The Fig Tree and the Invitation to Bear Fruit

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is approached with grim news: Galileans whose blood was mingled with their sacrifices by Pilate, and eighteen people who died when the tower in Siloam fell. It's the kind of news that stirs our desire to make sense of tragedy—was it punishment? Were they worse sinners?

But Jesus swiftly shifts the lens.

“Do you think they were more guilty than everyone else? By no means! But unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”

It’s a sobering reminder that repentance is not about measuring the severity of our sins against others’, but recognizing the urgency to turn our hearts back to God. Jesus refuses to engage in blame or speculation. Instead, He lovingly invites us into reflection—into the work of transformation.

And then He tells a parable.

A fig tree, planted in a vineyard, has not borne fruit for three years. The owner is ready to cut it down. "Why should it exhaust the soil?" But the gardener intercedes: "Leave it for one more year. I’ll dig around it. I’ll fertilize it. Let’s give it another chance."

This gardener’s voice is the voice of Jesus—pleading not for judgment, but for mercy. Intervening with compassion. Still believing in the potential of the tree. Still believing in us.

The fig tree, as our pastor reminds us, is deeply symbolic. In the Old Testament, it often represented Israel—God’s chosen people. It symbolized spiritual fruitfulness or barrenness, divine blessing or impending judgment. Its fruitfulness echoed peace and prosperity; its barrenness, a warning to awaken from spiritual slumber.

In today’s Gospel, the fig tree is barren—lifeless even after years of care. And yet, the gardener does not give up. He does not discard it. This is Jesus’ message for us today: even in our most barren spiritual seasons, when our faith feels dry, when sin feels cyclical and change feels impossible—there is still time.

There is always hope.

But it is not passive hope. This isn’t an excuse to delay or become complacent. Lent is our season of cultivation. A time not only for receiving grace but cooperating with it. We are called to fertilize the soil of our souls—with prayer, with repentance, with acts of love and mercy—so that our lives may yield fruit.

What does that fruit look like? Love, forgiveness, patience, generosity, integrity—anything that reflects Christ to the world.

But fruit doesn’t appear overnight. It takes time. Effort. Diligence. Most of all, it takes humility to recognize where we are barren and where we need to grow. The grace is there—the Gardener is at work. But we must respond.

So, where are you in this parable?

Are you the fig tree—still standing, still alive, but struggling to bear fruit? Are you aware of the time you've been given—this “one more year”? Do you recognize the mercy that has interceded for you?

This third week of Lent is a sacred pause—a moment to dig into the soil of our hearts. Ask yourself: What still clings to me that hinders growth? Where have I exhausted the soil without offering fruit in return? What might I need to release in order to fully receive God’s mercy and bear His image more clearly in the world?

A journey of faith is a daily invitation to examine, to repent, and to grow. It is a continual unfolding of grace, a process of pruning and patience. But God is not finished with you yet.

You are still in the garden.

The Gardener has not walked away.

Let this be the season you bear fruit.