In parabolam de ficu

Homily on the Parable of the Fig Tree. 1. An eye that sees either a flowering tree or a water-bearing spring is drawn by the very sight, and turns the mind of the heart there. Likewise, the hearer, through words of deeds and histories, directs his thought toward them, so that such a person is in body in this place, but in thought in that place where the account of the history turns the matter. Something of this sort has happened to me, beloved. For having heard the evangelist narrating the events that took place in Bethany concerning the fig tree, I am here in body, but I imagine myself to be there in thought; and I think I am now following the Master Jesus, and seeing the fig tree, before the Lord's command flourishing and luxuriant, but after the Lord's command gloomy and withered. For early in the morning, it says, as Jesus was returning to the city, he became hungry. And seeing a fig tree, he came to it, and found nothing on it but leaves only; and he says to it: "Let no fruit ever come from you again," and immediately it withered. For this was just read to us. The miracle astonishes me; my mind is divided. For when I wish to narrate the matter of the history, immediately the miracles along with the history draw me toward them. And just as when one sees a golden jar having within it precious stones bearing mysteries inscribed on themselves, he wishes to see the jar because of the brilliance of its form, but is drawn away by the stones within; for he hastens to examine the beauty of the stones as well, and to know the mysteries inscribed on it.

Likewise, when I see the bright and exceedingly beautiful narrative of the letter, I hold my mind there; but I am drawn back again by the contemplation of the spirit, which promises to show me wonders greater than the narrative. For early in the morning, it says, as Jesus was returning to the city, he became hungry. O ineffable and indescribable mystery! He who feeds the whole world became hungry; he who fed five thousand to satiety from five loaves became hungry; he who fashioned living eyes from clay became hungry; he who walked upon the waves of the sea without wetting his feet became hungry; he who by thought alone turned water into wine became hungry; he who drew souls out of their bodies and again lodged them in by a word became hungry. And how does Isaiah say, "The eternal God will not hunger nor grow weary"? But that Christ is God is clear to everyone who believes the Scripture which says, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." How then did God become hungry? The form of the servant became hungry; but the will of the Master within him fed the five thousand. The visible man came to the fig tree; but the divinity conceived in him was everywhere. As a man he saw the fig tree barren; as God he dried it up by a word. He said, "Let no fruit ever come from you again"; and the deed followed the word, and immediately the fig tree withered. The word was human, but the deed divine. But the contemplation concerning the fig tree is much disputed among us, beloved, having been interpreted by many, as it seems to me, not accurately.

Nevertheless, I will set forth for you the solutions of those who have preceded us, and I will present the labored achievements of our own. For the sense lying in the narrative of the letter is difficult to grasp, having the brilliance of the mystery hidden in great depth. For what necessity was there in the account for the fig tree to be dried up, and not to bear fruit by a word? For he who dried it up by a word could also have made it fruitful by a word. And what sin did the fig tree commit, someone might say, since it was not its season, Mark the Evangelist saying that it was winter at that time? And if there is not some mystery beyond human comprehension being accomplished in it, the Lord will be found praiseworthy in one respect and blameworthy in another: praiseworthy, indeed, because he dried it up by a word; blameworthy, because he unjustly cursed it. But from now on, beloved, we must understand what image the fig tree bore; for there was nothing done by Christ that did not have a mystery. There was absolutely no work done by him that was not exceedingly beneficial; nothing that did not proclaim the truth; nothing that did not move the mind toward the reception of heavenly things. This fig tree, most of the interpreters have said, is likened to the synagogue of the Jews, to which, it is said, the Lord came, seeking in it the fruit of faith; and he found none, except that it was flourishing only with the words of the prophets and the law, as if with leaves; therefore he dried it up, saying, "Let no fruit ever come from you again.

