My Little Fig Tree

" Jesus told this parable: ' A man had a fig tree, planted in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it, but he did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ' For three years now, I have been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree, and I haven't found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?'  'Sir,' the man replied, ' leave it alone for one more year, and I will till it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.'  " [ Luke 13: 6-9].

I love this symbol of the little fig tree. It is an image I can meditate upon. It is a metaphor for the eternal promise of spring, of Jesus' Resurrection. It is a symbol of God's patience with us because, just as the gardener in this parable gives the fig tree more time in which to thrive, so also God gives us time to cultivate our own Faith in Him.

Like the fig tree, our Faith goes through times of drought and times of fruitful bounty. We can cherish our Faith, but at times, also despair of our faith. Faith does not grow in a linear fashion. There are generous harvest times, but just as often, times when our faith is in danger of dying.

My own faith life has been a roller coaster.

I was not baptized until I was about three. Although I was a bit older, this was a time that my faith was validated, even as a tiny child.

I was confirmed and made my First Communion when I was thirteen. I still remember that special day. I could almost believe that God saw me and acknowledged me.

Almost immediately thereafter, my family stopped taking me to church. Thus began my long time of drought. They told me, "We do not go to church." At that tender age, I thought maybe it was wrong to believe in God.

When I was in college, I told myself, 'Life is good, why do I need God?'

After university, I was exhausted, learning new skills in my first job, saving for my first apartment. I thought I was too tired for God.

Then, I met my husband. He went to Mass each Sunday, even after working hard all week. I would go along, but I was totally lost in the Order of Mass.  I thought I was too confused to seek God.

We traveled a long, despairing road before we were able to become parents. I thought that I was losing my Faith in God.

Many years later, my world fell apart. In rapid succession, I lost my father, and my best friend. It fell to me to take my mother in, the mother who had mocked me, who had rejected me and abandoned me, even at my worst hour.

I sold my parent's home, my childhood home. I settled my father's affairs. During these times, I did not know what I even believed in any longer. I did not know up from down. I sometimes did not know what day it was.

I was overwhelmed. I developed the oddest feeling that I absolutely, finally had to become closer to God. I could not go on like this alone, with my world so upside down and backwards. I felt as if I were twisting in the wind. I thought, if I fell, I did not want to fall alone.

The time had come to cease sitting on the sidelines when it came to my Faith. I met with the pastor at the church. I thought he could offer some words that would help me find my equilibrium again. I found myself blurting out that I wanted to convert.

My conversion was painstaking and painful. I was a "baby Christian." the Holy Trinity confused me;  questions about why, how God could ever love me scared me; the story of Jesus washing His disciples' feet amazed me.

Finally, I received the Eucharist again!! God had waited a very long time for me. He had waited for me almost my entire life. I felt triumphant. It had been a long drought, yet I was finally going to bear some fruit.

But my mother's constant, harsh blasphemy against Catholics was wearing me down. Then, another wave of abuse scandals broke in the Church. I was devastated.

I thought that priests could not, would not sin. I thought, in their special prayers, that priests had a hotline to God. And-- I thought that parents were supposed to love their children, not abuse them.

In truth, priests and parents are human. And heartbreakingly, they do sin. Even against us.

Just as I was becoming bold enough to seek God, I ended up wanting to bolt. I decided to stop receiving Communion. Then, I figured, if I am not going to receive the Eucharist, why would I go to Mass at all?

What had I even accomplished in my conversion? I had just worked extremely hard in my conversion, only to succeed in running from the arms of my abusive family, straight into the arms of a Church rife with abuse. I had hoped that conversion would offer the healing that I so desperately needed. Instead, my conversion hurt, it hurt so terribly much!

I called my pastor and I told him, " I cannot do this any longer!" The abuse scandals had tainted my conversion.  My mother's blasphemy felt too much like vicious persecution. It all came at a time when I was such a tentative Christian to begin with.

But the next Sunday came, and my husband insisted that I come to Mass with him and our son. He told me that I had no choice. It would set a bad example for our son.

I went to church, but I decided that I did not have to listen. Then, the Homily came. The pastor spoke about seeking Jesus. He asked,' Do you turn away from Jesus? And why? Because you are angry with God? Because your parents disappointed you? Because you did not get everything you wanted in life? Because someone hurt you deeply and you want to run away?' Ouch! That was sharp, but I needed to hear that!

The pastor went on, ' Well, Jesus wants desperately to be your friend. He almost pleads with us. In John 15: 15, Jesus says, ' I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends. . . I no longer call you servants, I call you friends. You did not choose me, but I chose you. I appointed you to go and bear fruit-- fruit that will be everlasting.'

Suddenly, I realized that, even as I had finally begun to cultivate my own little fig tree-- that is, my Faith-- I wanted to give up and cut it down. And why? Because of the sins of others?! 

Of all our impulses, the impulse to destroy our own Faith will surely never cure the sins of others.

Believe me, I have tried to "confess" the sins of others against me, to confess their sins FOR them. I can tell you, it does not work! All that I am left with, in this process, is my own sinking sense of despair at the grave sins of the world.

I have also tried to run away from my Faith, because of all the sins of the world. But no matter how we dither, or how we despair or try to hide, God waits for us. He insistently, persistently calls our name. He waits until that time of Spring in our life, when we are ready to cultivate His Fruits.

My only Salvation will be, must be, to nurture my own Faith. No matter how others in this world sin -- or maybe in defiance of how others sin-- I will cultivate my own little fig tree. Then I will grow a flourishing little fig tree, and my Faith will bear much fruit.

[Related Posting: "The Fig Tree", Nov. 18, 2012.]

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