Scripture can be found here…
This passage has a kind of whiplash quality, don’t you think? Jesus says one thing, and then, appears to say the exact opposite. But maybe that’s to expected when current affairs are being discussed. There are two parts to this passage. Let’s call the discussion of current events Part 1, and the parable that follows, Part 2. But please note; the passage is a whole. Part 2 is speaking to Part 1.
Part 1:
Ancient sources that are not the Bible—writers like Josephus, and Philo of Alexandria—remind us of how sadistic Pontius Pilate was. During his tenure as governor of Judea, he was recalled to Rome to answer for his violent suppression of a Samaritan uprising. That the Emperor should think a governor was too violent is remarkable and revealing. In this passage, it’s reported to Jesus that Pilate authorized soldiers to enter the Temple to kill Jews while they were offering sacrifices—their blood mixing with the blood of the animals they’d brought, in the middle of worship. This was an atrocity. But it was also a terrible act of desecration of the Temple, the holiest place in the world for ancient Jews, the place they considered God’s literal home on earth.
Jesus responds to a question no one asks, but it must have been on people’s minds: Were these people from Galilea killed because they were “worse sinners than other Galileans?” No, Jesus says. They were not. But, he adds, unless you repent, you will end up like them.
And here’s our first case of whiplash. Hasn’t Jesus just contradicted himself? The people weren’t killed because of their sinfulness, but maybe the people in front of Jesus right now will be?
He reminds the people of another current event: the collapse of a large tower, killing eighteen souls. Were they killed because they were particularly bad sinners? Same question, same answer. No! They did not suffer this fate because of their sin. Terrible things happening to you are not a sign that you are terrible. But…better look out. Better repent anyway. At least, that’s what Jesus seems to say.
Two examples of deadly events, both man-made—one ordered by cruel Pilate, and the other, presumably the result of poor construction. Two times Jesus says, the victims weren’t responsible, followed by what feels like an about face, for the people he’s speaking to.
Now for Part 2.
At this point Jesus offers a little story, a parable. A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard. That’s interesting. The owner of the vineyard had someone plant a different kind of plant there. Those of you who are gardeners will have heard of companion plants—plants that do well growing together. I did a bit of research to determine whether figs are good companion plants for grapevines. A number of plants are—blackberries, geraniums, oregano and peas are, among others. No mention of figs, though, and fig trees and grapevines need soil of slightly different in quality. A vineyard’s soil probably wouldn’t have enough nutrients for a fig tree.
The owner of the vineyard, understandably, came to the tree looking for figs, but found none—and this wasn’t the first time. He complains to the gardener that he’s tried to get figs from this tree for three years, and nada. His patience is at an end. “Chop it down,” he orders. The thing’s a waste of space.
The gardener has another idea. Let me work with it, let’s give it another year, he suggests to his master. This is a bold move in the ancient Middle East. The gardener may be hired help, he may be a slave. In either case, he’s taking a risk by disagreeing with the owner, suggesting he, the gardener, might know better than his master.
Why does he do it? Maybe because it’s clear to him that he does know better. Maybe, as the person who’s been caring for the tree, he feels a responsibility to make sure he’s tried absolutely everything he can. Maybe he believes the tree is in a normal fallow season, one that he might be able to coax it out of by digging a trench around it and adding the much-needed nutrients via manure.
Maybe he doesn’t think that worth is dependent on being productive. That would be a counter-cultural position, for sure—then and now.
And that’s where the story ends. We don’t know the outcome, either for the fig tree, or for the people who brought that horror story to Jesus. Will the tree give fruit? Will the people repent? It’s very much like Jesus to leave us with this kind of cliff-hanger.
Maybe that’s because we’re the ones who have to decide.
Let’s go back to part 1 of our passage. Jesus uses that word, “Repent,” and to most of us that’s a term that goes hand in hand with fire-and-brimstone messages about… the terrible things that could happen to us if God is actually vengeful, if we don’t get our act together.
But that word means something more subtle, and more beautiful. The Greek word is “metanoia.” It means, literally, turn around. One good definition is “a transformative change of heart.” And I don’t think Jesus is actually contradicting himself, when he tells the people to transform their hearts and lives. He’s not threatening them with hell. He’s reminding them of the consequences when a society or its leaders embrace violence and carelessness.
Unless we as a culture have a transformative change of heart—unless we turn around from the path we are on, such atrocities and tragedies will in fact keep happening. If we keep glorifying power without demanding that it be paired with moral courage, we’ll be stuck with leaders like Pilate. If we neglect to ensure that buildings are constructed safely and wisely, we will see people die when they collapse.
That’s what the parable is talking about. If we treat only symptoms (it’s barren, chop it down) and don’t pay attention to causes (no one has bothered to provide nurture), we will continue to miss out on some of the sweetest things life has to offer us.
It’s like that old story about the people washing their garments in the river, when they start to see babies floating by. They pull the babies out as quickly as they can, dry them off, warm them up, but more and more babies keep coming. Finally the first one to have pulled a baby out of the river stands to leave.
“Where are you going?” the others ask, still frantically rescuing babies. They reply, “I’m going upstream, to stop whoever’s throwing the babies in the river.”
Jesus doesn’t want anyone to perish—not by slaughter, not by preventable accidents. Not by being chopped down, like the fig tree. Jesus wants the people he heals and teaches to thrive by loving God with their whole being, and loving their neighbors as themselves. That includes us. Like the fig tree, Jesus considers us worthy of the extra effort. What’s more, God considers us worthy. Otherwise, why Jesus?
In Jesus’ time as ours, sin isn’t just a private matter. It's a collective responsibility. People and fig trees alike deserve a chance to live—to know abundant life, under God’s wings. You are worthy. We are worthy. Why should we miss out on the sweetest things life has to offer us?
Thanks be to God. Amen.