I, however, attempt to argue against this interpretation, beloved; for the precision of the meaning is not thus. For how would the Lord have cursed, saying, "Bless, and do not curse"? And how would he who says, "The Son of Man did not come to destroy, but to seek and to save the lost," have cursed the synagogue and dried it up? But if someone still argues and contends, saying that the fig tree is precisely likened to the synagogue of the Jews, let him say how the synagogue, dried up from the roots, sprouted such a fruitful branch, the most sweet Paul. And we know many others who converted from the synagogue of the Jews; for Stephen, stoned by the Jews, was from that synagogue, and Aquila and Priscilla and many others, whose list of names we now forgo stating due to the multitude of words. But that God did not utterly reject the people of the Jews, let Paul bear witness for me, saying: "Do I say then, Did the Lord utterly reject his people? Far from it; for I myself am an Israelite, from the seed of Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamin. The Lord did not reject his people." But indeed, he also promises salvation to that people in the last days, in saying: "When the fullness of the nations enters, then all Israel will be saved." For even if the Jews have become enemies of God, they have become so for our sake, so that by their disobedience we might be pitied, as Paul bears witness for me, saying: "According to the Gospel, enemies for our sake; according to election, beloved, on account of the fathers; for the gifts and the holy calling are irrevocable.

The account concerning the fig tree, therefore, beloved, must be investigated, as to what it bore as an image. But if you, Adam, remember, when you were stripped naked in paradise, what tree's leaves you took and, stitching them together, wove a covering for yourself, you will see how justly He dried it up. For did you not take fig leaves to cover your own shame? Christ came, then, and dried up by His word the fig tree still blooming in you, the covering of shame. He took away your poverty and gave you wealth; He took away the coverings of your shame and gave you a snow-white robe, woven from water and Spirit; He dried up the leaves of the fig tree and gave back to you the plunder of the soul. What plunder? That which the serpent plundered from you in paradise: the angelic life, the delight of paradise, the robe of incorruption. 2. But let us return to the main point. "For early in the morning," it says, "Jesus, returning to the city, became hungry." Early in the morning, after the night of error had passed, and the dawn—Christ—had shone the light of the resurrection upon the world; for dawn is

Christ, just as the prophet says: "We will find him ready as the morning." Jesus returning early. Early, after the dark-formed death was obliterated by the light of Christ's glory, and the golden rays of the sun of justice shone in the hearts of darkened men; early, after the warm rays of divinity spread out and warmed the souls deadened by the devil. For there is no one who will hide from his warmth. For the devil deadened the hearts of men with the coldest sin. Hence the prophet prays, saying: "Fire my kidneys and my heart." For all humanity was bound by the frost of impiety. Therefore all the prophets prayed unanimously to God, saying: "Turn back, Lord, our captivity, like winter torrents in the south wind"; that is, just as a warm south wind, blowing, brings frozen waters back to their former nature of water, so also does it renew us, who were deadened by the sin of the devil, to the ancient nature of incorruption, as a warm south wind blowing.

This warm breath of the south wind the Bride of Christ, the Church, invokes in the Song of Songs, saying: "Awake, north wind, and come forth, south wind; blow through my garden, and let the spices flow." "Early," he says, "returning." The word "returning" is good, to signify that our Lord, coming again to the same place, leads back Adam, who had fallen from paradise. Jesus, returning early to the city, was hungry. Now when you hear "city," do not look below, but look up to the heavenly Jerusalem, to the celestial place; for our citizenship is in the heavens. Jesus, returning early to the city, was hungry—not for the food of men, but for the life of men: "For it is my food to do the will of my Father; that they may believe in the one whom he sent." For he who believes in him, as he himself said, shall never die. Jesus, returning early to the city, was hungry, and seeing a fig tree, he came to it. For if he had passed by the fig tree, the serpent would have had his nest in the fig tree immortal; but he came to the fig tree and dried it up. The Lord saw Nathanael under such a fig tree: "Before Philip called you, I saw you under the fig tree." The prophet, foreseeing that this fig tree would become barren, said: "I will go up to the people of my sojourn, because the fig tree will not bear fruit." Zacchaeus climbed such a fig tree to see Jesus; to him he said: "Hurry, come down." There the serpent coils in curves, there it has nested, there it is hidden.

