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#  Third Sunday in Lent 

 





March 28, 2025

 

 

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*By The Rev. Carrie Ballenger*  
*Pastor of the University Lutheran Church,*  
*A Harvard University Chaplain*

*(The following is a transcript of the service audio, March 23, 2025)*

*Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, oh Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen. Bukhara fil Mishmish. Tomorrow there will be apricots. This is one of the first Arabic phrases I learned when, in 2014, I moved to Jerusalem to serve as pastor in the old city there. Shukran, thank you. Marhaba, good day. Yallah, hurry up. And inshallah to be used in every and any occasion were the first things I learned, but I soon learned that if I knew when and where to say Bukhara fil Mishmish, tomorrow there will be apricots, I was received with wide smiles. You see, the apricot season in Jerusalem lasts about one week, and its timing is elusive. This week? Next week? Who could say? Typically it would happen around Easter or shortly thereafter, but whenever it came, however brief, it was a feast.*

*Apricots, when they are in season, apricots called mishmish, you would devour them. Mishmish with cheese, mishmish with chicken, mishmish jam, mishmish in your hand, mishmish in your pockets, mishmish dripping down your cheeks as you're walking through the streets. Mishmish maybe even stashed in your computer bag and forgotten becoming then a mishmish explosion, which my offspring called the best band name ever. Mishmish explosion. Because of the apricots short but spectacular harvest, bukra fil mishmish, tomorrow there'll be apricots was a common phrase. It was what you would say when someone asked about that assignment that you needed to turn in yesterday. Oh, tomorrow there will be apricots. Bukra, bukra, tomorrow. Or when are you going to get your taxes done? Bukra fil Mishmish. Bukra. Or maybe when are you going to finally talk to that cousin that you've had a falling out with Bukra fil Mishmish, but also Bukra fil Mishmish, tomorrow there'll be apricots is what people would say when talking about peace.*

*Or when talking about an end to the occupation, when talking about hopes for the future. Bukra. Bukra fil Mishmish, tomorrow. Now in English, we might want to translate this as when pigs fly, but there's a difference because while I never expect pigs to fly, I do expect the apricots to ripen. And in the same way the Palestinian Christians I lived among, in spite of everything, they do expect peace. They not only hope for it, but fully expect it. Trusting in God, they fully anticipate and expect liberation. They fully anticipate and expect a holy city, but shared by three religions and two peoples. They not only dream of it, but trust in it. They trust in the biblical promise of a new Jerusalem and the tree that grows there with leaves that heal the nations. When will it come? Who knows? But it is coming. Amen? Amen.*

*Bukra fil Mishmish. Tomorrow, there will be apricots. Tomorrow, there will be apricots. Tomorrow we will see the fruits of our labors, our patience and our sufferings, and our repentance. In today's gospel reading, Jesus tells the people a parable about a tree that is not quite ready to bear fruit. He tells those gathered around him, listen, there was a fig tree. It was already three years old. It hadn't borne fruit yet, the owner of the land was quite ready to cut it down because why should it take up space if it's not going to bear fruit? And the gardener said, sir, let it alone for one more year. Let it alone until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good. And if not, then you can cut it down. In other words, the gardener said, Bukra fil Mishmish, tomorrow there will be apricots.*

*Or, in this case, Bukra fil tiyn, tomorrow there will be figs. Give it some time. I'm working on it. I'm working on it. Now, it's a strange little parable, isn't it? And one might wonder what Jesus' deal is with figs. You may remember how in both the gospel according to Matthew and the gospel according to Mark, Jesus curses a fig tree for not bearing fruit. In both of those cases, scripture tells us that Jesus was hungry. Maybe a little hangry, so that may have had something to do with it.*



 

 

 

 Harvard Memorial Church · The Rev. Carrie Ballenger - March 23, 2025 | Sunday Sermon 

 



 

 

 

But today's parable, in today's parable about a fig tree, this appears within a different context. Jesus wasn't hungry, but he was approached by some who wanted to share with him some news. They whispered, did you hear about those Galileans whose blood was mixed with sacrifices? Now, why did they feel the need to share this with Jesus? I think they were looking for some answers. Why did those people have to suffer like that? What did they do? Who was to blame? And as usual, when we humans ask such questions, the more important question lies just underneath: how can I make sure that doesn't happen to me? How can I make sure that I don't suffer in that way?  
Jesus doesn't respond with helpful hints to avoid suffering or judgment. Rather, he says, do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way that they were worse sinners than all the others? No, I tell you, but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those 18 who were killed when that tower fell on the others living in Jerusalem, were they worse offenders than those others in Jerusalem? No, but I tell you, unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.

