The story is told of a man in Easter Liverpool, Ohio, whose oil well caught fire. It was one of those uncontrollable fires and the man offered a $3000 reward to whomever could put it out. Well, all the fire departments from the surrounding cities and villages came and tried, but the fire was so intense that no one could get near enough to begin to work on it. Then a volunteer fire department from the village of Calcutta arrived on the scene. They had one fire truck, one ladder, three buckets of sand, two buckets of water and one blanket. They came wheeling into the oil field and, to everyone’s surprise (they didn’t stop at some distance from the raging fire; boldly and bravely, risking the fires of hell), they rolled right up to the blaze; in fact, almost into the blaze. They jumped out, climbed their ladder, threw on their buckets of water and sand and their blanket, and put the fire out. The owner asked them how they would spend their $3000 and they said, “First of all, we’re going to put new brakes on our truck.” [1]
I tell the story to make a point, and to introduce our discussion of the parable of the barren fig tree. “Things are not always what they seem.” This parable is clearly a parable of judgment. But it is also a parable of grace.
The parable is introduced by a question about sin and its consequences. Let me make a dogmatic statement to lodge the truth Jesus taught clearly in your mind: “All affliction is not due to wrong doing, but all wrong doing brings affliction.” [2]
The word of Jesus, and the dominant note of the parable is “Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.”
It helps us to get the context of the parable. In Jesus’ day in the Holy Land, Roman legions were a sore provocation to the Jews. On many occasions the yoke of Roman control would chafe so painfully that it would become unbearable. Though they knew it was hopeless, they could stand the burden no longer, and they would hurl themselves against the mighty foe of wrong. Those who were speaking to Jesus recorded such an incident. Galileans had stored out against the forces of wrong and their blood was mingled with their sacrifices. Those who rebelled were attacked by Roman soldiers in the midst of their religious rights, and human blood and animal blood flowed in one stream.
“The reporters of the outrage apparently hoped to receive from Jesus an endorsement of their conviction that the victims had induced this violent death by their sins. It was a current doctrine that misfortune was the nemesis of transgression…the theory is inviting—at least to those spared by adversity, for it exempts them from the pain of sympathy and reckons them among the virtuous. No form of self-complacency is more noxious. Jesus meets it with a ruthless truth: “Think ye these Galileans were sinners above all the Galileans? I tell you Nay: But except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.” [3]
Now Jesus is not denying the fact that wrong-doing has tangible consequences. He’s very clear that sin does have consequences, and that’s what he’s stating in that graphic word, “Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.” What he is doing is clarifying for all of history a very important truth: Calamity is not necessarily the result of sin. You remember on one occasion, someone asked him if a man’s blindness was due to his sin or the sin of his parents, and Jesus responded categorically: “Neither did this man sin or his parents.”
Jesus was certain that the rains fell on the just as well as on the unjust. He taught us that the best among us does not escape suffering and misfortune.
So, having clarified the theory of suffering being the direct result of sin, Jesus tells his parable to underscore the fact that judgment is certain.
It’s a very simple story. A fellow had a fig tree planted in his vineyard. At the bareing season he came to get some figs from his tree, but he found none. He found the keeper of the vineyard and he said to him, “This tree is no good. I’ve given it three years—every year for three years, I’ve come seeking fruit but have found none. I’m tired of it, cut it down, it’s not worth the space that it occupies; in fact, it’s detracting from the vineyard. It’s robbing the other plants of nutrients and the setting to make them healthy.”
There are two ways to look at the parable—both having significant relevance.
I.
The first is to see this parable as referring to the Jewish nation and its fate. Clearly, Jesus had this in mind. “(Israel) had prospered on a sunny hillside of God’s favor, not indeed in worldly bounty or in political dominion, but in the richer blessing of prophetic guidance. What other nation had been blessed by so noble a succession of lighted souls? Abraham, Moses, David, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos, Hosea, John the Baptist—and Jesus! No land, great or small, in ancient or modern times, can match that galaxy of inspired leadership. Their insight is still the chart and compass of our voyaging world. But this intensive privilege had produced no good result in character. Nor was Israel’s barrenness the end of her mischief. (Had God not given all of his attention to Israel, and chosen Israel and given her that ultimate privilege, He might have bestowed that privilege upon some other nation—He might have chosen another nation to fulfill his purpose.) Israel had nullified the soil of earth. Year after year she had impeded high achievement.” [4]
What lessons are here for us? Is there a nation on the face of the earth more blessed than we? The natural blessings that God has bestowed upon us are beyond number. Yet we have 20 million people in this nation living in poverty. We have a drug culture that could lead to our ultimate demise. Racism still eats away at the soul of our community. The sword of Damacles hangs over our head in the form of a raging national insecurity that keeps us in an arms race that can only lead us to destruction.
How long is the Lord going to abide our sinfulness? How long is He going to abide our cynical, self-serving pride? How long is He going to suffer our waywardness, our turning away from Him? Might He look down upon this nation that obviously He has blessed in exceptional ways and ask, “Where is the fruit of the tree that would be pleasing to me?” When might He chop the tree down and lead us to our own destructive destiny?
But not only the nation, what lessons are here for the Church? The Methodist Church became the “most American” of all churches, following the people wherever they went, making sure that the Gospel was heard, and that the word of the righteous God was always present. There has been a time in America when we had more local churches than there were post offices.
But where is the church now?
