesus has no time for this kind of thinking. He squashes the idea that the good get the good and the bad, the bad. He does so by giving an example of his own. "When the Tower of Siloam collapsed and eighteen were killed, do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others who dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, No; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish." (vv. 4-5) This answer does not mean that wrong doing carries with it no unfortunate consequences. We know that sin causes a great deal of personal unhappiness and suffering. But Jesus denies any kind of automatic connection between suffering and sin. Whether we die violently or peacefully offers no proof as to the kind of person we were.

In our text, Jesus is not as interested in the relationship between suffering and sin as he is in personal reform and conduct. Here the issue is repentance. The message is clear: the repentant attitude is urgently required. This issue is no quibble about trifles. Jesus' theme song throughout the Gospels is "repent for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand." When Jesus sent forth the twelve, it was not enough to cast out demons and heal the sick. They also preached that people should repent! Someone has discovered that, next to the resurrection, repentance is the most frequent theme in the Book of Acts. We know that in every important situation, repentance was the essence of Peter's preaching. In the life of Paul we have a powerful example of the repentant attitude.

But as we all know, repentance is not the "in" word today. Some years ago, I heard a great preacher, J. S. Whale, charge that our age has reinterpreted the New Testament theme of repentance. We have changed, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand: to mean, "Relax for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" This "relaxed" attitude is reinforced by the discoveries of an interdisciplinary study of Christian beliefs and practices which were recently published in a book entitled Faith and Ferment. This study, based on the responses of more than 2,000 church members and pastors from all denominations in the state of Minnesota, is a close-up view of how faith affects life. The study revealed that 28% of the Christians interviewed believe humans are inherently good. This optimistic attitude is reflected in these words by one of those responding: "The day I die, I should only have to look up at my Maker and say, 'Take me,' Not, 'Forgive me.' I'm not saying that I am perfect ... but I have led a life that I don't have to be ashamed of."2

It is hard to understand that kind of complacent attitude toward human nature, given the world we are living in:

-two destructive World Wars in addition to the Korean and Viet Nam conflict;
-the Holocaust and an unbelieveable escalation in violence and weapons;
-poverty and world hunger on the increase;
-booming sales in home security systems;
-growing numbers of people so fearful that they will not go out at night.

In the face of all this (and much more), it is difficult to understand that many churchgoing people do not see this life as being out of step with God. But maybe it is not so surprising. In the First Letter of John, we read, "If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." (1:8) Sin has never been a popular subject - especially my sin. I would like to suggest that the heart or essence of my sin and your sin is that of self-deception. As the New Testament makes clear, "We do deceive ourselves ..." Perhaps the basic reason for being so vulnerable to deception is the great power of self interest. We tend to avoid questioning those areas of our lives that promote our own material well-being. Most of us love ourselves and our opinions more than we think. We play a lot of games in order to justify this great devotion to Me. We shape, explain, understand the circumstances of our life to serve our needs. We build convincing illusions that hide our deceptiveness. These illusions are so useful, and resorted to so much that we begin to accept them as reality. So we say, "Business is business and I am entitled to a fair profit;" "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth!"; "All is fair in love and war;" "That's politics;" "One has to survive;" "I'm a company person." So go our explanations and understandings. Self-deception becomes a way of coping with some of the tough ethical issues we face. But it is a false way of coping, it is an expedient way that prevents us from really seeing who we are and what we are really doing.

The "revolutionary" days in the early history of our country gives us a classic description of the great power of deception, "Enslavement" was the rallying cry of those leaders who wanted freedom from the "oppressive" English government. So Washington warned about the "shackles of slavery" and Adams called the English "our oppressors" and Jefferson spoke eloquently about the "plan for reducing us to slavery". Yet during all this, enslavement of the Blacks was legal in all thirteen colonies (Jefferson depended on slaves to run Monticello!). Such is the power of deception.

