Why do you think Jesus cursed that fig tree....
Posted: August 25th, 2007, 10:05 am
In the gospel attributed to Mark (chapter 11) and in the gospel attributed ot Matthew (chapter 21), Jesus is returning to Jerusalem and is hungry along the way. Jesus sees a fig tree and looks for figs on it, but this is shortly before his death, placing the encounter around Passover and too early for figs to be in season. Without being told Jesus' emotional state (and often in the gospels we are told when Jesus is angered or moved by deep pity), the gospel writers tell us that Jesus said to the tree (the word "curse" is not actually in the text, though Peter later asks Jesus about the tree he had cursed): May no one ever eat fruit from you again (per Mark) / May no fruit ever come from you again (per Matthew).
So what do I think of this?
On the surface level, Jesus demonstrates power and authority. To what Jesus commands, even a fig tree submits. Jesus immediately here explains to his disciples that anything asked for with true faith in prayer will be--and even more than a withered tree, a mountain could be lopped into the sea. Thus Jesus is shown to be faithful and powerful. Jesus' authority to command a fig tree becomes the answer to the question that follows in Matthew's gospel where the Pharisees ask Jesus by what authority he performs his deeds: only the Almighty can order nature, so if Jesus does this, it is by the authority of the Holy One. In Mark's gospel, Jesus leaves the tree and goes to the temple which he then purges of those merchants and moneychangers who make his "Father's house a den of thieves." This is also a claim of union with the Holy One. Jesus is ordering nature and ordering the Temple as one with authority, namely the Holy Name.
That's my surface reading...but my heart and faith ponder the account also in other ways....
The fig tree is what it is: a perfectly good fig tree that will produce its fruit in season as the Creator has deemed fit. But Jesus is hungry and looks the tree over for a reality that simply isn't real. Jesus wants the tree to conform to his hunger's desire rather than to conform to the nature it is divinely given. And when the desired fruit is not found, the tree is forsaken--not merely cursed to die, but stripped of its absolute worth. It is as if Jesus is saying, "If you are not for me what I want you to be, may you never be for anyone else." And the forsaken tree withers to its roots--but is not necessarily gone for good. And when asked about this, Jesus teaches about the certainty of faith: hope. Whatever is asked for in pure faith will be given.
I engage this tradition of the fig tree as Jesus modeling to me my sinful (re: selfish) human nature, the human nature by which I demand Jesus' murder.
I am hungry for the god that I desire--and when I see the Holy One as in a mirror dimly or as at a distance, I run and expect the Divine to conform to my idolatrous conceptions of what God should be. And when I do not find the god I have desired, I forsake the true God by whom I am confronted and actively seek to surpress that truth from others in a world I would rather control by my own desires.
In Jesus I meet my God, who is not the god I would selfishly desire. Jesus is not the military hero or the shrewd political figure who kicks out my enemies and establishes my utopian heaven-on-earth. So, along with my forebears in first-century CE Jerusalem, I say to Jesus: May no one ever eat from you again. I have Jesus killed. I have him murdered because he is not the god I want him to be.
BUT! Even in this there is hope, because Jesus is the god who is God. And God-who-is-God is gracious enough to wither down to the roots by the hate of humanity and to die...but a tree that withers to the roots holds promise to one day sprout forth again with new life.
Jesus, who is Faith incarnate, by whose faith even a mountain might be cast away into the ocean, is willing that we might see ourselves as images of God in his own divine image, the image of the invisible God. As Jesus encounters the fig tree, he is perhaps foreshadowing our own relationship with the Divine to the point of the cross. And Jesus then foreshadows the hope of the resurrection.