It’s interesting that Bishop Wilke used the figure of the barren fig tree in his book on the state of the United Methodist Church, “And Are We Yet Alive?” The first chapter of that book is aptly titled, “Sick Unto Death,” where he describes our “dying church.” Wilke puts our wallowing in the doldrums “sick unto death” in the context of the fact that we are in “a great awakening in America. More interest is being expressed in religion than there has been in a hundred years. The secular media, seemingly surprised, asks questions about religion. Television and newspapers report what the churches are doing, because people want to know. The hunger for spiritual sustenance is everywhere. People pore over the Scriptures. The spiritual vacuum in the land is demanding to be filled. Sin-sick souls, suffering souls, struggling souls are crying out for help. But our church is not responding as it ought.”
Then he closes the first chapter by quoting the parable of the barren fig tree, concluding, “God may not have need of the vine called United Methodism in America. He can raise up other groups. Christ will sustain his church and all the gates of hell will not prevail against it. But he can lop off branches that bear no fruit; he can cut down our vine if it fails to produce.” [5]
That’s one way of looking at the parable—seeing it as a call to judgment as it relates to the nation—and a call to judgment as it relates to the church.
II.
But there’s another way of looking at it, a more personal way. That perspective also provides challenge. From that focus—the person—underscore these truths.
One, unfruitfulness is not allowed in God’s vineyard. Now that’s the most obvious truth in the parable, so there is no way to diminish the judgment sounded by Christ, “Cut it down.”
Remember that old poem in the vernacular:
There are a number of us who creep
into the world to eat and sleep
and know no reason why we are born
Save only to consume the corn,
Devour the cattle, flesh and fish
and leave behind an empty dish.
That kind of unfruitfulness is not allowed in God’s vineyard.
Flannery O’Connor puts it in a graphic way. She asks the question, “Have you ever looked inside yourself and see what you are not.” Think about that.
What we are not that we should be is what will bring judgment upon us.
Now a second focus of truth. What does it mean to be fruitful as Christians in the vineyard of God? At least this:
One, that because of you, the milk of human kindness is readily available to someone.
A while ago, I had two or three counseling appointments with a member of a congregation—a relatively new member. This man had fought for a lifetime feelings of worthlessness, guilt, self-depreciation, and failure. He said a surprising thing to me. “For a long time, I have believed in God, but since becoming a part of this congregation, I’ve come to believe in myself.”
How did that happen? It happened because people within the church paid attention to him; they simply shared with him the milk of human kindness which caused him to know that he was worth something. So, that’s the first thing that fruitfulness in God’s vineyard means.
A second thing that it means to be fruitful as Christians in the vineyard of God is that because of you the Spirit of Christ is daily set loose in the world; because of you, persons sense Christ’s presence. It means that because of you some person will know that there is a Way, a Truth and a Life that can give them meaning in this life and secure them for eternal life.
III.
We’ve looked at what this parable means as it relates to the nation and the church. We’ve focused in on what it means to us personally. I want to close by going back to the suggestion made in the introduction, that things are not always exactly as they appear. This is obviously a parable of judgment. “Cut it down” is met with the plea of the vineyard keeper in verse 8:
“Let it alone, Sir, this year, also, til I dig about it and put on manure. And if it bears fruit next year, well and good…”
The worthless tree has its intercessor, and more than a hint of God’s grace is here. To be sure there is a law of uselessness that induces death, but there is another law, maybe a deeper law in the economy of God. The law of pitying grace. Remember how Abraham nobly interceded for Sodom, and how Moses offered his own life with strong tears and utter self devotion for an idolatrous people, and to be sure, we remember Jesus himself even hanging on the cross. Even while He spoke this stern warning, he was readying himself to carry his cross, and by his righteous death, to act as the great high priest who pleads the cause for unrighteous people. The note of judgment is at times a final note—but even as that note is sounded boldly, there is that ongoing heart-touching theme of the Gospel—the theme of Grace.
Kenyon Scudder, the distinguished penologist, told the following story:
“A friend of his was riding one day on a train, and seated next to him was an obviously troubled and anxious young man. Finally the boy blurted out that he was a convict returning from prison. His crime had brought shame on his poor but proud family, and while they had written to him, he had refused to see them, so ashamed for what he had done.
He went on to explain that he wanted to make it easy for his family. Therefore, he had written them to put up a signal when the train passed their little farm on the outskirts of town. If they wanted him to return home, they were to tie a white ribbon in the apple tree near the tracks. If they did not want him back, they were to do nothing and he would stay on the train, go West and lose himself forever.
Nearing his hometown, the youth’s suspense and discomfort grew to where he could not look. Scudder’s friend offered to watch and the two exchanged places by the train window. A few minutes later, the friend laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder, who had closed his eyes and bowed his head. The friend whispered in a broken voice, “It’s all right! The whole tree is white with ribbons!” [6]
“Unless you repent,” Jesus said, “You will all likewise perish.” That’s the resounding note of judgment—but the plea comes, “Give it another year.” The plea of Grace, and for sure, because Christ is all grace, grace will be his response…IF we repent and seek that second chance.
1. Story from Don Shelby’s sermon “Breakthroughs: I’s, Eyes and Ayes”, March 23, 1986
2. George A. Buttrick, The Parables of Jesus, New York: Harper & Brothers, 1928, p. 107
3. Buttrick, Ibid., pp. 105-106
4. Buttrick, Ibid. p.108
5. Wilke, Ibid., p.27-28
6. Don Shelby, “Breakthroughs: All the Way Home,” March 9, 1986
