13 - Chapter 13
CHAPTER XIII THE BARREN FIG-TREE
[N discussing the Sower, we suggested that one of the main points of the parable is that, if the seed is to yield fruit, the soil must be carefully prepared. That lesson is even more clearly brought out in the Fig-Tree. In some of the parables, like the Sower and the Fishing Net, though there are people present, the action moves forward in silence. In others, though there is speech, some of the prominent actors are significantly silent: Lazarus, for example, the tax-collector, and all the figures in the Good Samaritan except the Samaritan himself. Others, again, are conversational parables in which the conclusion is reached after different points of view have been presented. The farmer’s men want to root out the darnel here and now; the farmer decides for delay. The unforgiving creditor, his debtor, his lord, his fellow-servants, all have their views on the treatment of an insolvent debtor by his creditor. The father and the elder brother present two contrasted views on the treatment appropriate for a returning prodigal. The master differs from the one-talent man about the latter’s duty. The owner of the vineyard and his man are at variance in their prescriptions for a fig-tree that bears no figs. As Mr. Cyril Flower has pointed out, apparently the owner had neither planted nor tended the tree himself. He had no love for it; to him it was simply a business proposition, simply a source of income. Poets and artists have thought that there were other things about a tree besides its capacity for earning money; but this gentleman wants no nonsense of that kind.
He is one of the rationalisers of industry. ’ What is a tree for anyhow? “ he asks. ’ If it is not producing an income, it is not only good for nothing; it is occupying valuable space on which one could plant a real tree, a money-making tree.” This man is good at “ cost-accounting,” and “ efficiency “ and “ scrap-heap “ are two of his favourite words. The gardener had an interest in the tree of another kind. He had toiled over it, studied it, perhaps prayed over it; above all, he loved the tree: that made a difference. He quietly accepts the owner’s verdict that a fig-tree should bear figs; “ but,” he pleads, “ before we impose the death penalty on this tree, let us be quite sure that its barrenness is its own fault; it may turn out that it is our fault. Give it a chance, open up the ground all round and let the air in. Feed it; give it some manure; then let us see.’
Jesus knew that a generation trained under the scribes of his day was hardly in a condition to bear fruit. A good deal of digging and manuring was required before one could tell of what they were really capable. Even among his own followers there were many “ little ones “ who in spiritual things hardly knew their right hand from their left, whose tiny spark of spiritual life would be extinguished if they were not treated with infinite tenderness. Some of Paul’s converts bore fruit that could hardly be described even as wild grapes or crab apples.
Instead of expelling them from the Church, he thanked God for them, prayed over them, instructed them. Have the Brahmins of India on the whole rejected the Christ who has been preached to them for a hundred years? Before we shake off the dust of our feet against them, let us be quite sure that the Christ was presented to them in conditions that would reveal him as he is, as something more than a destroyer of Hinduism, as a non-controversial, non-denominational Christ, a Christ not associated in their minds with repellent customs, ideas or people. In the war cry of the Baptist, the axe was already at the root of the tree; the fate of the fruitless tree was already sealed. In the teaching of Jesus God in his infinite patience is always ready to give another chance, to wait another year. But the extra year is not to be a year of idleness; it is to be spent in toil, in ensuring that if the fruitlessness continues, it is because the tree is rotten at the core. As Mr. Flower has pointed out, the parable, like so many of the parables of Jesus, has a wide application. Until quite recently, it was only when we saw a young criminal standing at the bar of justice that we discovered for the first time that we had any relation to him. Now we want to know his whole history from his birth and even before his birth, and we ask: ’ Has he had a chance? Has he been given any moral training, taught any useful occupation, given any rational amusement, secured from a vicious environment, taught anything about the world of unseen realities? ’ Almost till our own day, children were punished, often with great cruelty, for stupidity. Now we recognize that in multitudes of cases what they need is feeding and careful training. We try to diagnose the particular nature and cause of the “ stupidity “ and prescribe the appropriate remedy. The parable is altogether in the spirit of our Lord’s teaching and of his life. Before we condemn a person, an institution, a system, an undertaking, let us make sure it has had its chance. It may be that all it needs is careful, patient attention. But there is one stipulation, the work of digging round the tree and manuring it must be done by one who loves the tree and has a personal interest in its welfare.