Richard Ethun proud husband of Karen, father of Elizabeth, Angela and Cecilia, member of St Lukes for 30 plus years, GoodWill Sunday School Class teacher, Sinner and Saved by Grace

Luke 13:6-9

6 Then he told this parable: ‘A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. 7So he said to the gardener, “See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?” 8He replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig round it and put manure on it. 9If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.” ’

Reflection:
Another President’s Day has come and gone and I’m reminded, in this era of social media, of the fragility of history as seen through a thoroughly modern looking glass— some would say Alice’s Looking Glass. As citizens of this great experiment we call America, we stand on the shoulders of those of power, influence, courage, and sacrifice. In government, at war or in peace, in business, science or service – the view from those shoulders inspired every succeeding generation to imagine more or different. But more importantly, the shoulders of those closest to us were in our living rooms, schools, or churches. Each of us, if we take a minute can recall the shoulders of someone in our family or its sphere who gave a heightened view to inspire and challenge. And yet all of them, from founding fathers and mothers to our own heroic family members, they carried flaws and faults rarely spoken of but borne nonetheless.

My brother and I were notified by the Defense Department that our dad, a highly decorated Air Force Command Officer, was to be interred this April at Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, D.C. With full rights and honors, he is to take his place among the heroes of our country. Presidents Taft and Kennedy, Supreme Court Justices Marshall and Ginsberg, over 400 recipients of the Congressional Medal of Honor, thousands of men and women who served and often gave their lives in service to this country will welcome our dad to their august ranks. In going through his many medals and awards the one for which I am most proud was from the Republic of Vietnam – an award not for courage or bravery in battle, but their highest civilian honor for his work in bringing the countries of Southeast Asia to the table to talk, for diplomacy, for peace.

And yet, when I heard the news of this date in April I was of course happy and relieved but more importantly worried and conflicted. You see, my dad saw shades of grey in geopolitical diplomacy but only black and white when it came to his family. I will be the first to tell you that the Ethun girls growing up had their voices – singing, shouting, whispering, laughing, crying – and all of them at volume 11. They were and are our greatest joy and delight. But not to my father. He saw them as undisciplined and unruly and so they were never allowed to enter his house here in Houston. He never called on birthdays or Christmases. Never stopped by to see how they were. Never displayed the slightest interest in their welfare for 39 years. Though I confronted him many times over those years to let them close so they could see the person I knew my dad to be – nothing. A barren tree.

And so you can see my dilemma. I, of course, would join my brother on the trip to Washington to honor my father’s final resting place but how to approach my family. You can probably guess the result. Our oldest daughter, an ordained Methodist Minister, and her entire family will fly up, and she will conduct the service for her grandfather. Our middle daughter, businesswoman, and mother of two with her newest born just 2 months ago, will fly up and be there – “Of course, Dad.”  And our youngest, a surgical oncologist from Manhattan will be there to represent and honor her grandfather.

You see, when I read Jesus’ Parable of the Barren Fig Tree in the Gospel of Luke, I always focused on the harshness of the owner who wanted to get rid of a nonproductive tree just taking up space and totally missed the nurturing gardener willing to give it just a little more care. My daughters do indeed come from warrior stock — strong, capable and self-confident but they have taken the view from those shoulders and imagined how they could be different. They have nurtured an unproductive tree with love, compassion, and understanding and shown me the healthy garden Christ imagines for us all.

Prayer:
God of Grace and Glory, thank you for that great cloud of witnesses who have carried us and lighted our paths with their grace. Help us to see them and ourselves as parts, struggling to be whole. It is through your love and care that we are made so.  In the love of your Son Jesus Christ, I pray. Amen.