Most of us are familiar with the term “freeloader”— someone who takes and takes, but never gives back. If you’ve ever gone to lunch with a freeloader, they’re the one who happens to forget their money. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells a story about this kind of life, but instead of a person, the freeloader is a fig tree. The tree takes from the soil, drawing nourishment but never producing fruit—no figs to return what it’s been given.
Jesus wasn’t concerned about the tree itself. His message was about people who take without giving. It troubled Him to see people doing wrong, but it troubled Him just as much to see people doing nothing, standing by without acting.
Consider the story of a taxi driver on a hot August afternoon. He responded to a call at a small house, expecting a quick fare. A young woman came out, helping an elderly lady. They lingered by the car, both crying as they said goodbye. The elderly woman got in the cab and gave him the address, asking, “Could you drive through downtown?”
“It’s not the quickest route,” the driver said, thinking he’d finish his shift soon. “I’m not in a hurry,” she replied. “I’m on my way to the hospice.” As they drove, she pointed out places from her past—where she once worked, where she had lived with her husband, the ballroom where she danced as a young girl. Sometimes, she simply asked him to stop and look at a building in silence.
After a while, she said, “I’m tired; let’s go now,” and they made their way to the hospice.
When they arrived, the driver helped her out, and as she asked, “How much do I owe you?” He surprised himself by saying, “Nothing.” She protested, “But you have to make a living.”
“There are other passengers,” he replied, and then, as he bent down, he kissed her on the cheek. She held onto him and said, “You gave an old woman a little moment of joy.”
Afterward, the driver sat in his car for a while, reflecting on what had just happened. He thought, “What if I had been angry and impatient? What if I had just honked and left? But I didn’t. I gave her a moment of joy.” He thought to himself, “I don’t think I’ve ever done anything more important in my life.”
As we enter Lent, remember that it’s not just about giving up things like cake or cocktails to get ready for summer. It’s about reaching out, doing the right thing, the good thing, the kind thing. Remember: At the start of Mass, we ask forgiveness not only for what we’ve done, but also for what we’ve failed to do.
Small actions can have a great impact. The driver’s act wasn’t heroic, but it mattered. Ask yourself: will you bear good fruit this Lent, or none at all?
And, remember the words of Mother Teresa: “Never forget that we belong to one another.”
I often think of “the other mention of a ‘fig tree'”, in the Bible, as that same “other mention” has occasioned a certain amount of “interior struggle”, within me, through the years.
So, the meditations of Fr. Bob Warren (RE: Luke 13:1-9) provided me with an opportunity to seek, again, to reconcile the fact that I consider myself to be a Christian with the fact that, in that “other mention of a ‘fig tree'”, the Gospel says that “it was not the time for figs”.
Is it possible, that Mark 11:12-25 (and, to a lesser extent, Matthew 21:18-22) can be “received” as evidence of the REASONABLE and RATIONAL nature of the Church’s invitation to the congregation of mortal human beings, that we participate, “with Christ”, in the Lenten observances, acknowledging our sins, dying with Christ, and arising, with Him, to renewal and sanctification while we yet walk the earth, before we, too, are received into Heaven?
Was Mark 11:25 the direct result of the fact that Mark 11:12-14 had ignited a lamp [i.e., “in the form of Mark 11:20-21”] whose light allowed Jesus of Nazareth to contemplate his own, mortal, human actions in a way that inspired the Christ to say, to His Disciples (and to all of us) the words of Mark 11:25?
Will the suggestion that the earthly ministry of Jesus of Nazareth might have included Jesus’ own “learning from experience [of His own actions which, upon His own self-reflection, He might have judged to be ‘things that might have been done better’]”?
Is there room, in “The Doctrine of the Faith”, for the idea that He was “fully human” to be understood to include the idea that, previous to the Crucifixion, He “actually made mistakes” (or, at least, “did things, while walking this human earth, that He, later, regretted [and urged His Disciples to avoid doing, themselves]”)?