There were present at that season some who told Him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And Jesus answered and said to them, “Do you suppose that these Galileans were worse sinners than all other Galileans, because they suffered such things? I tell you, no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish. Or those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them, do you think that they were worse sinners than all other men who dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish.” Luke 13:1-5

In the aftermath of the devastation recently wrought by Hurricane Katrina, it is easy to imagine someone asking Jesus, “Do you suppose that these [Gulf coast folks] were worse sinners than all other [Americans] because they suffer such things?” (Luke 13:2) They might have added: “Well, were they not told to evacuate? And look at all that looting.” Pretty soon, this kind of talk buries anything resembling compassion under a mountain of criticism, blame-shifting, and callous indifference.

In response to His questioners Jesus uses tragedy to put in perspective the matter of personal judgment from God in relation to the sufferer. He leads the living non-sufferers to get some concern about their own souls—and, by implication, some real sympathy for those who suffered loss.

The Lord is dealing with us personally in all His providences, good and bad. He is working out His purposes in the details of our experience. He has a gracious purpose for those who are His, however hard their experiences may be (Rom. 8:28).

It is also true that hardships are, in general terms, described as judgments in Scripture. Thus the prophet in Isaiah 26:9 prays to the Lord, “With my soul I have desired You in the night, yes, by my spirit within me I will seek You early; for when Your judgments are in the earth, the inhabitants of the world will learn righteousness.” The psalmist confesses in Psalm 119:67, “Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I keep Your word.”

The bad things that happen in our world are, in general terms, to be regarded as “judgments.” But notice that there is also a redemptive thread running through these things, because they serve God’s purposes in the lives of those He has saved and yet will save.

This is exactly what we see in Jesus’ message in Luke 13:1-5. He notes that in our reaction to the troubles and tragedies of life in a fallen world, there is in us a common tendency (13:1), a common assumption (13:2, 4), and a common need (13:3, 5). We are directed in all of this to the way of salvation in Jesus Christ.

The Tendency: Them, Not Us

This is the only mention in recorded history of Pilate killing Galileans at the Temple. The historian Josephus records Pilate killing Samaritans on Mt. Gerizim at their sacrifices. Presumably there was a disturbance that became a riot, and the military must have quelled it violently. Whatever caused this, it was tragic and bloody. Some present with Jesus told Him about it. Two points emerge from what Jesus says.

First, it is always easier to talk about other people’s tragedies than to face our own. The sufferings of others are news; our sufferings are too painful and miserable to discuss in public with any detachment. It is not an accident that the term “media frenzy” is associated principally with scandals and tragedies and that it sells with the spectators who are comfortable at home. A newspaper headline in the U.S. long ago has an air of disappointment to it: “Earthquake in Chile: Not Many Dead.” The bottom line seems to be: More deaths, more readers.

Second, there seems to be a perverse kind of comfort in seeing this happen to them—in Luke it is the “Galileans”—while the rest of us are spared. We can say, “It could easily have been me” and give thanks, even as we sympathize, but often we can be quite unmoved and even morbidly curious. We can simultaneously tell ourselves, “It will never happen to me!”

What do you think about the devastated people of the Gulf Coast? Do you feel the force of your mortality, in their sufferings? Your common frailty? The nearness of eternity? Are you weeping with those that weep? (Rom. 12:15).

Or, do you find yourself saying something like, “That’s what you get for living below sea level, for not evacuating”? Jesus shows us that it is as much about us as them. They are us—frail sinners in a fallen world; mere minnows before the onrush of mighty waters, poor sinners accountable to a holy and, therefore, offended God.

The Assumption: They Must Have Invited This

The tendency described above arises from a common and detrimental assumption. Jesus reveals this with masterfully loaded questions. He sees our hearts and is intent on probing our consciences. He asks, “Do you suppose” (v. 2) that dead Galileans are worse sinners than living Galileans? And “Do you think” (v. 4) that dead Jerusalemites are worse sinners than living ones?

In their assessment of the victims of tragedy, the original inquirers slid from compassion to judgment. They must have suffered because they were worse sinners than the rest of us! Perhaps you have thought, “Isn’t New Orleans such a wicked city? Did you see all those gambling dens in Biloxi, Mississippi? Isn’t Mardi Gras just an excuse for drunkenness and revelry and worse?” Chances are that if you didn’t think these thoughts, you heard them somewhere and did not disagree.

Sin does have consequences. In Deuteronomy 28:30, God’s Word sets out blessings and curses relative to obedience and disobedience to the revealed will of God. It is certainly true that “the soul that sins shall die” (Ezek. 18:4).

