The Third Sunday of Lent, C March 24, 2019
Fr. Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
Why do bad things happen to good people? It’s a question we all ask. And the Jews of Jesus’ day thought they had the answer. If something bad happens to a good person, they reasoned, that person must have sinned in some secret way. They must not be as good as they seemed. So, when Pilate murdered a bunch of Galileans in the Temple, or when the tower at Siloam fell on a bunch of people, the Jews just figured they had it coming and God was taking care of business.
That’s not true. Jesus says these victims were no more sinful than anyone else. Yet, he kind of contradicts himself. Immediately after implying that sin didn’t kill these people, he solemnly warns the crowd, “if you do not repent, you will all perish as they did!” There’s even an exclamation mark there. So wait, these guys didn’t die because they were sinners, but if we don’t stop sinning, we will “perish” for our sins? How does that explain why bad things happen to good people?
It doesn’t. At least, not directly. Instead, it answers the question we should be asking. The question that lies behind our first question. “Why don’t bad things happen to bad people?” That question is more important because it actually applies to us. You see, when we ask, “why do bad things happen to good people,” we’re usually thinking about ourselves… we’re usually worried that something bad might happen to us… which means we kind of assume we are the good person we’re asking about.
But here’s the unpopular fact. We are not that good person. No one is. Go back to God’s name, revealed to Moses in the first reading. “I AM WHO AM.” In other words, God exists. He is existence. Everything else depends on him… owes its existence to God. So, to reject God, to offend him with even a small sin is basically rejecting your own existence. It is to fall into a debt that cannot be repaid. This is why, with only two exceptions, everyone since Adam & Eve is born a child of wrath, a hopeless sinner, a fallen creature incapable of being good. Notice that Jesus doesn’t just ask if the poor victims were guilty, but if they were more guilty. He does that because we are all guilty. It is the doctrine of Original Sin: All men are broken, messed up, guilty.
So, the question we should ask is not “why do bad things happen to good people,” but “why don’t bad things happen to bad people… why don’t bad things happen to me?” And that is a question that Jesus answers. God is merciful; That’s why. God is the farmer, we are the fruitless fig tree. He has every right to chop us down, to toss us into the fire and be done with it. He has the right, but not the desire. He doesn’t want to. He wants us to bear fruit.
He sends his Son to cultivate the ground by his death and burial in that ground. To fertilize the human race by rising from the dead and giving us the Holy Spirit. With the help of God’s grace we can become the good person. We can bear fruit in holiness and justice and, above all, Love. We have the choice, but time is limited. God is patient, he waits, he cultivates, he tries again and again to help us make the right choice; He will not make it for us. And he will treat us like the dead wood we are if we insist on staying that way.
“Why do bad things happen to good people?” The problem with the question is that puts the burden of proof on God. This is the trap of secular culture: They assume everything is good and God owes us whatever we think is good. The reality is that everything is broken and God owes us nothing, but offers us everything. When something terrible happens to another person, do not assume it is because they are sinner. When something terrible happens, do not assume God is cruel and wicked. When something terrible happens, there is a mystery, but there is also the truth that all have sinned and deserve punishment.
Jesus never once says “don’t worry about changing, you’re all basically good as you are.” He always calls us to repentance. He always warns against presumption. Paul echoes this warning in our second reading “whoever thinks he is standing secure should take care not to fall.” The next time you hear of some tragedy involving seemingly good people, innocent people, don’t ask “why did that bad thing happen to them.” Instead, ask yourself, “why don’t these bad things happen to me? Why should I be healthy? Why should I be comfortable? Why should I escape destitution and disaster? I am a sinner who deserves eternal punishment for rejecting the very God who keeps me in existence.”
Does this make you afraid? Does it make you think I am negative and judgmental? I mean, why spend all this time telling us how bad we are, how much punishment we deserve? Because it is the only way that the Good News of the Gospel makes any sense. In the end, there is only one unforgiveable sin. Unfortunately, it is now one of the most common sins in our culture. The only sin God cannot forgive is the sin of refusing to ask for forgiveness. To assume you’re just fine as you are, that your life is good because you deserve it or that God will send you to heaven just because you think you should be there… this is unforgiveable because it means you do not ask for forgiveness.
God is good. He is merciful. He is love. But if someone refuses to admit they need mercy, refuses to recognize that love is supposed to change us, then there is nothing he can do. The love of God is amazing. It is a profound mystery that he can take such wicked, broken creatures and turn us into beloved, eternal reflections of his radiant glory. But this only happens if we ask for it.
So, embrace the terrifying idea that you are a sinner who deserves punishment. Don’t embrace it not because you hate yourself or because God is mean and cruel. Embrace it because it is the only way to embrace the depth of his mercy, to be embraced by it. Repent, or you will perish. The answer to the question “why do bad things happen to good people” is actually another question. “Why don’t bad things happen to bad people? Why do I get more than I deserve?” Because God loves you. Jesus would have died even if he could save only one person, you. With such a savior, what’s wrong with admitting you need to be saved in the first place?