I know it took me a while to get to this post. My apologies. I have been working diligently on a few screenplays.

I have spent a great deal of time on fig trees within New Testament writings. Something that, hopefully, you got a lot out of. In this post, I will be addressing other views on the verses mentioned. There are a number of theories - both plausible and not - especially in regards to the verses in Matthew and Mark.

The first thing I want to acknowledge is the fig three as a symbol of the fall of man. It is, in my opinion, another layer to these passages. It is absolutely founded, and something that I feel adds to the metaphors we have already discussed. To explain this, I will be acknowledging the concept of “first mention”.

For those of you who haven’t read Velvet Elvis (or did a while ago and don’t remember this section), Rob Bell explains that there are “methods to help decipher all the hidden meanings in a text. One is called the principle of first mention. Whenever you come across a significant word in a passage, find out where this word first appears in the Bible.” (Velvet Elvis, p. 156) In doing so, you can often get a clearer picture of what is being discussed.

What is the first mention of fig trees in Scripture?

If you were thinking the fall of man in Genesis 3, you win a grape. In verse 6, the sin happens. Adam and Eve then immediately (I would imagine, since it is their first act post-sin) “sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loin coverings.”

So we see there is an association with the fig tree and the shame of man and his sin. Because of this, another layer in all the verses I have discussed is the idea that sin itself is being rebuked. When Christ rebukes the fig tree, it can be understood he in turn rebukes the power of sin in the world. He thus warns sin, its days are numbered.

Now let us be clear, this in no way negates the historical context we have discussed thus far. It builds on top of it. Allow me to explain. Rome came to power through murder, destruction and thievery. They were idolaters who reveled in debauchery. Greed was the driving force of their economy, jealousy its fuel. It was an empire built on sin.

An empire that, it has been illustrated a thousand times over, is not all that dissimilar to our own.

Through this we can see that Christ is not only rebuking the fig tree, nor only the empire of Rome, but the very foundations of sin in the world. The empire of Rome was built firmly upon those foundations. It was not the only construct of the time built upon said foundations, but that will have to wait until next time.

I hope to be back on a few days to finish this epilogue. Until then, stay safe… and don’t wear fig leaves. Please.

So far in this study, I have examined passages in Matthew and Mark. I have pried into their historical and cultural context, and highlighted the themes of empirical oppression and Christ’s promise to free us from it. Essentially, I parallelled the fig tree in the passages to the Ficus Ruminalis of Rome, the mountain to the Palatine Hill, and Christ’s rebuke of said fig tree as a pronunciation of his power over the seemingly invincible empire.

Which, of course, brings me to the book of James.

I was reading James 3 at church two weeks ago, and I saw something come together in my head. Read the following verses with everything I have discussed in the back of your mind.

James 3:10-12
…from the same mouth come both blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be this way. Does a fountain send out from the same opening both fresh and bitter water? Can a fig tree, my brethren, produce olives, or a [grapevine] produce figs? Nor can salt water produce fresh.

This passage is laced with subversively anti-empirical language. See, James is comparing a fig tree and its fruit to a fountain of bitter (salt) water. Think of it this way: if you were dehydrated and dying of thirst, what would happen if you drank from a fountain of saltwater?

You would become even more dehydrated, and (if dehydrated enough) quite possibly die.

Saltwater has every appearance of life-giving water at first glance. However, in reality it does the exact opposite of what freshwater does. So basically, freshwater = life and saltwater = death.

In the middle of the statement comparing cursing and blessing to saltwater and freshwater, James makes a few comparisons. Normally, these statements would be used to clarify the point of the metaphor. However, upon first glance they seem to be redundant, or even make it more confusing. The whole purpose of such metaphors is to compare something good to something bad, thus emphasizing the point of the argument.

However, James uses seemingly random forms of vegetation which hold no characteristics of “good” or “bad”.

Unless, of course, you take into consideration Biblical and historical context. He first asks if a fig tree can bear olives. Why?

Throughout the Pauline texts, Abraham’s lineage is referred to as an olive tree. This isn’t the case throughout much of scripture, but Paul focuses on the metaphor quite a bit.

This would normally not really matter, but we have to take into account when these texts were written. It is commonly believed that Paul’s letter to the Romans was written sometime in the mid to late 50s AD (54 AD, specifically), with the earliest possible date being 51 and the latest being 58. James, on the other hand, was most likely written some time closer to 60 AD, but before James’ death in 62.

There is, of course, question as to the authorship and time frame of the Epistle of James, but there is one aspect in particular that cements its history. Many scholars firmly believe that a number of passages in James’ Epistle are focused squarely on the writings of Paul in his letter to the Romans. There is a growing definition of Pauline Christians and Jamesian Christians, based on the understanding that James uses sections of his letter to expand on and clarify the theology Paul discusses.

Based on this, it is safe to come to an understanding that James is referencing Paul’s usage of the olive tree in said letter. Thus, if we take into account James’ place in history we see the full breadth of his imagery in this passage. He is indeed comparing something good to something bad.

In proper perspective we can understand that James’ first metaphor is asking if Rome is capable of producing the offspring of Abraham. In other words, is the Empire that produces death capable of producing righteousness?

