Perspectacles on Suffering
- Pastor Serena Rice
- Mar 24
- 7 min read
A sermon on Luke 13:1-9.
[an audio recording of this sermon is available here. Photo by Walter Frehner on Unsplash.com]
One of my friends from college invented a wonderful word[1] when our kids were all toddlers.
The genesis of this new word was the experience of just how long it takes to walk anywhere when that walk includes a toddler who has the inarguable need to stop every few steps to marvel at some new discovery.
My friend observed that her first instinct on such meandering journeys was to get frustrated by the glacial pace of progress.
But she also realized that this response was a reaction to her assumption that arriving at the destination was the primary goal of their excursion, and that efficiency in the process of getting there was the greatest good.
However, her daughter’s goal was to learn about the world that she was passing through, and her greatest good was the thrill of wonder that came with taking time to examine each new flower, and shiny pebble, and cloud.
And my friend realized that she had a choice. Her experience of these slow journeys was conditioned by the point of view that she adopted. If she could get her mind to take on her daughter’s perspective, she could find precious joy and connection in the slowest of walks.
And thus was born a new word: my friend started metaphorically donning her “perspectacles” to intentionally take on the point of view that gave her access to toddler-like wonder and joy in a very slow walking pace.
I have thought about those toddler perspectacles many times in the last 15-or-so years, and I have also thought about how the idea of perspectacles applies in so many other contexts as well.
It’s such a clear and accessible way of describing the importance of being aware of the perspective we are taking…
and such a powerful reminder that – once we have that awareness – we can control which perspecticles we choose look through.
And that choice determines what we will see.
I think this challenge to reconsider one’s perspective is at least a part of Jesus’ point in his dialogue about the described catastrophes in today’s gospel.
His questions to the crowd shine a light on the kind of meaning they are looking to find in the tragedies of mass slaughter and accidental deaths.
“Do you think… these deaths are caused by the victims’ sin? Do you think that violent death is evidence of fault? Are you looking for an explanatory system that lays the blame for such tragedies at the feet of the suffering?”
“Think again,” Jesus rebukes. “You are getting the wrong lesson from these events because you are asking the wrong questions. You are looking to find a clear system of punishment for behavior, so that you can distance yourself from the fear of random violence and loss. But you are looking for something that isn’t there. Do not falsely comfort yourself with an assurance of safety based on merit.”
Jesus’s warning against looking for a formula-for-safety is emphasized by the parable he then shares.
As the hymn we will sing in a few minutes makes clear, the production of fruit from “once barren soil” has almost nothing to do with the effort of the plant.
It is the gardener’s care, along with water, and sun, and good seed that produces a harvest.
So it is in the parable: the fig tree (if given sentience) could potentially feel anxious about the potential to be uprooted if there is still no fruit in the coming year, but there’s nothing it can do with that anxiety.
It is the gardener’s work to care for the roots and ensure rich soil. And all of that is outside of the fig tree’s control.
So, yes, the insight about intentional awareness of perspective is relevant for the people Jesus is speaking with in today’s gospel reading, but perhaps even more importantly, I think it is relevant for the lessons we take from the story.
Because the perspective we take, the priorities we focus on, the questions that we ask will absolutely determine the meaning that we find in this story as well.
I know that because I have heard or read many a take on this reading that tries to parse out exactly the formula-for-safety that Jesus is cautioning against looking for.
Interpretations that lean into fear, warning against sin and judgment, rather than heeding Jesus’s reframing that these are the wrong things to be taking from the story.
And I understand why that is such an easy pair of perspecticles to put on.
When faced with the ugly and frightening reality of seemingly random death and violence, it is natural to look for a guarantee that it won’t happen to me.
Actually, when faced by any kind of uncertainty the human instinct is to look for a water-tight system of rules and explanations that will tell us what to do so that we can assure our success.
This was the theme of our forum conversation last Sunday, exploring the wisdom of Proverbs.