I am a teacher, called to a seminary to teach. In the formality and power of the "Call" I can ignore dozing and inattentive students and poor evaluations they may make of me. What do they know? I am the one who has the experience! My peers accept me. I am tenured! I must be a good teacher, otherwise I wouldn't be here! Such is the power of self-deception. In order to preserve my identity as a good teacher, I ignore all the signs to the contrary. The same process goes on, no matter who we are or what we do. Our practice of self deception is one of the reasons it is difficult to administer effective evaluation procedures. It is not only true with individuals. As noted above, deception is a highly-developed art in national diplomacy. This means that we are not only prone to be deceivers; we are also vulnerable to being deceived. This is one of the reasons politicians get elected and countries get into war.

In a useful book entitled Truthfulness and Tragedy, Stanley Hauerwas develops the uncomfortable thesis that "... the condition of self-deception becomes the rule, rather than the exception in our lives."3 He uses Hitler's architect, Albert Speer and the Jewish Holocaust, to illustrate the tragic results of self-deception. Albert Speer became Hitler's right-hand person. He was an intelligent person who became a good architect. He grew up in a prosperous and professional family. He had a good childhood. He received a good education, fell in love, got married and seems to have been a loving husband and an attentive father. Yet his autobiography is one long confession of self-deception.

Here are some of Speer's reflections, taken from his book, Inside the Third Reich. Concerning his childhood, these words:

To this day I can feel the artificiality and discomfort of that world.

As a young man with a bright future he said:

My position as Hitler's architect had soon become indispensable to me. Not yet thirty, I saw before me the most exciting prospects an architect can dream of ... The ordinary party member was being taught that grand policy was much too complex for him to judge it.

And this scary but understandable thought, which is repeated in so many different ways today:

I felt myself to be Hitler's architect. Political events did not concern me.4

This book by Speer is a useful one for optimistic Christians to read and ponder. For it seems that every generation, no matter what its prior history, is vulnerable to having the wool pulled over its eyes. The penetrating and courageous words of Reinhold Niebuhr are instructive at this point: "Faith is always imperiled on the one side by despair and on the other side by optimism. Of these two enemies of faith, optimism is the more dangerous. Few people live in permanent despair."5

"Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward being." (Psalm 51:6) The Psalmist recognizes the great importance of this kind of honesty with self, but history and our own experiences are eloquent testimony as to its difficulty. In his chapter on self-deception, Dr. Hauerwas reminds us, "To be is to be rooted in self-deception. The moral task therefore involves a constant and courageous vigilance; to note those areas where the tendency has taken root."6 John, in his epistle gives us similar advice in these memorable words: "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive our sins, cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1:9). This is the point of this uncomfortable gospel. In both the Galilean or Siloam incident, Jesus does not judge either the righteousness or innocence of those caught in these events. One would expect some harsh words for Pilate and maybe the Galilean "Zealots" who were taking the law into their own hands and had gone too far. But instead, Jesus takes these events and turns them into examples - powerful examples of why people need to look at their own life and to get things straight. The parable of the barren fig tree is a continuation as well as accentuation of the warning, "except you repent ... "Repentance is the reorientation of our life. It is recognizing the great power of the self-righteous spirit. It is accepting responsibility for deceptive actions. It is taking a good look at who we are and the direction we are going. It is "truth in the inward being." The season of Lent is a good time to nurture that truth.

Let us pray.
"For the sake of your Son, Jesus Christ, have mercy on us. Forgive us, receive us, and lead us, so that we may delight in your will and walk in your ways to the glory of your holy name. Amen7

1. Lutheran Book of Worship, "Brief Order For Confession and Forgiveness," (Minneapolis, Augsburg Publishing House, 1978), P. 56.
2. Joan D. Chittister, OSB & Martin E. Marty, Faith and Ferment, (Minneapolis and Collegeville, Augsburg Publishing House & The Liturgical Press, 1983), p. 88.
3. Stanley Hauerwas, Truthfulness and Tragedy, (Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press, 1977), pp 82-98.
4. Albert Speer, Inside the Third Reich, (New York, Avon Books, 1970), pp. 64 & 162.
5. Reinhold Niebuhr, Beyond Tragedy, (New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1937), p. 116.
6. Stanley Hauerwas, Truthfulness and Tragedy, (Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press, 1977), p. 95.
7. Lutheran Book of Worship, "Brief Order for Confession and Forgiveness," (Minneapolis, Augsburg Publishing House, 1978), p. 56.