He then asks if a grapevine can produce figs. Some deductive reasoning can determine that James’ reference to the grapevine is actually a reference to Christ.

You may think I am being presumptuous, but I assure you I am not. In fact, Christ refers to himself as the vine numerous times in the Gospel of John. Beyond that, he refers to the wine of passover as his blood. We also see reference to wineskins as metaphors for the covenants between God and man (focusing on that of Christ).

So here James is actually asking if the vine that gives life (Christ) can produce the fruit of death (figs, the “produce” of Rome).

So, to put the whole passage in that cultural context, we see that it could read:

…from the same mouth come both blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be this way. Does a fountain send out from the same opening both fresh and bitter water? Can Rome, my brethren, produce offspring of Abraham, or the blood of Christ produce death? Nor can salt water produce fresh.

In light of all this, we see that James is making a powerful statement about the tongue. He was essentially saying that when you do not control your tongue, you are becoming just like the evil empire that oppresses you. There is a lot more backing for this theology, but it will have to wait until I start to talk about Demons, Evil and Satan. That is, of course, for another time though.

I will be back soon with more on fig trees. Doesn’t that sound so appealing? I know you just wait for my posts like the latest episodes of Lost. Well don’t worry. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Until then, don’t drink any saltwater.

Back from a great Christmas weekend, I want to continue with the theme of Christ’s lordship over all things. This is a common theme we see in the Epistles. We are told that Christ was raised above all kings and thrones and powers and dominions and that all earthly kingdoms were placed under his feet. That is, in essence, what the accounts in Matthew and Mark are all about. The importance of this concept is not something that can be overlooked, and it is not something that is only relevant to an ancient community under empirical oppression.

There is another aspect of this account that is equally important if we are going to see the whole picture the authors were painting. If we are looking at it through the lens of the Christian Roman citizen, then we cannot ignore Christ’s statement about the mountain.

The “seven hills of Rome” were seven peaks upon which sat the palaces of the Empire’s rulers. Six circled the borders of the city of Rome, with the seventh - Palatine Hill - sitting square in the middle. Palatine Hill was, as pointed out earlier, the location of the Ficus Ruminalis and the “birthplace of Rome”. So when Christ states that “if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and cast into the sea,’ it will happen,” the mountain he is referring to is Palatine Hill.

So when Christ says to his disciples that “if you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what was done to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and cast into the sea,’ it will happen. And all things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive,” what he is really saying is that they have the power to topple Rome. He was showing that God had dominion over Rome, and if they asked for Rome to be cast into the sea that God would do so.

So you see, this account wasn’t just the record of some random miracle. It was a message of hope to a people oppressed by a tyrannical empire. Need I remind you what kind of a ruler Nero was?

The thing that bothers me so much is that however horrible Nero may have been, I cannot ignore the fact that we are enslaved and oppressed today by something much worse.

Every day I open my eyes to a world that suffocates anyone who tries to break free. I read my friend’s blog about their struggles with suicide and the paralyzing fear they wrestle with. I talk to another friend who clearly feels the world is tearing them down, no matter how positive they remain. I look at the faces of my friends and see the scars and weathered lines from their fights against the lies of society that are so deeply ingrained within them. Death and destruction are running rampant in our generation, and some days I just don’t know if I can win.

I think perhaps that is why the symbolism of Christ rebuking the fig tree resonates so strongly with me.

It gives me hope.

The frustrating part is that I can’t find a targumic parallel. We have no clearly defined oppressor. The empire that beats down upon us is too ambiguous; the icons of its reign too numerous. I thought of Christ rebuking an ATM, and the ATM busting into flames. Same with a bank, or a movie theater or a television… the problem is the same. They are not as precise and clear as the image of the fig tree.

Nonetheless, we have the truth of history to encourage us.

Whatever may be beating you down - from loneliness to the lies of the consumerist culture, family curses to the American dream - Christ can burn it to the ground. Rome crumbled, despite the prevailing cultural belief that it was the final empire that would rule for the remainder of creation.

This too shall pass, but you cannot do it on your own. Go to your friends, your family, your community. We can only prevail when we unite in love and a fervent pursuit of Christ.

I’ll be back with more tomorrow. In the meantime, rebuke an ATM.

I just wanted to take a break from my posts about fig trees to wish you all a merry Christmas.

I’ll leave you with a brief thought. Each of the gospels opens with the coming of Christ in one form or another. Reading each of them can give us great insight into the intentions of the authors. In Matthew, Christ is framed as the “second Moses”. The book of Mark focuses on Christ as the Son of God. The book of Luke frames him as the “second Adam”. Lastly, the book of John focuses on his Godhood - specifically, Christ as the Word made flesh.

I hope you are all doing well, and that you have a wonderful Christmas.

Again, I want to continue the train of thought I have been running with all this week.

If perhaps you think I’m reading too much into these accounts, check out the “Lord’s prayer”:

Matthew 6:9-13
“This, then, is how you should pray:
” ‘Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.”

