Christian Art | Parables Of Jesus | King James Audio Bible | Parable Of The Barren Fig Tree
Luke 13: 1-9 | King James Audio Bible KJV | Parables Of Jesus | Daily Bible Verses 29 Saturday & Sunday Lent 3
1 THERE were present at that season some that told him of the Galilæans, whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.
2 And Jesus answering said unto them, Suppose ye that these Galilæans were sinners above all the Galilæans, because they suffered such things?
3 I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.
4 Or those eighteen, upon whom the tower in Siloam fell, and slew them, think ye that they were sinners above all men that dwelt in Jerusalem?
5 I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.
6 ¶ He spake also this parable; A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came and sought fruit thereon, and found none.
7 Then said he unto the dresser of his vineyard, Behold, these three years I come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and find none: cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground?
8 And he answering said unto him, Lord, let it alone this year also, till I shall dig about it, and dung it:
9 And if it bear fruit, well: and if not, then after that thou shalt cut it down.
The Galileans Herod has had killed have not behaved any better or worse than other people; they were not worse sinners than whose to whom Jesus addresses his words. God does not always punish sinners in this life. Accidents and acts of brutality may constitute no particular moral judgement. We are sinners. We stand in need of God’s mercy. We must repent.
Through these sayings Jesus calls the people to conversion of heart. They have heard of and perhaps witnessed others’ suffering and death. They must know that those people were not much different from themselves. It could just as easily have been them. Jesus extends this thought into a warning: the people will indeed suffer should they fail to repent, should they not look to themselves, in the light of their own mortality, and realise they have great need of God’s mercy. This knowledge is a part of what it means to be true to ourselves, rather than to live in denial of God, to live a lie.
God is merciful. The parable of the barren fig tree illustrates this. When the owner of the vineyard decides to have the unfruitful fig tree chopped down, the vinedresser intercedes, promising to nurture the fig tree to help it be fruitful. So Christ intercedes for us, and so he came to teach us, to call us to follow him.
Through Christ, we have every encouragement and every resource to enable us to be truly fruitful. Christ, indeed, becomes our spiritual nourishment. It is our duty and our joy to respond energetically, and with great generosity of spirit. Our lives are not meant by God to be sterile. We are asked to respond to God’s grace.
‘He tells us that, without Holy baptism, no one will enter the Kingdom of heaven; and, elsewhere, that if we do not repent we will all perish. This is all easily understood. Ever since man sinned, all his senses rebel against reason; therefore, if we want the flesh to be controlled by the spirit and by reason, it must be mortified; if we do not want the body to be at war with the soul, it and all our senses need to be chastened; if we desire to go to God, the soul with all its faculties needs to be mortified.’ (St John Mary Vianney, Ash Wednesday.)
King James Audio Bible | Endnotes
The Parable of the Barren Fig Tree, as told in Luke 13:1-9, is a powerful teaching from Jesus about the importance of bearing fruit in our lives and the consequences of not doing so. This as with all parables is a parable of the Kingdom of God. The imagery of the vineyard and the fig tree is rich in meaning, conveying the message that God expects fruitfulness from those who claim to follow Him.
In the parable, the fig tree is described as barren, meaning it has no fruit. In a figurative sense, this represents a life that is lacking in good works and productivity. Just as a tree that bears no fruit is of no use to the farmer, a person who fails to live a productive and meaningful life is of no use to God.
The relationship between faith and good works is a central theme in the parable. It is not enough to simply have faith in God; our faith must be expressed through good works and spiritually accomplished actions. This is why the owner of the vineyard gives the fig tree one more chance to produce fruit. He is showing mercy and giving the tree the opportunity to prove its worth, but if it continues to be barren, it will be cut down and cast aside.
The reality of judgment is another important aspect of the parable. Just as the fig tree will be judged and either preserved or destroyed, so too will all people be judged by God. This is a sobering reminder of the ultimate accountability we will face for the choices we make in this life. The concepts of heaven and hell are present this theme, destinations for the souls of the righteous and the wicked respectively.
As we explore through the parables of Jesus relationship with God, an understanding of the meaning of parables is that within the context of engagement with the parables we are present with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane – toward crucifixion of Jesus and hence redemption.