Proverbs is definitely the most formulaic set of Biblical wisdom writings.
For the most part, it teaches a binary worldview that a life of sin will lead to destruction, whereas a life of righteousness will be rewarded.
The overt framing of the books is that of rules to live by for the young, coaching a pattern of behavior that will keep their feet on the straight and narrow path of righteousness and wisdom and warning them against the dangers of sin and foolishness.
It’s simplistic, but in our discussion we could recognize the appeal: there are plenty of areas of life in which we want clear, uncompromising rules.
We like the clarity of traffic signals that keep other drivers from plowing into us when we have the right-of-way.
We all deeply value living in a constitutional democracy where there are laws that protect civil liberties regardless of who holds power.
We didn’t talk about it last Sunday, but I imagine we all wish the rules about building multi-lanes highways over abandoned mines had been a little bit clearer back when Route 80 was under construction. I’m just sayin’…
Danger, Fear, Anxiety: these emotions evoke in us a visceral desire for a-formula-for-safety, a guarantee that if we just follow the concrete rules, everything will be OK.
But as we talked in the forum, we also recognize how frustrating and inadequate inflexible, simplistic rules can be.
They can catch us in systems where we feel compelled to keep harmful family secrets.
They can load us down with guilt when we’ve been told that all we have to do to succeed is to work hard, but we are exhausted by effort and failure.
They can act as a barrier to compassion, and to grace, and to taking another person’s perspective.
And when we talked about our own “rules for success” they were much more nuanced and generous.
Rules like: “accept yourself and accept others,” “remember that there is always more to learn,” “practice contentment, whatever your circumstances,” and the classic serenity prayer.
In our conversation, we recognized a desire for a worldview that could deal with the messiness and the complexity of real life… that could offer us a guide to faithfulness and groundedness regardless of circumstances.
(By the way, that’s where we are heading in today’s forum after worship. You should join it.)
I other words, we independently recognized the truth of Jesus’s challenge in today’s gospel: the challenge to ask a better question than “who is to blame” or “how do I stay safe.”
This raises the question, of course, about what better question Jesus would ask of us.
And that question pushes us up against Jesus’s uncomfortable words about repentance.
No, I’m not ignoring that word.
I am very aware that for all Jesus might be challenging the crowd’s desire to draw a straight line from violent death to sinfulness, he is not exactly preaching grace here!
After he rejects the victim-blaming in each of the disasters he then tells the people to ‘repent’!
It’s fair to ask what that exhortation is about if it’s not a warning that the people will suffer the same fate if they don’t change their ways?”
But this is where our English translations can cause us problems because there are a whole lot of associations with the word “repent” that lose the root meaning of the Greek μετανοέω (metanoéō), which means a change of mind.[2]
So, what if we insert that definition into Jesus’s teaching:
“Do you think the Galileans were slaughtered because they were sinners? No. Change your mindset so that you don’t perish in the same way.”
“Or do you think the victims of the tower collapse were worse than you? No, but if you don’t change your thinking you will be caught in the same trap.”
The victims in these stories suffered violence, but they also suffered that violence in a system that assumed they must be to blame.
The people Jesus was teaching couldn’t change the reality of their world. They couldn’t eliminate the danger of sudden, violent death. But they could change the meaning they gave to it. And that change is no small thing.
Because a worldview of rules-for-safety teaches us to rely first and always on OURSELVES: our wisdom, our righteousness, our deserving for only good things.
But we live in a world that does not always give people what they deserve.
Which means that our true hope lies not in our own ability to produce fruit that will protect us from all possibility of random evil.
Rather, our hope lies with our good gardener. Who will advocate for us, and nurture us, and who will ultimately go to the cross for us.
So that whatever evil we may experience, we know that is not the end. And we know that we will not be held to blame.
Thanks be to God.
[1] Kacy Yardley used the word “perspectacles” in a blog post around 2010. I have not been able to find any online evidence of its use earlier than that time, although it is now used by at least one other content creator.