What a response. It seems a bit odd that Jesus would respond to folks worried about one tragedy by bringing up another one. What does a tower accidentally falling on some people in Jerusalem have to do with Pilate's state-sponsored murder of Galileans, but this is exactly the point. Bad things don't happen to good people. Bad things don't happen to bad people. Bad things happen. Suffering happens. Sin is sin. All have fallen short, which means all of us, each one of us are in need of mercy and forgiveness. Death comes to us all equally one day. Judgment comes to all equally and therefore all are in need of repentance. So quit pointing fingers, Jesus says, quit wondering about what they did. Worry about you. What are you doing now?

There's an urgency to what Jesus says to us. Jesus seems frustrated that even after all of his teaching and healing and miracles, people are still more worried about other people, the sins of others than about their own lives and actions. And not much has changed, has it? When terrible things happen, oh, do we love to justify ourselves and to figure out why we are the ones saved and those we're not. We love to place blame and we do like to be on the right side of things, don't we? We do like to be on the right side. I have a feeling that if a tower in Jerusalem fell today, half the world would blame the occupation, the other half would blame Hamas. And most American Christians would say towers are going to keep falling in the Middle East until Jesus comes back; what can we do?

And still, I believe Jesus would say, don't worry about what they did or didn't do to deserve it. What are you doing? Now is the time. Now is the time for repentance. And this is most certainly true. Now is the time not only during Lent when we are called to turn back towards God, but every day is the time of turning toward God. Now is the hour of repentance for our own sake, for the sake of others, for the sake of the gospel.

We could put it off. We could check our sources, wait for more information. But as our brother Martin Luther once wrote, how soon not now becomes never. Dear siblings in Christ, this is a tough word. I know. I can tell you that preachers like to talk about repentance just as much as congregations like to hear about it, which is not much. Not much. But I feel this is a moment in our world when followers of Jesus truly are asking ourselves whether we are bearing fruit or not. Are we bearing witness to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus in our own lives and in the midst of the horrors happening in our country and at the borders and the catastrophe happening thousands of miles away bankrolled by us? Are we bearing fruit today or are we taking up space in the garden?

One thing I've heard voiced from my own church members down the road, is there a sense that they would like to bear fruit, but they don't even know what kind of fruit tree they might be. Am I a fig tree? Am I an apricot tree? Am I an apple tree? Should I be calling elected officials? Should I be marching in the streets? Should I be praying with my community? Should I be feeding my neighbors? Should I be running for office? Should I be finishing my degree so I can go out and do something next year?  
And that seems to me the answer is yes, yes, yes to all the fruits. Amen? Yes to all the fruits because now is the time. Now is the time to root ourselves and to remember who we are. To remember that when we mirror the life of Christ strengthened by the witness of the Saints who have gone before us, we do bear fruit because we are people of mercy, people of love, people of justice, people of resistance in the face of Empire, people of obedience to God. And now is the time of repentance, turning back toward that source of all good things, God, our creator. God, who in her goodness has given us everything we need for such a time as this. Now is the time to receive the loving care of the great gardener who not only refreshes and waters us daily with scripture but also digs in and fertilizes the soil we call home through the words of the Saints and the prophets of today and the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit.

Believe me, when we dig deep, when we receive that nourishment from our roots, we will bear fruit. You will bear fruit. Amen. You will bear fruit. And also, be not afraid, for while all fruits are welcome, you don't need to bear all the fruits. Our brother, Archbishop Oscar Romero, who will be remembered by the church tomorrow on the day of his martyrdom, put it like this. We cannot do everything. And there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

Hear that again, we cannot do everything, but that knowledge liberates us to do something. Dear ones, the great gardener has got a shovel and some manure and is not giving up on us. Let us not receive that grace, the grace of the great gardener as permission to just rest in our inward piety. But rather now halfway into our Lenten journey, let us not only return to the Lord, but turn our sights toward that beautiful day to come, the day of life, the day of plenty, the day that defines who we are as a people. The day of resurrection. Let us bear fruit. Fruit that lasts because Bukhara fil Mishmish, tomorrow there will be apricots. Tomorrow, there will be liberation. Soon, Christ will be raised. We believe it. And in Christ crucified and risen, we are freed to live it. Thanks be to God. And let the peace of God which passes all understanding, keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

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