The prophet Habakkuk, at the end of his prophecy which reads like a psalm, like a prayer, like a song; at the end he writes,

Though the fig tree does not blossom,
            and no fruit is on the vines;
though the produce of the olive fails,
            and the fields yield no food;
though the flock is cut off from the fold,
            and there is no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
            I will exult in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength;
            he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
            and makes me tread upon the heights. (Habakkuk 3:17-19)

Though the fig tree does not blossom, and no fruit is on the vines … yet … I will exult in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength.

I do not generally relate well to parables about growing things. The thing about me and plants is that we do not go well together. I cannot grow a dandelion on purpose. If I plant a fig tree, let’s be clear, and it does not blossom or bear fruit, it is not going to be the fault of the fig tree.

So perhaps this is one horticultural parable that I can relate to, after all. This fig tree is struggling. Who knows why – whether the soil is too poor, whether it is too young or too old to put forth the fruit the man demands? Yet the gardener defends it. I learned this from Eugene Peterson: “Let it alone,” the gardener says, using the exact words (in the original language) that Jesus will utter from the Cross to defend even his enemies, when he prays, “Father, forgive them.”[i]

I can relate to mercy, to second chances, even when they involve some manure, or forty years wandering in the wilderness, often grumpy, sometimes lost, always there by the grace and strength of God.

There is a whole lot of grief dug into the readings we hear today. Moses is an exile from not one but two families, his birth family, his adopted family, two backgrounds, nationalities, caught between cultures and in exile from them both. He is on the run and finding comfort where he can. Can you imagine?

Even in the voice of God, there is the foreshadowing of terrible grief: the ruination of the Egyptians at the Red Sea, the rout of the Hittites, the Jebusites, the Canaanites, the Amorites, the Hivites, the Perizzites yet to come, not to mention the thousands lost to the wilderness, as Paul describes.

How do we not hear these stories without seeing the map of current conflicts and terrible grief overlaid and undergirded, without wondering where we would go, to whom we could possibly turn for comfort, were we there, were we them?

Jesus tells his parable to those who were reeling from the news of national disaster: of Pilate’s political murder and manslaughter in Jerusalem; worshippers taken at the altar for their rebellious resistance, and workers slain by deadly working conditions. Jesus tells his parable to those who are afraid that they will be next, that the powers that be will determine that they, too, are a waste of the soil in which they are planted and rooted.

And Jesus tells the story of the gardener, son of Adam, the Son of Man, who will stand in the breach for them, handle the manure for them, until it is transformed by the earth into better things. The gardener who will push back against the axe with patience and persistence and mercy.

In the story of Exodus, God does not wait for Moses to stumble across God’s presence. God, the creator of the universe, the Lord of life, the almighty secretes Godself within the flames emanating from a shrub, to attract Moses’ attention; God calls to Moses by name. God tells Moses that God has been listening, that God has heard the cries of the people, that God has seen Moses’ wanderings. God promises, moreover, to stay – “I will be with you” – for as long as it takes.

In the parable that Jesus tells, the gardener, the son of Adam, the Son of Man stands in the breach between the fig tree and the axe. God almighty made human, God incarnate stands with his people, his anxious, grieving, fearful people, and tells them a story of protection, provision, and mercy. He is telling them, telling us, “I will be with you, as long as it takes.”

He also tells his listeners, tells us, to repent.

You have heard, I am sure, that repentance is not the same thing as penitence, although penitence is rightly commended to us, too, particularly in this season of Lent. But while penitence reflects our grief and sorrow for our sin, repentance is about repair. It is about new beginnings, second, third, and forty-fifth chances; it is about turning from the axe toward mercy, about turning from oppression to find God. It is about turning from death toward the source and end of our life.

Repentance is about standing next to Jesus in the breach. It is about recognizing that nothing, no one whom God has made can be called a waste of the soil, a waste of their space on earth.

Perhaps the soil was not well-fed enough for the fig tree to flourish. Perhaps conditions were too harsh. Perhaps the man was too impatient. But look to your own righteousness, Jesus says. Repent: make sure you are facing in the right direction; the direction of mercy, of love, of feeding the five thousand fig trees, of patient and persistent protection of the vulnerable, those in danger of being cut down.

But there is more. Where the man is impatient, the gardener sees potential. Where the man sees barrenness, the gardener sees life. Where the man sees a waste of the soil, a waste of space, the gardener sees a tree. When we feel as dry as dust, when our efforts at life seem fruitless – then, God is near, drawing closer and closer in the burning bush, standing in the breach, dealing with the manure, seeing your potential, your life, proclaiming that you, too, are worthy of the space you take up, that you are beloved. Jesus, God with us, even from the Cross proclaiming, “Let it alone! Father, forgive them.”

Though the fig tree does not blossom, and no fruit is on the vines … yet … I will exult in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength.

[i] Eugene Peterson, Tell it Slant: A Conversation on the Language of Jesus in His Stories and Prayers (Grand Rapids, MI/Cambridge, UK: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2008), 74

Year C Lent 3 readings include Exodus 3:1-15, 1 Corinthians 10:1-11, Luke 13:1-9, Psalm 63:1-8