Collateral Figs

16Aug
In the morning, as he was returning to the city, he became hungry. And seeing a fig tree by the wayside, he went to it and found nothing on it but only leaves. And he said to it, “May no fruit ever come from you again!” And the fig tree withered at once.

-Matthew 21:18-19


In our household of three boys, no sisters, our father commanded the ship with vaguely military boundaries. For instance, if I questioned why Alfred, my older brother, could stay up late and watch Peter Pan in color; dad’s answer was simply, “R.H.I.P” (“Rank has its privileges!”). As the middle son, the birth-order peace-keeper, I especially felt put upon by “When brothers fight; everybody’s wrong!” Regardless the origin of sibling strife, we were all disciplined. Accordingly, in my DOCC course; when asked who I identified with in the Prodigal Son story; my answer was immediately, “The Fatted Calf”. I lived the concept of Collateral Damage. 


The poor fig tree was just rooted along the road in a fruitless moment, nevertheless, still working hard to provide shade to passersby with its big leaves. Wrong place at the wrong time.


It is late in Jesus’ ministry. His disciples are still slow to comprehend his message. They are squabbling over who is Jesus’ favorite, and want to know how to they are to follow Jesus to eternity without Google earth. Jesus seems hungry, angry, lonely, and tired, a set of human conditions about which 12-steppers warn us; not a propitious place for decision-making.


Cliff’s Notes or AI, as it’s called these days, would tell us it’s not about the Fig Tree. It’s a parable, stupid. It’s about religious Judea missing the opportunity to bear fruit while the Messiah is walking among them. If I accept that opaque interpretation of the scene, I miss the opportunity to identify with the Fig Tree, to consider collateral damage in Christian decisions. I miss the opportunity to have the kind of teaching moment the Trinity Men’s Bible Breakfast Group enjoyed last year.


The surgeon among us said of the smitten fig, “I get it. It’s like the appendix; if it’s not functioning, cut it out.” The Lawyers said, “Well, there are mitigating circumstances. Figs are not in season; and what about the farmer’s interest in this…?” The two artists said, “The fig is such a beautiful fruit, so fecund, so voluptuous. Wait till it fruits...” We were all right; or at least, we were all not, all wrong. 


In the moments when I sense the presence of God’s Grace upon me, I see connections everywhere - connections I do not see when I am busy and fearful, hungry, angry, lonely, or tired. The connections are beautiful and fecund. And like Nature and the natural laws, there are connections that seem inconvenient to us, that create collateral damage. There are predators and prey. Bambi is some creature’s lunch. This I trust: Jesus is love and beauty. Plump figs and prowling lions are all a part. As St. Augustine would tell us, God Himself is Beauty, not just the source of beautiful things. Our task is caring for the condition of our hearts and mind as we reach for the beauty that is God. I love Jesus and I feel bad for the fig tree. Both can be true.


Musical Reflection - How Lovely is Thy Dwelling Place - Brahms - The Cambridge Singers


God of beauty and truth and hope and Love, help me to find that peaceful, empty place where I can seek you, clear-eyed; able see the infinite lattice of gorgeous connections of which we are a part. How lovely is thy dwelling place. Amen.

GraceJudgementGospelPentecost

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