By this, I am moved to believe that Jesus is establishing the libertyfor me to be free from any need to lie. Jesus knows my selfishness and promises that my worst moments of selfishness will not remove me from God, though I may at times prune the Holy down to its roots so fully that I think the story's over. But if the God made known in Jesus can stand by me faithfully in this, then by what will I truly lose God? Even when I murder God, it is at best penultimate. And with a God so determined to stand with me--even disabling death's possibility for separation--there is no need for me to fear, but grace upon grace for me to live honestly with the Divine Love. And that seems to me nothing else than the Shema and the Greatest Commandment.
This is one journey of faith for which I think Jesus spoke to the fig tree.
So what do I think of this?
On the surface level, Jesus demonstrates power and authority. To what Jesus commands, even a fig tree submits. Jesus immediately here explains to his disciples that anything asked for with true faith in prayer will be--and even more than a withered tree, a mountain could be lopped into the sea. Thus Jesus is shown to be faithful and powerful. Jesus' authority to command a fig tree becomes the answer to the question that follows in Matthew's gospel where the Pharisees ask Jesus by what authority he performs his deeds: only the Almighty can order nature, so if Jesus does this, it is by the authority of the Holy One. In Mark's gospel, Jesus leaves the tree and goes to the temple which he then purges of those merchants and moneychangers who make his "Father's house a den of thieves." This is also a claim of union with the Holy One. Jesus is ordering nature and ordering the Temple as one with authority, namely the Holy Name.
That's my surface reading...but my heart and faith ponder the account also in other ways....
The fig tree is what it is: a perfectly good fig tree that will produce its fruit in season as the Creator has deemed fit. But Jesus is hungry and looks the tree over for a reality that simply isn't real. Jesus wants the tree to conform to his hunger's desire rather than to conform to the nature it is divinely given. And when the desired fruit is not found, the tree is forsaken--not merely cursed to die, but stripped of its absolute worth. It is as if Jesus is saying, "If you are not for me what I want you to be, may you never be for anyone else." And the forsaken tree withers to its roots--but is not necessarily gone for good. And when asked about this, Jesus teaches about the certainty of faith: hope. Whatever is asked for in pure faith will be given.
I engage this tradition of the fig tree as Jesus modeling to me my sinful (re: selfish) human nature, the human nature by which I demand Jesus' murder.
I am hungry for the god that I desire--and when I see the Holy One as in a mirror dimly or as at a distance, I run and expect the Divine to conform to my idolatrous conceptions of what God should be. And when I do not find the god I have desired, I forsake the true God by whom I am confronted and actively seek to surpress that truth from others in a world I would rather control by my own desires.
In Jesus I meet my God, who is not the god I would selfishly desire. Jesus is not the military hero or the shrewd political figure who kicks out my enemies and establishes my utopian heaven-on-earth. So, along with my forebears in first-century CE Jerusalem, I say to Jesus: May no one ever eat from you again. I have Jesus killed. I have him murdered because he is not the god I want him to be.
BUT! Even in this there is hope, because Jesus is the god who is God. And God-who-is-God is gracious enough to wither down to the roots by the hate of humanity and to die...but a tree that withers to the roots holds promise to one day sprout forth again with new life.
Jesus, who is Faith incarnate, by whose faith even a mountain might be cast away into the ocean, is willing that we might see ourselves as images of God in his own divine image, the image of the invisible God. As Jesus encounters the fig tree, he is perhaps foreshadowing our own relationship with the Divine to the point of the cross. And Jesus then foreshadows the hope of the resurrection.
By this, I am moved to believe that Jesus is establishing the libertyfor me to be free from any need to lie. Jesus knows my selfishness and promises that my worst moments of selfishness will not remove me from God, though I may at times prune the Holy down to its roots so fully that I think the story's over. But if the God made known in Jesus can stand by me faithfully in this, then by what will I truly lose God? Even when I murder God, it is at best penultimate. And with a God so determined to stand with me--even disabling death's possibility for separation--there is no need for me to fear, but grace upon grace for me to live honestly with the Divine Love. And that seems to me nothing else than the Shema and the Greatest Commandment.
This is one journey of faith for which I think Jesus spoke to the fig tree.