The Withering of the Fig-Tree.
By H. W. Beecher
On the morrow, in the morning, when they were come from Bethany (which was two or three miles east of Jerusalem, just over the top of the hill—the Mount of Olives), as he returned into the city, he was hungry; and seeing a fig-tree afar off in the way, having leaves, he came, if haply he might find anything thereon; and when he came to it, he found nothing thereon but leaves only; for the time of figs was not yet. And Jesus answered and said unto it, Let no man eat fruit of thee, and let no fruit grow on thee henceforward forever. And his disciples heard it. And presently the fig-tree withered away. AND then He goes into Jerusalem, and spends a day in the temple, teaching; then returns to Bethany; and on the day following he goes back to Jerusalem again. And in the morning, as they passed by, they saw the fig-tree dried up from the roots. And when the disciples saw it, they marveled. And Peter, calling to remembrance, saith unto him, Master, behold the fig-tree which thou cursedst is withered away; and how soon is it withered away! This was an event which took place during very nearly the last part, in the last days, of the life of our Saviour. A great many have stumbled at this narrative, because it seemed so unreasonable that the Saviour should be angry at a tree for not bearing figs, when, as it is explicitly stated, the time was not yet for figs. It was out of season. And it has been alleged by skeptical writers as an instance of the fallibility of Christ. It has been said that he was subject to human infirmities, and that he lost his temper, as other men lose theirs, and therefore cursed the fig-tree. Now the term to curse in our use almost always conveys the sense of passion; but in the old and official sense, to curse was to condemn, simply. In this narrative, the word is not used, except by Peter; and he unquestionably speaks, not of Christ's cursing in any sense as to show passion, or irritation, or vindictiveness, but simply in the sense of his condemning the tree. Whatever was condemned, was cursed, according to Peter's use of the word translated curse. Then, as to his condemning the tree, it was not a judicial sentence. We are not to suppose that our Saviour summoned the tree into judgment, and argued upon it as if it were a moral being under condemnation, or under penalty. No; the whole plot and plan of the ancient mode of teaching forbids this interpretation of it. It is but an acted parable. And this is an important thought, because in many instances in Christ's life the same mode of teaching was resorted to. For example, when he cleansed the temple, undoubtedly the whole act was a parabolic act. He drove out the cattle; he overturned the money-changers' tables; he commanded those that had doves to take them thence. And the whole was not a mere formal attempt at the reformation of the administration of the temple, but a series of acts which indicated the purification of religion—the change that was going on. And as usual, it was a kind of parabolic action, as a parable is a picture in words, conveying a moral lesson—not a truth narrated, but simply an artificial picture drawn for the sake of certain moral results which were to flow from it. So, certain of Christ's actions were dramatic. They were, as it were, a momentary drama, enacted for the sake of the truth that they would convey. The most impressive one of all these is the transfiguration, in which, with Peter, James, and John, he went to the mountain, where, while he was praying, they fell asleep. When they awoke, they saw two angelic, two celestial personages, standing and talking with him. And his countenance was changed. Then they communed with him concerning his coming death. The whole was to those disciples a picture of the event. It was not so much a prophetic representation to interpret it to them, as a pictorial representation to fortify their minds, so that when their earthly hopes which were centered in him should be dashed, they would be bold, and maintain faith in him. It was a kind of enacted celestial parable, or picture, or tableau. So here, when going in the morning to Jerusalem, Jesus saw the fig-tree, and observed that it was in full leaf. Evidently it was a prematurely early one. And why should he go to see if there were figs upon it? Because sometimes a tree bore winter figs, which became ripe in early spring; and perhaps he might have expected that there would be some on that one which he might glean. But when he came to it, and found that there were no figs, but leaves only, he said, “Let no fruit grow on thee henceforward forever, and let no man eat fruit of thee.” That this was said in a very impressive manner, is evident by the fact that when, the day after, the disciples returned that way, they remembered the occurrence, and called his attention to the tree. Doubtless he designed that this should be a very solemn instruction to them. But what was the instruction? They were every day going backward and forward, to and from Jerusalem. There he went into the sacred precinct, or into that part of it which was Herod's great porch—the Basilica, as it was called. There he used to teach the people. All around about him were the insignia of Jewish worship. And his very business was to expose the superficialities of life in these things. He was, from day to day, attempting to carry men back to the reality of a religious life; to a deeper moral tone; to a more earnest conscientiousness. It was his business to reprehend the self-conceit and moral complacency which passed itself off upon mere superficial observers. And here was an opportunity. Here happened to be, of all the trees that stood in the road on that early spring day, one that had come into full leaf. But when he went up to it, he found no fruit on it, but leaves only—nothing but leaves. It was just exactly like those over the other side. All of them were full of leaves; but not one of them—neither priest, nor scribe, nor Pharisee, nor Sadducee—bore any fruit. All of them were clothed with leaves; but none of them were fruitful. Here was a symbol. Here was an opportunity of illustrating a fact by a parabolic action. By destroying that tree with a word, he could impress upon his disciples that which would be a benefit to them in their teaching of men forever after. And he did it. This, then, is the explanation; and the application is not far to find. If our Saviour were himself here, and could make the application, going from one of us to another, how many he would find that had a sound trunk and branches (which may be considered as the secular establishment of a man's life); how many he would find that had morality,—ordinary, society morality (which may be considered as the leaves); but how few would he find that had fruit (which may be considered as the special spiritual development of a man's life)! How many there are who stand on good ground; who are grown to large stature, and who bring forth decencies, and proprieties, and regularities, and moralities, according to the ordinary acceptation of that term; who are faithful in their industry, faithful in their ordinary social callings, faithful in their neighborhood duties; but who lack the higher Christian graces! All these lower elements are estimable; but they are only leaves—nothing more. And yet many persons of this stamp profess to be Christians. Many of them are the heads of families, and are attempting to lead their children in Christian ways. And yet, though there are abundant leaves upon their branches, on how many of them would Christ, if he were here, be able to see fruit—real prayer, which is the communion of a man's spirit with God's spirit; real fervor of love to God; real sympathy, disinterested and continuous, with men; real kindness and benevolence shown to those around about them; real self-denial, for their own sake, and for the sake of other people; real patience and gentleness under provocation; real meekness and humility? On how many of us would Christ find these genuine fruits of love? And yet, if he did not, would he not have occasion to say of us, “I found leaves only.” He would find very much that was valuable; but he would find that it stopped short of that very thing which is the test and the peculiar value of every truth—its quantity and quality of fruit. Of a great many it may be said, just as Christ said of this fig-tree, “afar off in the way” (that is, in the thoroughfare, standing out from the gardens, unprotected), on which, when he came to it, he found nothing but leaves only. Christian brethren, a leaf-bearing Christian, who bears nothing but leaves, is in a very dangerous situation. This acted parable, this solemn symbolic warning of Christ, should go to the heart of every one who outwardly is alive, but inwardly is dead; who is maintaining respectability, who is maintaining an ordinary good report, but whose conscience bears witness that there is nothing of him beyond the leaves—no real distinguishing, special, Christian life.—H. W. Beecher.