“Take the fig tree as a parable…”
--Mark 13:28
This invitation to “Take the fig tree as a parable…” has planted a seed in my imagination. What I hear in this verse is Jesus telling His disciples (even today) to look at the world, at the actual and see with new eyes a parable, a lesson, a glimpse of God’s glory revealed. And with this in mind, I find myself contemplating the rest of Mark’s gospel through this lens—the actual.
First, what is a parable? A parable is a figurative saying that draws attention to similarities between two things, often quite distinctly different things. There is often a paradox about this comparison that strikes the reader as impossible or not right. For instance: How could the Kingdom of God be like a mustard seed? Or why would a shepherd leave 99 sheep alone and at risk while going off to search for a single stray? It doesn’t make sense at first—but then when we let it sink into our prayer, to our soul, to our heart… it begins to reveal a kind of truth we might never have imagined.
Let me apply this for a moment to scripture itself: chapter 4 of Mark’s Gospel. The main body of this chapter involves a series of parables and sayings about the Kingdom of God, interrupted by a lesson about the meaning of the parable of the Sower. And so, one might say that this chapter seems to be a chapter about parables. Parables for Dummies, so to speak.
But it is also interesting to note that this chapter is framed by boats. The chapter begins with Jesus getting into a boat in order to teach the crowd that has gathered. And ends with the famous scene of Jesus asleep in the boat during a storm. A chapter about parables ends with a story that feels a little bit like a parable: the disciples frightened by a storm at sea, and their teacher sleeping through it. When they wake Him, Jesus commands the storm to be still, but to the disciples He only says: Do you still have no faith? (cf. 4:40) Clearly there is a lesson to this little story about a stormy night on the water. And it seems to have nothing to do with meteorology.
But, maybe it has something to do with boats. Jesus gets into a boat in order to teach the crowd on the shore. And then like a farmer scattering seeds, He scatters a few lessons about; tells a story, draws a couple of comparisons between a mustard seed and the Kingdom of God, the mystery of God’s kingdom and the mystery of a sprouting seed, and then He starts emphasizing the need to see, and to hear, to look and to listen, to place your lamp on a lampstand instead of hiding it under a bed.
Basically, He seems to be saying: pay attention.
Then, the chapter ends with that brief but very famous scene with the storm at sea; as if that storm and that boat and that sleeping Jesus were the final lesson—a kind of pop quiz, if you will. Remember—He got into the boat so that He could teach. And here He is in the boat—still teaching.
In the story, it seems like the disciples have not yet learned their lesson. Jesus basically dope slaps them with his question about their lack of faith. But—what about us? Have we learned anything?
What was the lesson? I think it has something to do with opening our eyes to the mystery of God’s presence all around us. His grace in the storm and the struggle as well as in the tender moments of healing and joy.
When I feel blessed, it is easy to feel like I am in the presence of God. That I am loved. But, when I feel lonely, unwanted or unnoticed, and everything seems to be going wrong—a perfect storm of mistakes and insecurities and fear and anxiety rises up around me; in a moment like that, it is pretty hard to feel God’s love. But, I think Jesus is saying: Look. Listen. Pay attention. Open your eyes and you will see… open your ears and you will hear—I am there. With you. Always.
But, how do we see God’s presence in our daily life? Through the lessons of the parables. We have to learn how to read our daily life like it was a parable. The parable of the actual. This isn’t just about fig trees and scattered seeds. It’s also about jammed staplers and flat tires and neighbor’s dogs that bark all night. I hear God telling me to open my eyes and see, open my ears and listen. The neighbor with the barking dog, might need a friend. The flat tire might be God’s way of asking me to stop rushing about, stop being so independent, and to let other see me struggle, so that they will have the opportunity to stop their rushing about and offer help to an old man who doesn’t even know how to use a crowbar. As for the jammed stapler—well, sometimes I can take these things too far.
Take the fig tree as a parable. Look at the real world, what is actually happening around you. Is it possible that that is where God is revealing Himself to you? Are you the neighbor who hears the ambulance or fire truck siren and steps outside to see if someone needs help? Or are you the neighbor who notices when a sprinkler is left on and shuts it off to save someone's water bill? Are you the one who puts bird seed out every morning for the blue jays or are you the one who carries peanuts in your pocket for the squirrels at the park? Do you notice the new people in your life? Do you notice the sadness in the eyes of a stranger? Or the smile on the face of the elderly couple who sit on their porch holding hands every morning? Look at the leaves. Look at the clouds. Look at the brown summer grass. Listen to breeze. Listen to the birds. Listen to your wife (or husband) even when they are telling you the same story for the 31st time. Look. Listen. And really hear, really see what is really right there before you. The face of God come to meet you on your journey.
Anyway, I am trying to read my life as a kind of parable, the parable of the barking dog, the parable of the one-eyed squirrel, the parable of the lonely husband… whatever is happening, I am trying to focus less on my own reaction, and more on the actual events. And what they might tell me about God’s Kingdom.
Where is God revealing Himself in your life? In a sink of dishes? In a bowl of ice cream? In a cat curled in your lap? In an uncomfortable conversation with your boss. Or in a happy hour beer with a friend. Somewhere in your day, God is calling you: Come, my beloved; come and sit with me… For myself, my hope is that I will stop looking for some mystical sign and just open my eyes to the mystery and the grace all around me. Even in the moldy head of Romaine that I forgot in the back of the refrigerator. I pray that for you, too.
Lord, open my eyes to Your Word
That I can read it more clearly;
Open my ears to Your Word,
That I can hear Your message more fully;
And open my heart to Your Word
That I will be filled with the Love
That is always found there.