Make haste, come down." The evangelist elegantly said sycomore in the case of Zacchaeus, to signify that the broad and spacious road is intertwined with folly, from which the worst folly is born. The Lord came to the fig tree. This fig tree bore the image of the broad and spacious road; for the fig tree's leaf is broad, and sin is itchy, leading through the broad and spacious road to destruction. The fruit of the fig tree is very sweet; pleasure is sweet, casting those who approach it into the slippery slope of sin. Flee its taste, beloved; for it is sweet in taste, but bitter after the deed. For honey drips from the lips of a harlot woman, and for a time it greases the throat; later you will find it more bitter than gall, and sharper than a double-edged sword. Pleasure is a harlot, speaking sweetly to you at the start, secretly inserting in the conversation the bitterness of death. Such also was the serpent, sweet in speech, and bitter in deceit; sweet the morsel, bitter the fall. Flee therefore, beloved, the harlot, who speaks sweetly to you and inflicts bitter wounds; flee pleasure as Elijah fled Jezebel. So the Lord came from the heavens; he hungered for the life of men.

found the broad and spacious road of this life standing; he came upon it, and finds it luxuriant with leaves, that is, blooming with the doctrines of sin, but not yet having the fruit of death. Why? Because it was not the season; for the evangelist added this: It had no fruit, he says, for it was not the season. For how could it still bear the fruit of death, with Jesus present and proclaiming resurrection to the world? It was no longer the season for it to bear the fruit of death; for death reigned from Adam until Moses, that is, the law. For Scripture, he says, knows how to call the law Moses, as in the Gospel: They have Moses and the prophets. The Lord said to her, No further, and Let no fruit come from you for eternity; that is, Before my coming you bore the fruit of death; behold, I have arrived, this is the resurrection. With me present, let no fruit come from you for eternity. And immediately the fig tree withered; and what was written was fulfilled: Death was swallowed up in victory. Where is your sting, O death? Where is your victory, O Hades? For when the evangelist said that it was winter at that time when the fig tree was luxuriant with leaves, he intimated that sin was luxuriant, because the devil was a winter pressing upon all humanity. For before the coming of the peacemaker, the human race was shaken by various winds, driven toward idolatries, bloodshed, revelries, and lusts.

Then our Lord Jesus Christ, the peace of the world, came and calmed the reefs of the opposing spirits that were troubling the salt-bearing sea of the passions of this life, and quenched the foam-bearing waves of pleasures. And having dried up the fig tree, he planted the faith of the cross, which blooms and flashes life to all. The roots of this cross were placed in the earth, but its branches were stretched up to the heavens. Its leaves are ageless, its flower unfading, and its fruit immortal. David also mentions this tree, saying: "And it shall be like the tree planted by the outlets of the waters, which will give its fruit in its season, and its leaf will not fall off." Wisdom also mentions this tree, saying: "It is a tree of life to all who hold fast to it." Jeremiah, having seen this tree with a prophetic eye, and knowing that it was about to be hewn by the Jews against Christ, spoke to the face of the Jews, saying to them: "Come, let us put wood into his bread, and let us grind him out of the land of the living." The wood is the cross, the bread is the body of Christ. For the Lord, taking bread, said: "This is my body, which is broken for you for the remission of sins.

Upon this scaffold of the cross, our Lord Jesus Christ ascended, and stretching out his hands, he drove away the powers flying in the air, preparing for us an unimpeded journey to heaven, and extending for us a long ladder of faith from earth to heaven. And the marvel, if you will hear it, beloved, is that the tree of the cross stood, and upon it was spread the true vine, the one saying, "I am the true vine." And it became for the devil a deadly vine-trellis, but for us a life-giving vine-trellis, checking the burning heat of our sins and granting us the shade of rest. He who sits under its shade speaks the words of Solomon: "In its shade I desired and sat, and its fruit is sweet in my throat." In this shade, the blessed David, taking courage, said: "And in the shade of your wings I will hope." Until when? Until my lawlessness passes away. O what a wondrous thing and a new mystery! The spring lay upon the tree, and the cross was watered by it; for, pierced in his side by a spear, he sent forth blood and water: with the blood dyeing the cross purple, with the water watering its roots, so that it might ever put forth immortal fruits for those who believe.

O blessed tree, which kings honor and governors revere, which men and women and every nature and creation of men possess as a safeguard; which demons shudder at and the devil trembles; which angels hymn and the heavens bless; and Churches glorify Christ who was crucified upon it! To whom is the glory and the power, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.