3rd Sunday in Lent: Luke 13:1-9
Flannery O’Connor,
the esteemed Southern writer of the 1940s and 50s, wrote a short story titled Revelation
about a rather rude old lady named Mrs. Turpin. The story is set a doctor’s office where Mrs. Turpin finds
herself among a few others which gives her a chance to reflect upon her life. She enters, with no place to sit, and
from her point of view because a dirty nasty child is taking up too much room
on the sofa. Mrs. Turpin is not a
particularly pleasant woman, but she sure does love Jesus. Mrs. Turpin seems to spend a lot
of time looking at others in pity and disdain. She sings the song, “When I looked up and He looked down,
And wona these days I know I we-eara crown.”[1]
Often, at night
Mrs. Turpin would imagine herself before Jesus, being forced to be someone she
wouldn’t want to be. “Oh thank you
Jesus that I am not white-trash.”
Every imagination makes her only more self-righteous, more thankful she
is the person she is, not common, not even just a homeowner, but a
home-and-land owner. She thanks
Jesus that she is not ugly.
Mrs. Turpin
begins to engage in conversations with the people in the doctor’s office. Each person she engages with she sees
as where they rank in the different classes in society and finds ways of smugly
putting each person down. Finally
the conversation turns to a mother with her young child of 18 or 19 years old,
named Mary Grace, who is reading a book titled “Human Development.” The young girl has no interest in a
conversation with Mrs. Turpin and her mother points out how ungrateful the girl
is and of course Mrs. Turpin responds by letting everyone know just how
fortunate in life she has always been.
At that point she yells, “Thank you, Jesus, for making everything the
way it is!”
Mary Grace picks
up the book and hurls it across the room smacking Mrs. Turpin directly over her
right eye. As the room settles
down, Mrs. Turpin responds, “What you got to say to me?” and O’ Connor writes, “she asked
hoarsely and held and held her breath, waiting, as for a revelation. The girl raised her head. Her gaze locked with Mrs. Turpin’s. ‘Go
back to hell where you came from, you old wart hog.”
It takes a
little while, but the words sink in.
She cries, and then she becomes consumed with rage. But a woman as self-righteous as Mrs.
Turpin has no other option but to see the words as a divine revelation. She demands that God calls her a hog
again, and at that moment she has a vision, one that ends with her seeing
herself as the lowest of low, the last in a glorious procession behind all of
the people she has been so grateful to not be.
I sometimes feel
like Lent is similar to being smacked upside the head with Mary Grace’s book,
forcing us to face the realities of who we are at the core of our being,
ultimately as a catalyst for growth. O’Connor’s character is a dramatic
exaggeration of smaller truths that can be found in all human beings. I read a cartoon not to long ago that
forced me to reflect on how self-righteous I can be. It is an internet cartoon titled Coffee with Jesus.[2]
Kevin: “The car goes racing past me on the
highway, swerving from lane to lane- and get this! It had a bumper sticker for
the local Christian radio station!
Jesus:
“What a shame.”
Kevin:
“No joke! If you’re going to support that vapid station by displaying their
sticker you should maybe drive with some courtesy.
Jesus:
“Sorry Kevin. I meant it’s a shame
that you spend your day looking for people to judge so you can feel better
about yourself.
When we wander
into the desert and really examine who we are, it can be a little bit
scary. Every Lent that I have been
faithful in my own self-exploration, I have come to the realization that I have
even more work to do. I keep
waiting to hit the threshold where the work becomes less and less, the journey
easier, and easier. I haven’t
found it yet. My gut tells me I
may never find it.
Our passage from
Luke today assumes two questions.
You can almost hear the Galileans, asking Jesus, of those others who
have suffered and died. They sound
just like Mrs. Turpin. “Thanks be
to God nothing happened to us. Thanks
be to God we haven’t been such bad sinners as those others Galileans, or those
who stood under the tower of Siloam.
Self-righteous anger fills air.
They remind Jesus of the blood Pilate has mingled with their sacrifices
yet Jesus responds, “Do you really think they were worse than you?” Jesus smacks the Galileans upside the
head, “Repent! You fools! Nothing has happened to you, not out of
your own merit.
In the O’Connor
story, Mrs. Turpin experiences grace through the actions of Mary Grace. (Could she be a little more obvious
with the name?) It is through the realization of who she is that she can
experience the grace and freedom of being with God. It is interesting, what keeps Mrs. Turpin away from truly
seeing God is her own failure to recognize her own need for God’s grace. She is so fortunate that she is better
off than all others that she cannot even begin to fathom what life would be like
otherwise, and if we are so much better off than others, then how in the world
can we begin to understand how God’s grace can transform our own lives.
My friend Fanny
told me the other day “You can’t even begin to share God’s love if you don’t know
how to receive it.” Her simple,
yet profound insight has begun to shape my Lent this year. She in a much nicer way, picked a book
chalked full of grace and smacked me right upside the head.
I think the
ultimate flaw of the self-righteousness of the Galileans is in their belief
that their own merit has in someway contributed to their present circumstance. Can I truly understand God’s love if I think there is any
merit that has earned it? Does
self-righteousness inhibit me from recognizing God’s unabounding love?
This Lent, we have
moved into the desert. We get rid
of our comforts, we fast, we think, we explore, and we strip our lives down to
the bare essentials. If you are
finding this season to be extremely reflective and challenging then you are
right where you need to be. If
not, well you still have a good amount of time left before Easter. When we wander into the wilderness, we
can become aware of our own limitations and faults, seeing ourselves where we
truly lie in God’s eyes, as beloved children, just as every single person in all
of humanity is, not better off, not more blessed, not in a better position, but
in desperate need of reconciliation, and God’s love. If we look around and we truly believe that we need
God’s grace just as much as our brothers and sisters, and not in some selfish,
conceited way, (it has to be genuine) then we can move into a position and
place to share God’s grace with others.
Preached at St. George's Arlington
March 3, 2013
[1]
Flannery O’Connor, “Revelation” The
Complete Stories (New York:
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1971)
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