Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Composting the Source Code
(cuing q)

What would happen if we were to read the whole section of source code (“Q”) in Luke 12-13 as an expostulation of a conversation between two people in a fig orchard? In this week's gospel selection Jesus tells a parable about an orchard keeper who proposes to the owner that one particular fig tree be given a fourth season to bear fruit. After three failed seasons. 

Just for fun, we're going to let this orchard scene work as a lens to view the whole chunk of “source code” (“Q”) that is Luke 12-13. We'll treat the parable as an allegory, so we'll need to assign parts:

The orchard owner is the lady with the stetson hat who just parked the four-wheeler by the field row – she's fooling with her phone – she's God. 

The young intern from the University Ag Department with the shovel pawing the dirt around the tree – that's Jesus.

The fig tree: that's me – uh, you – well, it's all of us, but one at a time.

The orchard: that's all of us all at one time. You can call the orchard “Israel” or “The Church” or “The World” or even “The Self” I guess, depending on where you're putting this on. 

You know the dialog from the gospel lesson.

Our operating premise is this: everything that the intern does in the fourth season for the tree (you and me) is expressed in the source code of Luke 12 and 13. It's all about giving that fig tree the best shot at bearing fruit in year four. The young interim's techniques, to say the least, are eclectic. He throws everything he can at that tree. Threats. Warnings. Words of comfort. Object lessons.

I'll run our little orchard-scene filter on a couple of sections. Here's the first:

12:1 Meanwhile, when the crowd gathered in thousands, so that they trampled on one another, he began to speak first to his disciples, ‘Beware of the yeast of the Pharisees, that is, their hypocrisy. 2Nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. 3Therefore whatever you have said in the dark will be heard in the light, and what you have whispered behind closed doors will be proclaimed from the housetops. (NRSV)

The person tending that tree better know what he is doing. Too much acid or too much lime will set it back. But more than anything else, the tree has to matter to the cultivator. The intern has already “gone to bat” with the owner. We know this. But the young man will delegate the work. There are a lot of people out there who hang their shingle advertising “tree-care”. But if the cultivator is merely a hireling, or, worse, has some covert interest in making sure this tree fails, so that, say, he can plant poppies, then the fourth season will be a wash. But since the poppies he wants to plant are illegal, he cannot disclose his motives. These people never do. They preach figs and dream poppies. The tree doesn't stand a chance. So, you see, the decision that is made for who is to cultivate this fourth-year creature is critical. The tree must flourish with its surplus – its fruit – or it will perish. We pray the one given this work will reflect the heart of the one who wants us to succeed. We cannot necessarily control that. But we can certainly be aware of it. 

Let's do another one:

12:13 Someone in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.’ 14But he said to him, ‘Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?’ 15And he said to them, ‘Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.’ 16Then he told them a parable: ‘The land of a rich man produced abundantly. 17And he thought to himself, “What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?” 18Then he said, “I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. 19And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” 20But God said to him, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” 21So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich towards God.’ (NRSV)

Ok, here's the thing about the fig tree (you, me, and all of us one at a time, remember). We were not planted in the orchard just to take up space, drawing the good out of the ground so we can shape out with an impressive profile. Nope. The purpose of a fig tree is – you guessed it - to bear fruit. Because without the fruit - if this were to be the pattern of the species - fig trees will cease to exist. Not just this fig tree that is you or me or somebody else. All fig trees. the whole orchard. No fruit. No next generation. 

But the issue is greater than the survival of the species. We are talking about an orchard, not a fig forest. It's all about the yield. Figs! Raw, dried, baked, figgy pudding, whatever: they're food! It's not about the tree. It's about what the tree yields up beyond its life. 

Even with the best of care, the cultivator cannot necessarily know why one tree bears fruit and another does not. For each of us, as a person, our commission to bear fruit leads us into the most profound soul-quest. The tragedy of the man with the barns is that his life failed to extend beyond itself, and his failure was in the fourth season. He had fallen for the common illusion that a successful life unfolds in an unending continuum. A rather romantic notion if you think about it. But deadly nonetheless. The source code is emphatic: we never know. Our allegory gives us a helpful injunction: assume that every season is the fourth season.. Assume that every moment is the 59th second in the 59th minute of the 11th hour. We can read this as a threat, which- well - it is. But the intern did not negotiate a fourth season for the poor fig tree as a death sentence. The eleventh hour is a window of time for the lovely fruit to make its first appearance among the green foliage. It is a sacred time in which we recognize the appearance of life is that is not for keeping, but for blessing.

The beauty of the fig tree – the beauty of my life, and yours, is truly to be found in the life that we give away as food to the stranger, who, as it turns out, is the owner of the vineyard. We did not recognize her, of course, in that stetson hat, fooling with the phone.

© 2010 Andy Gay