I don’t know about you, but I have been feeling overwhelmed. This week, like too many weeks, it is the gun violence in our country, especially now that it hit Mennonite communities in the great state of Kansas. Then there is the state of national politics, the hateful rhetoric and lies that only seem to get more bombastic and unbelievable as the weeks go on. What used to pass for satire is now taken as serious political speech. It is enough to make even the most hopeful person despair.

During times like this I find it helpful, actually essential, to remember that I am, that we are, followers of Jesus. We walk together and we do not see the world through a lens of fear and hate. We do not frame our experiences by what the politicians or would-be politicians say. We frame our understanding of the world, our values, how we treat others and how live our lives – in the way of Jesus.

This past week I got caught in the looming darkness. And I was stuck there until I realized that I had succumb to the fear. Our theme text from John 1 became a lifeline: “In the Word is life and that life is humanity’s light, a light that shines in the darkness, a light that the darkness has never overtaken.”

When so many of the words that we hear seem irrational, based in fear and pushing toward hate, it is a relief to turn to the bible. Here is a Word that is not static but living. We have a word that lifts up those who would be trampled or ignored or turned away.

We hear it in the text from Isaiah: water for the thirsty, food for the hungry, most especially for those who have no money. The word tells us that God works in ways that are not comprehensible in this world. As irrational as it sounds, it is a strand of hope for those who struggle. And a word of caution – for those who would sell dirty, poisonous water and food that does not nourish.

The lectionary this week also gives us Jesus, the Living Word, who is not quite as easy to understand.

Commentators ponder this text from Luke since the episode about Pilate is doubtful and there is no record of a falling tower in Siloam except here. These two incidents do give Jesus an opportunity to teach that horrific and inexplicable events (like Siloam, Newton, Hesston, Kalamazoo, Flint…) do not happen because God is vengeful or because these people are more sinful than others. Yes, Jesus says, the reality is that the people died. And so will we all. Turn. Be ready.

Then comes this fig tree parable: a fig tree that is strangely planted in a vineyard. This fig tree (that is often a symbol for Jesus’ religious community) is not bearing fruit. It often takes a few years after fig trees are planted until they bear figs. This one had three years and it still isn’t producing so the owner is ready to chop it down. Get the ax. The vinedresser asks for one more year to fertilize and tend the tree, to dig around it with the shovel. Perhaps then it will produce. “And if it still doesn’t bear fruit, then you can cut it down.”

It is not readily apparent to me how this short fig tree parable relates to the previous verses where people are not guilty and yet they die. Nor is it readily apparent to me how the fig tree relates to the subsequent story: Jesus sees a woman who is bent over for 18 years. He heals her, on the Sabbath, in the synagogue.

Yet and still, let’s look at the fig tree.

We have a fig tree at our house. It is in our backyard, under a maple tree. Even though both figs and maples have root systems that spread invasively, in our yard they seem compatible, right along with the invasive English ivy. Our fig tree can’t rightly be called a tree – as it has dozens of shoots coming out of the ground. Perhaps it is better called a fig bush, or a spread of fig twigs. In any case, the fig does produce fruit, even in the shade of the maple.

Two winters ago, when it was so very cold, we wondered if the fig would survive. In the spring we could tell that it had died. We cut down the branches, almost all the branches.

By early summer we noticed that indeed, the fig had died. But there were a few new sprouts coming up from the extensive root system. By late summer we had figs, actually more figs than we usually get. The fresh, weak branches couldn’t support the hungry squirrels; more figs for the humans.

This year the fig looks again as if it didn’t make it. But now I have learned that cutting it down doesn’t mean I have given up. It means that I am clearing out what isn’t needed and allowing room for what can grow up from the unseen roots.

It is easy to read this parable and imagine that the owner is cruel and impatient in the desire to cut down the tree. In an allegorical leap, we might imagine that the owner is God, the same God that lets people die in falling towers. But I wonder, does the owner know more about fig trees than the vinedresser? The owner tells the vinedresser to cut it down. The owner does not insist that the figless tree be pulled up by the roots. It looks like harsh action – to cut the tree down but it is actually another way toward growth, toward bearing fruit.

Maybe this vinedresser knows a lot about grape vines but not all that much about fig trees. The vinedresser wants to try known method, fertilizer and digging around the roots. Just one more year, please.

And there the parable ends. We don’t know if the tree was cut down or if the owner allows the vinedresser another year. If the extra year is granted, perhaps it is not so much for the fig tree as for the vinedresser to learn more about figs?

You have probably seen the window planter full of soil on the table in the foyer. The church council and pastorate planted seeds last September when we met to plan for the coming year. We decided that instead of grand goals, we need a year of listening for what our next steps as a congregation might be. We planted seeds as a symbol of watching and waiting for may grow. Of the nineteen seeds planted, two sprouted, grew and then died.

In a year when we are listening, waiting, wondering, what might we learn from the vineyard owner? from the vinedresser?

We could have decided to plant more seeds, right away, or maybe dig around and try to fertilize the unsprouted seeds. Instead we decided to let the soil alone, to sit and wait. Like we are doing as a congregation. We have not closed up the church, just decided that we aren’t taking on any big new things. And like the fig tree, the roots of this congregation are very much alive.

Earlier this month, a few folks from the congregation hosted a meal for three Afghan refugee families who recently settled in this area. Kristi and Christina are now spending time with these families, helping them to find their way to local mosques and halal foodstores, to understand the complexities of life here in Prince George’s County, in the United States. Cathy is organizing another meal for more families on March 11.

New growth is springing up from deep roots of hospitality.

For ten years the gifts of our congregation lay dormant in Allegheny Conference. Now that we are full members again we are being asked to participate, to share our talents in the life and work of the conference. At the delegate session this coming Saturday, there are three members from Hyattsville on the conference ballot: Keith for the nominating committee, Mark for conference treasurer and LeAnne for moderator-elect.

There is new growth from deep pain, long commitment and historic roots.

This year Hyattsville Mennonite celebrates thirty years of welcoming LGBT people as members. For a generation we have lived into inclusion and integration – yet we still have areas where we can grow. We have not, to my knowledge, lived fully into welcoming transgender people. How might we extend our welcome to trans folks? How can we learn, become more understanding and welcoming in our language, our facilities, our biblical interpretation?

There are opportunities for new growth by fertilizing and nourishing the roots of radical hospitality.

In a year when we are listening, waiting, wondering, nourishing roots, what might we learn from the vineyard owner? from the vinedresser?

Jesus says there is no judgement against people who die in tragic accidents: they are not more sinful than anyone else. Similarly, there doesn’t seem to be judgement about which method is better to produce fruit: the quick cut with an ax creating room for new growth or the year long system of trying once more with a shovel and fertilizer. Both can produce fruit. It depends what the situation calls for.

As followers of the Word made flesh, we are alert to the possibilities of bringing forth fruit – with the shovel and the ax. Some situations may allow for slow, deliberate work, digging and tending the tree. In other cases, we may need the ax, to clear what is dead and start anew more quickly.

In this year of listening for our next steps as a congregation, may we continue to  watch for places where Hospitality and Beauty, Peace and Justice are blossoming, where fruit may soon grow.

And may we be given wisdom to know the difference between an ax and a shovel and when to use them.