Figs
I’ve written before about how much I love the scene where Christ heals the man with the withered hand—it has the dramatic tension of an old Western. But another Gospel moment that has always caught my attention, and even made me chuckle, is when Jesus curses the fig tree.
“Seeing a fig tree by the road, he went over to it, but found nothing on it except leaves. And he said to it, ‘May no fruit ever come from you again.’ And immediately the fig tree withered.” (Matthew 21:19)
At first glance, this scene can seem almost puzzling, even humorous. As a layman, it might appear like Christ is frustrated—hungry, finds no figs, and takes it out on the tree! But, of course, there’s much more to this moment, and it holds a profound lesson for us.
It starts with this perhaps surprising thought: we are the fig tree.
The fig tree was “by the road,” accessible to travelers who might pluck its fruit for sustenance. Similarly, we live in the byways of this world, where we often give ourselves to worldly things—our time, energy, and talents are spent on everything and everyone else. The problem arises when the Lord comes to us, and there is no fruit left to offer Him. We’ve given it all away to lesser things, leaving no “first fruits” for God.
That’s lesson one: we must give God our first fruits. The Church calls us to this principle for a reason. Whether it’s dedicating the first hour of the day to prayer, offering the first portion of our income in gratitude, or prioritizing our relationship with God above all else, we are called to reserve our best—our “fruit”—for Him.
Lesson two comes from what Christ wasn’t expecting: apples or pears. He approached a fig tree looking for figs, and when it bore none, He cursed it—not because it wasn’t something extraordinary, but because it failed to produce the fruit it was created to bear.
So too with us. God doesn’t ask us to be something we are not. He calls us to bear the fruit of our unique vocation, to fulfill the duties, responsibilities, and opportunities of our state in life. Whether we are parents, priests, teachers, or workers in the world, we are called to bloom where we are planted and bear the fruit in accord with God’s plan for us.
The cursed fig tree reminds us of the seriousness of this call. When the Lord approaches, will He find fruit in our lives? Fruit that honors Him and reflects His love? Or will we, like the fig tree by the road, stand barren, having spent ourselves on things that do not last?
Let us strive to be faithful stewards, offering our first fruits to God and bearing the fruit He created us to bear.