Saint Pacian, Bishop of Barcelona in the fourth century, presents baptism as the decisive passage from the old humanity of Adam to the new life in Jesus Christ. Drawing from Romans 5:12–21 and 1 Corinthians 15:45, he sets up a parallel: through Adam’s disobedience, sin and death entered the human race; through Christ’s obedience, grace and eternal life are offered to all. Pacian insists that just as Adam’s descendants inherit his fallen condition by birth, so believers receive Christ’s life by a different kind of descent—not physical but spiritual [ … ]
The Carrefour will be open, where I can buy nuts for the red squirrel, who lives in Campo Grande. The red squirrel is Valladolid’s best bit. Even as a child, I had never seen one before, apart from in picture books. It was last term’s discovery. The most beautiful encounter. I didn’t know it was there – in the park. A complete surprise. The tiny little thing bobbled and hopped, as it received in its little hands a nut from the man’s hands. Each surprising instant – it was childlike. I whispered: ‘Oh my wow.’ I walk toward the El Cortes Ingles. There is, for now, that settled feel of friends in bookshops. Though a null-affect, neutral day – it won’t glean, it is not to be scratched at. The queues are long in the Carrefour. Though, as it might be, on relatively modest incomes, many people live centrally. Their behaviours neither pinched nor stark. Yet the shop so busy while the street so empty… An error in the simulation, a glitch in the code. I potter about the aisles, which are pleasant enough, then at the tills I flinch at how expensive a little bag of up-sold nuts can be. Nonetheless, I queue for a packet of almonds. Two English men queue directly ahead of me. They are stocky, and have gay voices, their wheelie-bucket piled with soft drinks and party food, while they bitch to one another about the obviously terrible party they’re going to. The air heaves relief as I wander up the way to the broad plaza fringing Campo Grande. This is a place to see – a piece of Spain. There is a tourist information office, though unopened. At these fountains, three girls take selfies. Pompous-looking buildings, the military offices aside, line the park’s nearest vicinities. Hotel-bars have their patches. Liveried doormen idle time, for there are no paying customers, in and out the doorways’ shadows. A mixed group of kids play at the hoops on the pedestrian boulevard, and two boys practise on skateboards, working the thing out. I pass by them, touched by the thought, and happy that they are there. Wistful, I smile at the odds of the ball spilling over to me, and play in mind the agreeable scene of a fleeting connection. Then I am through the park gates. An air now – of humanity become self-selecting. Modestly understated. Understatedly modest. Campo Grande is nice but it isn’t grande… I walk slowly, and very soon hear for a second time English voices. Not them – it is an English family, just a little way ahead, a Dad and a Mum and a younger boy and an older girl, and theirs are Midlands accents. Dad seems to have been here and to know the place. He gestures panoramically. Mum wants her lunch. The girl at a difficult age. She carries a balloon-on-a-stick. Though she is sprouting – yet wears a loud dress. Then leggings, trainers. Her hair is nice… Maybe she is being okay about it. And not horrific. It’s okay once they get into it, but those months… Yet then, they mostly blossom, if they come from a good home, and become rounded personalities, entering into their womanhood. It was that… when yet they weren’t… I shudder to think of it. They walk toward the pond, and I trail, and would follow had I not been going that way. I wish I could say something so they might hear I am English too. (Fake a phone call?) How my voice might sound – there’d be all college hurling around in such matter I… a demented thing, ludicrous blurt – of Henry, Geoff, and all of them – not to mention the personal predicament. Maybe they’re a nice family. She is letting him explain what he needs to explain. And it would blow his fire, me being English. Mum and Dad. You’d probably see them all having their lunch in a little while. All sat round the table. With napkins and the menus out. Dad looks safe. I look into the pond. Terrapins live in there. But not today. I walk toward the join in the paths where the squirrel lives. There, I crumple the packet of almonds, making noise. I peer and I squat and crouch – chewing a mouthful. All the peacocks have perched right up in the trees’ branches. That never looks like something they should be doing. It’s disappointing that the squirrel isn’t here – but then the not-knowing-if is a part of it. Now, next, my visit to the National Sculpture Museum is an obligation. Canon Peter stood literally aghast when I hadn’t heard of it. Mortified, I made resolute promises. Though a few weeks have passed, it isn’t just any old something I could do on the hoof. A great commitment – it must command a known and prepared and anticipated not-just-any-old-time. But, rather, the sort you must wait for – and listen for. [ … ] Beyond Plaza Mayor, there would be a brief series of old-town alleyways. The National Sculpture Museum would be – just up there, this archway, this next…They are bleached and forgotten-looking walls, and the smoothed paving could be medieval. Not that it is making Tomàs anxious – I follow the map. A kind of place – uneasy credit-cards, and modern vaccinations, and a phone, might not help much. I fancy I feel the back-wall of a church, and that – fancifully – pressure-release drawn out of me. Only I am playing games in a nice way – making play-scared on the uncertainty – with only myself to see. The National Museum is there, modestly signed on stencilled plexiglass stuck to the stone wall. A uniformed lady sits just a little way inside the doorway. She reassures me there is no money required, and directs me over the courtyard into the planned route, showing me where I can pick up a free map. I get my […]
The poem explores themes of worship, reverence, and obedience to divine authority. The poem religious tensions of the Reformation era. It expresses Herbert’s struggle with the practice of venerating saints and Mary, this with an unwavering commitment to Christ’s commands. Herbert knows truth, and yet refrains from seeking angels’ and saints’ intercession, with the thought that all worship belongs solely to God [ … ]
