How many figs can a fig-plucker pluck when a fig-plucker would pluck figs?
Have you ever noticed that how we tell our stories is as important as the story itself? There are times when we tell our stories in chronological order, and then there are other times when we tell our stories in the order of importance. When we tell our story in the order of importance, we often start at a point where what we think important is about to happen and then discover that there is information from the past that needs to be included because the information from the past influences the way we understand our present.
When this happens, the storyteller perambulates through the time of present and past, and maybe projects the possibilities of pending predicaments if the present passage of postures and positions should be prolonged. This storytelling style can be pendulous and ponderous without positive direction until the end and requires patience. When the story’s point is near, it finally takes shape. Then those “But before that …” or reflections of “My papa’s papa always used to say …” all coalesce into predictable patterns of prescient possibility.
So it is, during these post-Holy Cross days in September, we have heard the prediction of Jesus’ crucifixion even while knowing that the humiliation of the cross is already passed. The deed is already done, and the consequence of the deed has revealed the resurrection promise of paradise possibility. So, this week, through Matthew 21:23-32, we enter a time of proleptic past Passion Week anticipating a perspective of past pregnancy and the birth of something new. We are now reminded of the presumptive protocols that have led to parallel paroxysms presaging a need for crucifixion and resurrection—forgiveness of sin.
During these post-Holy Cross days in September, we do not read of the great entry into Jerusalem; we do not read of Jesus entering the temple, clearing the Temple courtyard of money changers and the sellers of sacrificial animals. We do not see Jesus retiring to Bethany (house of sorrows), and then, returning in the morning for figs from the fig tree that bears only leaves and then cursing the fig tree which seems harsh unless one remembers that this tree, the variety known as the tree of knowledge of good and evil, previously has been held responsible for human sin. (Put that in your cookpot hat, Johnny Appleseed.)
We do not read that the thing that impedes our personal and public relationship with God and God’s people and what true life can be, presto! withers before our eyes. The fruit containing the knowledge of good and evil (a kind of wisdom), shifts our focus to the other tree in the garden, the tree of life, and we receive the fruit from the cross, “The body and blood of Christ, shed for you and all people”. The curse that comes to us through the fig tree is expunged by the true fruit on the cross/tree.
When Peter (not the disciple) was translating Hebrew (something that seems beyond me), I would help him with his translations by reading from the Septuagint, the Old Testament in Greek. Greek was my limit. When Peter got to translating the forbidden tree in the garden, he read tree, but in the Septuagint, the word was fig tree.
Ironically, or maybe not, the Greek word “psuche” (psoo-khay') that is oftentimes translated as “soul” (I prefer, “true life”) is pronounced almost the same as “suke” (soo-kay'), the Greek word for fig tree. The semblance of their pronunciation links the story of the fig tree to our eyes being opened to the pain of the world when Adam and Eve eat the fig from the tree containing the knowledge of good and evil. That eye-opening panorama causes the pious bliss of primal innocence to vanish, propelling humanity from the paradisical presence of God, the Garden of Eden.
But narratively speaking, before the “suke” (fig tree) can be left behind and a “psuche” (true life) can be revealed, Jesus curses the curse so that no one will eat of the curse again. Jesus curses the curse of being locked in the prison of history promoting the possibility of a pregnant new life future.
Following the work of curse cursing, Jesus goes into the temple courtyard and teaches. The priests and the elders come and question his authority. They ask, “By what authority are you doing these things and who gave you this authority?”
Jesus’ response is somewhat challenging because he responds with one of those loaded questions like, “Have you stopped punitively pounding on the prophet?” Jesus makes his answer conditional on the priests’ and elders’ answer to, “Did the baptism of John come from heaven or was it of human origin?”
In the world of “psuche/suke” separation, Jesus’ question presents problems, but in the world of the curse being cursed, the “psuche/suke” postulation presents the potential for full partnership again. The chasm between God and God’s people narrows, and paradise words of reconciliation are not far away. “Both,” might have been the better answer for the priests and the elders to offer, but they act out of fear and therefore claim ignorance.
In the same way, the parable of the man with two sons presents the problem of “which son did the will of his papa?” The people answer in the context of merit. After all, what is important is the work the children do. The first son does the work: he does the will of his papa, never mind his impertinence and disrespect. If the world of merit prevails, the second son is just out of luck. But, in the world of the curse being cursed, we can say that neither of the sons did the will of the papa. And yet, papa continues to love them both.
Just like you cannot un-ring a bell once it has been rung, humanity cannot un-eat the fig. Not even mice can do that. But God can choose to lift the ban against eating figs. God has the power to remove the tree and its fruit from being the divisive wedge it has become.
No wonder then, when living in the kingdom where the curse is being cursed, it is the tax collectors and the prostitutes who saw John coming in the way of righteousness and believed. They did not pause or peruse and pensively perambulate, they promenaded, prancing and dancing, their way right into the kingdom of heaven. In the new world of repentance and repaired relationship, the cursed find in the wilderness of righteousness collaborative companionship, sharing labor and bread of “psuche”, true life. (Have you noticed that true life begins with P?)
As we come to this text this week expecting fruit for the day, we too are caught up in the parallel paroxysms of Jesus’ authority in our lives. Do we wish to live in a world of wisdom, knowledge of good and evil, or will we take the fruit from the tree of life?
How many figs can a fig-plucker pluck when a fig-plucker would pluck figs?
None, if there are only leaves on the tree, and it is not the season for figs. Curses! Foiled again!
Your pal, Nicodemus
Editor, Theologian, Counsellor, and Mouse
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