Is the opposite equally true? Are all events the consequences of specific personal sins? Must they always have causative sins? Scripture is clear that there is no simple relationship between bad experiences and preceding actions. Solomon notes in Ecclesiastes 7:15, “There is a just man who perishes in his righteousness, and there is a wicked man who prolongs life in his wickedness.” Then in Ecclesiastes 9:2, he adds, “All things come alike to all: One event happens to the righteous and the wicked; to the good, the clean, and the unclean; to him who sacrifices and him who does not sacrifice. As is the good, so is the sinner; he who takes an oath as he who fears an oath.”

Do you see the point? Earth is not heaven. The creation itself groans and travails, waiting for the redemption of the sons of God (Rom. 8:22). Meanwhile, the same event happens to the righteous and the wicked. Inside all of this, God’s secret purpose for each individual is being worked out—out of reach of our perceptions and beyond any simplistic definition.

For example, I can easily name better men than I who have been removed by early death from useful ministry and from young families that needed them: Trevor MacAuley, RP pastor in Ireland, 35; Don Streit, RP elder in State College, Pa., 42; Ray Blair, RP pastor in Rose Point, Pa., 51. None of them died “full of years” like the patriarchs of the Old Testament. Were they “worse sinners”? And what of children dying in infancy? The very suggestion is as grotesque as it is unbiblical.

There are, to be sure, instances in Scripture of direct judgments for specific sin, but they are few and far between. One thinks of the Canaanites, of Ananias and Sapphira, and of Herod Agrippa I. Even Judas Iscariot had to hang himself. We only know these to be definitive judgments upon specific sins because God’s Word reveals it to us. We have no warrant from Scripture to conclude that an illness or a death must be a judgment on some particular sin. These are the exceptions that prove a different rule, namely that God is longsuffering and holds out His salvation to us year after year and generation upon generation.

It is “through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not” (Lam. 3:22). If we find ourselves safe at home, while others are swamped by foul weather, our response should be, “They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” (Lam. 3:23). And compassion should flow to all the victims, without reserve.

Why do the assumptions keep popping up that tragedy is reserved for really wicked people? The answer is at least twofold: It is self-serving, and it is self-justifying. We get to put down others, and puff ourselves up. Even more significantly, we avoid facing our own spiritual condition and indulge some sense that God is at least with us. John Calvin exposes our subtle judgmental attitude: “This disease is almost natural to us, to be too rigorous and severe in judging of others, and too much disposed to flatter our own faults” (Harmony of the Gospels, vol. 2, p. 151).

Let us rather assume these things: The world is a fallen and a hard place, and we are called to sympathize—“to weep with those that weep”—and commend all to Jesus. We are called to account before the Lord. “Examine yourselves as to whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Do you not know yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless indeed you are disqualified” (2 Cor. 13:5).

The Need: To Be Right With the Lord

Jesus turns our attention from conclusions about sufferers’ misfortunes. He calls us to focus on our own spiritual state. “Sad providences,” writes Matthew Henry (Commentary, vol. 5, p. 719), “ought to be observed by us, and the knowledge of them communicated to others, that they and we may be suitable affected with them, and make a good use of them.” Hence Jesus’ solemn word, twice spoken for emphasis: “I tell you no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish.”

1. Jesus is saying that their tragedy should lead you to think of your eternal destiny. That is, the fact of your approaching death is in every death you see, every tragedy, and all suffering. We will all perish from the earth. Hurricanes hit certain coasts, kill certain people, and devastate certain communities, but, short of the Lord’s second coming, you will all die of something. Jesus is asking, “What then?”

2. Jesus is implying that compassion and empathy ought to be the response. Tragedy argues our common weakness, common vulnerability, sinfulness, and universal need of a Savior. It may be foolish to build a house on sand, or live behind an inadequate levee, but hurricanes are no respecters of persons. God is dealing with us one by one, but that is His secret will and not what we are given to see. Neither falling towers in Siloam nor Category 5 hurricanes in the Gulf of Mexico cry “worse sinners” over their victims. We too are sinners, and our hearts should break for their miseries.

3. Jesus also offers us hope for life henceforth and for eternity. Since you are not dead yet, realize that you are being called to Him that you might live forever—that you might be saved and have eternal life in Him. Solomon reminds us that “for him who is joined to the living there is hope, for a living dog is better than a dead lion” (Eccl. 9:4). But that hope lasts no longer than life, so “Today, if you will hear His voice, do not harden your hearts” (Heb. 3:15, quoting Ps. 95:7-8).

“Unless you repent” is both a warning and an invitation to life. Tragedy and death bring us to the bar of heaven to give account to the Lord. Solomon understood this when he said funerals are much more helpful to us than parties: “Better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for that is the end of all men; and the living will take it to heart” (Eccl. 7:2).

Hurricane Katrina is an enormous tragedy. It is a vast reality check. It calls us all to Jesus Christ. Jesus calls us to Himself in this present calamity, as surely as He did in the face of tragedy in Jerusalem so long ago, to “repentance toward God and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ” (Acts 20:21). We too will either repent or perish.