This Sunday, The Lord Sees Your Fig Tree; Five Takeaways for the Third Sunday of Lent

Jesus gives us a harsh warning followed by unimaginable comfort in the Gospel this Sunday.

Here are five takeaways for the Third Sunday of Lent, Year C taken from from This Sunday columns at this site and the Extraordinary Story podcast.

First: Jesus is saying more than you think he is in Sunday’s Gospel.

Jesus shares two examples from the news. First, he refers to a cruel act by an oppressive government. It seems that Pilate had insurrectionist Galileans killed while they were going to the Temple for sacrifice. This act is often suggested to be the reason that Herod and Pilate were “at enmity” with each other.

Second, Jesus refers to a construction accident — or perhaps it was an act of anti-government terrorism — when one of the towers of an aqueduct fell, somehow, killing 18.

So we should take care to see the right lesson in these events. At first, the lesson might seem to be “bad things don’t necessarily just happen to bad people.” But Jesus seems to have something even deeper in mind. What he actually says is,  “Do you think they were more guilty than everyone else who lived in Jerusalem? By no means! But I tell you, if you do not repent, you will all perish as they did!”

That suggests that his message is not simply, “Don’t worry, bad things happen whether you sin or not.” Jesus seems to be saying, “Repent and change your life! The world is dangerous and your soul is in peril.”

The two examples he gives also provide us with the greatest hope imaginable — but more on that in a moment.

Second: Jesus seems to change the subject but actually doubles down by telling the parable of the fig tree.

In his story, an orchard owner comes across a fig tree that has given no fruit, and he asks his gardener to cut it down. The orchard owner is God, and we, like the Jewish people before us, are the fig tree.

In the story, the fig tree lacks fruit — or, by analogy, the Church lacks vocations and lacks converts. In fact, this fig tree could be any parish, or Catholic family, or Catholic individual, that is too complacent.

What is the orchard owner’s attitude toward such a fig tree? “Cut it down! Why should it exhaust the soil?” he asks. Why should God shower graces on a people who do nothing with them but rest in the warm sun all day? Jesus sees no end for such a people except destruction.

But the gardener asks for mercy, and gets it. He says, “Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future. If not you can cut it down.”

This is what God had given us — a time of mercy. But mercy doesn’t mean he shrugs off our sins and no longer cares about them. Mercy means he gives us a second chance to repent and change our life, or put our soul at peril. Which one we choose is on us.

Third: The First Reading shows that God is ready and willing to have us back. He will even make the first move.

The First Reading, from Exodus, describes how the Israelites in Moses’ day are in a terrible situation. They are slaves to the Egyptians and have gotten so accustomed to their captivity that they seem to have lost the desire to strive — or even pray — for freedom.

Nonetheless, God hears their pain and comes to help them. He begins by appearing to Moses in a bush that is aflame but unhurt by the flames, a shocking sign, and then insists that Moses take off his sandals and tread carefully. He says “I have witnessed the affliction of my people in Egypt and have heard their cry of complaint against their slave drivers … Therefore I have come down to rescue them.”

That’s fascinating. Notice that he doesn’t say he has heard their prayer — because they haven’t prayed. Instead, he has been watching them, caring for them, and is ready to take another step in salvation history.

Moses asks his name and God gives the famous answer, “This is what you should tell the Israelites: I Am sent you,” meaning, that he is pure being, the very act “to be” in theological language, the ground of all existence. But that high theological answer isn’t the only name he gives. He also adds that he is “The Lord, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob … This is my name forever.”

So they learn who they are dealing with: He is Almighty God, the one who is entirely Other — but at the same time he is the God of their particular ancestors.

We are often in the same predicament the Israelites are in. Especially in America, we may know we are in slavery to sin, but we can feel like things are comfortable for us and we don’t need to change our lives. This is particularly dangerous, because the lack of the willingness to repent is the only sin God can’t forgive.

God takes the initiative to set us straight.

Fourth: The Second Reading says that though God takes the initiative, we have to respond.

St. Paul took the lesson of Moses and the Israelites and applied it to the Gentile Corinthians in the First Century AD by sharing Jewish history with them in the Second Reading.

He tells them that God poured blessings out on his people, bringing them out of Egypt, taking them across the Red Sea, then accompanying them in the desert. But even after all of that initiative by God, they rejected God’s gifts and “were struck down in the desert.”

“These things happened as examples for us,” St. Paul says, “and they have been written down as a warning to us. … Therefore, whoever thinks he is standing secure should take care not to fall.”

We have been very blessed, even more than God’s Chosen People were, because we have been welcomed into the company of Christ. God has showered gifts on us. But St. Paul says the same fate awaits us if we reject these gifts. The Psalm reinforces the lesson: “Merciful and gracious is the Lord, slow to anger and abounding in kindness. For as the heavens are high above the earth, so surpassing is his kindness toward those who fear him.”

But what about those who don’t fear him? How is he toward them? God is eternally good and patient. He never fails. But we do. The good news is, it’s never too late to repent — until time runs out.

Fifth: And then we get to the real hope.

And now, as promised, we return to those examples Jesus gives us in the Gospel, to see how they reveal the greatest hope imaginable.

Remember, Jesus refers to the Galileans who were victims of the government, whose blood was mingled with the sacrifices — and the other victims of the Siloam tower.

Compare those tragedies to what Jesus Christ, God himself, took onto himself in Passion week. In his Passion, he, too, was a Galilean executed such that his blood became mingled with Passover sacrifices. Herod and Pilate may have become enemies after the previous incident, but they “became friends with each other” over the crucifixion. And when Jesus went to his execution, the first person released by his death sentence was Barabbas, an insurrectionist.

And on what pretense was he executed? He warned them about the destruction not just of a water tower, but the Temple itself.

In other words, Jesus does not just speak rhetorically. He doesn’t dismiss the deaths of anyone — he becomes personally involved in the deaths of everyone.

In Lent and especially at Holy Week, Jesus reveals himself to be the great “I am” who comes to rescue us — the eternal God always and everywhere present, but also the God of you, me, my mom, her sister, her friend, and every single person we know.

He sees your fig tree, and knows exactly how barren it is. And he stands ready to give his very life to make it grow.

That is the greatest hope imaginable.

Image: Carl Rahl Parable of the Fig Tree Vienna Look and Learn

By Tom Hoopes