The Parable of the Bad Homesteader

A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew:

And he told them this parable:
“There once was a person who had a fig tree planted in his orchard,
and when he came in search of fruit on it but found none,
he said to the gardener,
‘For three years now I have come in search of fruit on this fig tree
but have found none.
So cut it down.
Why should it exhaust the soil?’
He said to him in reply,
‘Sir, leave it for this year also,
and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it;
it may bear fruit in the future.
If not you can cut it down.’”

I call this one “the parable of the bad homesteader.”

The interpretation I heard of this parable from Matthew growing up was the mean one: the master of the house is God the Father, and you are the fig tree. God the Father in His righteousness wants to cut you down, because you aren’t producing fruit on schedule. You’re not productive enough. You’re taking too long to get your act together. But Jesus, codependent scapegoat brother that he is, is here to help. He’s pleading with the Father to give you more time. He’s going to throw some manure on you to make you feel horrible, so that you’ll start bearing fruit. But this is your last chance.

Looking at the story now, I see it in a totally different light.

It takes a fig tree three to five years before it bears fruit. I just looked that up because I wasn’t sure; figs don’t grow well in this climate. Three years isn’t an alarmingly long time to wait for your figs. It’s just the beginning of when figs can be expected, if you’ve just transplanted a sapling. But the person who planted that tree doesn’t seem to be a very good farmer. He’s been looking for figs every year from the beginning.

The gardener asks for a little more time, promising to fertilize it, which is also strange.

Why didn’t he fertilize it earlier? Again, I had to look this up, but generally you’re supposed to plant a fruit tree in good rich soil, water it well, and then apply the fertilizer the following spring. Waiting three years to cultivate your soil is silly. No good gardener would do that, today or in ancient times.

“Why should it exhaust the soil?” Because you made a mistake. You haven’t fed it. You’ve got to feed soil; that’s how gardening works.

It’s a miracle these two haven’t starved to death.

The owner and the gardener remind me of those people who decide they’re going to try homesteading on a whim because it’s a fad. Not the wonderful people who try gardening or raising chickens for the first time because it looks like fun, and ask for advice and learn from their mistakes and eventually get good at it. And I’m certainly not talking about homesteaders who have always farmed and gardened for food because they love it or because it runs in the family. Both of those kinds of people are wonderful people. I’m talking about the wealthy type that doesn’t know what they’re doing, and lack the humility and the patience to learn. They plant the vegetable patch with fussy heirlooms and get that three thousand dollar chicken coop from a catalog. They throw the trees in the ground with no real care. Next thing you know the place is a squalid mess, the trees are dried out sticks, and the chickens are running feral into the road. That type of homesteader. That type would cut down a fig tree in a fit of temper, because it hadn’t quite borne fruit in three years ,because they forgot to fertilize it in the first place. A good farmer wouldn’t.

And I think that God the Father must be a good farmer.

Here’s how I look at the parable now: I am the bad homesteader. I am also that poor tree who hasn’t borne any figs just yet, because I haven’t been properly nourished. I am having a fit because my life looks nothing like the way it ought, and I’m taking my frustration out on myself again. But along comes Jesus, the servant, with a bucket of good healthy compost.

He doesn’t stop to laugh at me for expecting fruit so soon, and he doesn’t waste any time mocking me for not knowing what I’m doing. He just gets to work, feeding me.  so I may bear fruit in the future.

God the Father doesn’t want to murder you for being unproductive.

God is love.

Be patient. You will bear fruit in the future.