Unless You Repent...

 

The Gardener, the Fig Tree, and the Urgency of Grace


Luke 13:1-9

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did¹. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they we²re more guilty than all other people who lived in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."

Then he told this parable: "A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, 'See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?' He replied, 'Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down³.'"

In the spiritual life, there is no trap more deadly than comparing ourselves to others. It is a dark comfort, a self-righteous poison that allows us to find peace not in God's mercy, but in the (real or imagined) greater sins of our neighbor.

Today, in the Holy Gospel of Luke, Our Lord Jesus Christ confronts this very poison head-on.

The scene is set with the whispering of current events. Some people in the crowd, eager for a theological sensation, tell Jesus about a horrific atrocity: Pontius Pilate had mercilessly slaughtered Galileans and mingled their blood with the very sacrifices they were offering. The implied question hangs heavy in the air: "Lord, what terrible sin did they commit to deserve such a divine punishment?"

They were looking for judgment. They were looking for a way to separate themselves—the "good" observers—from the "wicked" victims.

Our Lord’s reply is a thunder-clap that shatters their self-righteous mirror.

"Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."

He doesn't stop there. He brings up another local tragedy, an ancient "breaking news" alert: the 18 people killed when a tower in Siloam collapsed. Were they the most guilty people in Jerusalem?

"No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."

The Two-Fold Warning

Our Lord’s message is profound and deeply personal.

First, He commands us to stop looking outward at the sins of others and to look inward at the state of our own souls. He dismisses the idea that earthly calamity is a precise measure of guilt. The person who dies in a sudden, tragic accident is not necessarily more sinful than the one who dies peacefully in his bed. The true "perishing" Jesus warns of is not the inevitable death of the body, but the eternal death of the unrepentant soul.

Second, He uses these tragedies as a warning of urgency. Sudden death is a reminder to the living that our own time is short and uncertain. The victims' time for repentance was over. Ours is not. The vital question is not "Why them?" but "Why not me?"

To explain this, Jesus gives us one of the most sobering parables in all of Scripture: the Parable of the Barren Fig Tree.

The Vineyard of Justice and Mercy

A man, representing God the Father, has a fig tree planted in his vineyard. The vineyard is the world, and more specifically, His Holy Church. The fig tree is each one of us, planted in the blessed soil of faith, watered by the grace of Baptism, and warmed by the light of His Word.

The Owner of the vineyard comes seeking what is His by right: fruit. This is the fruit of holiness, of charity, of good works, of a life lived in conformity with His will.

But for three years—a period of complete and patient waiting, symbolic of Our Lord's own ministry—He finds none. The tree takes up the soil, the water, and the sun, but gives nothing back.

Here we see the voice of Divine Justice: "Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?"

This is a terrifying sentence. The unrepentant soul is not neutral; it cumbereth the ground. It occupies a space in the Church, receives the Sacraments, and hears the Word, yet bears no fruit, wasting the very graces that could have made another soul a saint.

But just as the axe of Justice is laid to the root, another voice speaks. It is the Gardener, the Vinedresser. This is Our Lord Jesus Christ, our great High Priest and Advocate.

"Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down."

This is the entire economy of salvation. We are now living in that "one more year"—the age of the Church, the time of Mercy. Christ Himself has interceded for us, pleading with the Father for more time.

But this is not a passive waiting. The Gardener promises to work.

"I will dig around it." This is the tilling of our hardened hearts, the painful work of penance, the trials He permits to break up our pride and worldly attachments.

"And put manure on it." As St. Augustine teaches, this "dunghill" is the profound humility of the Sacrament of Penance. It is the acknowledgement of our own filth, which, when brought to Christ, becomes the very fertilizer for future holiness. It is the application of the merits of His Passion, the prayers of the saints, and the grace of the Eucharist.

The Time is Now

This Gospel is a call to immediate action. We must not mistake God's patience for God's approval. His mercy is not a license to continue in our sin; it is a final, grace-filled opportunity to stop sinning.

The axe of Justice has been stayed by the Gardener's plea, but it has not been put away. The "one more year" will end. Our time for repentance is finite.

Let us, therefore, stop looking at the tragedies of the world and judging the victims. Let us look instead to the Gardener who pleads for us. Let us run to the Confessional, that He may "dig" around our hearts and apply the "manure" of His mercy. Let us receive Him in the Blessed Sacrament, the very sap of the True Vine.

Let us not be the tree that wastes the soil. Let us repent today, and at long last, bear the fruit of eternal life.