According to Matthew, when Christ taught his followers how to pray he taught them to revere God’s name as hallowed - not Caesar’s. To plead for God’s kingdom to come - not for the prosperity of Rome. To pray for God’s will to be done - not Caesar’s. To ask God for their daily bread - not Rome. The Lord’s prayer is a subversive text that depicts God as the true ruler of all creation, and His kingdom greater than that of Rome’s.

Back to the fig tree.

When Christ rebukes the fig tree and it withers, what the original audience was being told was that Christ had dominion over Rome. This is especially impactful in Mark, where they are shown that Christ could cause Rome’s very roots to wither by the mere utterance of a few words.

That’s pretty powerful, but the picture you’re seeing gets so much better when you add more history.

See, in the year 58 AD - four years into the rule of Nero - the Ficus Ruminalis began to wither. This was seen as a horrible omen for the future of Rome.

Both of these accounts are commonly thought to have been written after 58 AD (Mark sometime around 60 AD, and Matthew sometime after 70). Keep in mind, the fig tree in the accounts is not the Ficus Ruminalis itself, but a symbolic representation of it. Nonetheless, the withering of the Ficus Ruminalis in 58 AD must have been monumental for the Christians in the Roman Empire.

Think about it. If you were a Christian living under the rule of Nero (or shortly after, as in the case of Matthew), you would no doubt be praying for the tyranny of the Roman Empire to be brought to an end. The news that the Ficus Ruminalis had started to whither would immediately trigger the memory of any Christian who had heard the story of Christ and the fig tree. It was a beacon, a resounding flare shot into the sky, signaling the dawn of the end. The answer of their prayers.

That same year, the peace between Rome and Parthia was shattered. The resulting war between Rome and Parthia would last for five years, and would be seen as a sign of the beginning of the end for Pax Romana (a downward spiral that would culminate with the death of Marcus Aurelius in 180 AD). For our ancestral believers, this was a time of secret celebration. They had not hoped in vain. They had not prayed in futility. Indeed, as Christ promised, all things they asked in prayer were being given to them.

I think it is easy in our modern context to doubt the power of prayer. At least, I know it is for me. However, I don’t think it was any easier for the first century church. Empires remain in power by captivating and enslaving the imaginations of their people. It was no easier to imagine the power of prayer when under Pax Romana than it is today under Pax Consumerana.

What is it you are praying for? What tyranny are you praying will come to an end?

Be diligent, and keep faith. If the Roman Empire can be brought down by the prayers of God’s people, there is nothing that the prayers of those after God’s heart cannot do.

Until next time, stay super and drink your Ovaltine.

Iconoclast out.

Picking up where we left off, I want to continue to focus on the idea that the symbol of the fig tree was fully intertwined with the Roman citizen’s concept of Rome itself. It was on their money, engraved on walls and depicted in tapestries. In that culture, it was as synonymous with Rome as Romulus or the Palatine Hill.

I find it amazing how this one fact can change our perception of an entire passage so drastically.

Let me explain.

Christ rebukes a fig tree for not producing any fruit to feed him, and the fig tree withers. According to Matthew, the withering is immediate. According to Mark, they don’t notice it until the next day, but it withers from the roots up. Also interesting to note is that according to Mark it wasn’t fig season. There are a number of reasons for these differences, but I will get to that later.

Here’s why I find this all so fascinating:

It was common understanding in Roman society that all good things came from Rome. It was Rome that brought you peace - Pax Romana, as we have heard it called - and it was Rome that provided you with all your sustenance. It was thanks to Rome that you survived.

Yet here we have the writers of these Gospels depicting a fig tree - one of the prominent symbols of Rome’s empire and prosperity - as wholly incapable of providing any sustenance whatsoever.

I can imagine the original audiences who read these stories were awestruck by the authors’ audacity.

You see, the first message that this narrative communicated to its original audience was that Rome was not the source of their food. It was not Rome that would sustain them or satiate their hunger.

That is huge. That is beyond audacious.

Honestly, it makes me take a step back and question where I think my sustenance comes from.

What about you? Are you looking to God to provide your food and clothing and rent money, or do you look to your employer? Perhaps the economy, or the machine of consumerism?

Where does that money in your bank account really come from? Does it come from your job, or is it perhaps God providing for you?

If you were to lose your job tomorrow, would God continue to provide for your every need or would you find yourself hopelessly cut off from the economic provision of our society?

Just a few thoughts.

Until tomorrow, superfriends. Keep safe and don’t smoke drugs.

Picking up where I left off, it is within the context of Roman oppression that we find clarity on Matthew and Mark’s use of the fig tree.

To fully understand this, we must rewind all the way back to the dawn of the Roman Empire. According to Roman History, Romulus and Remus were to be killed, but due to their “beauty and innocence”, the servant instead placed their cradle in the (then flooded) Tiber river. They were saved from the river when the god Tibernius made their cradle catch in the roots of a fig tree. He then brought the infant twins up onto the Palatine Hill.

That fig tree, found at the base of the Palatine Hill, was referred to as the Ficus Ruminalis. It was held up as sacred within the Roman culture, and was pivotal in the Roman Imperial Cult’s divination practices. There were priests of the Imperial Cult whose sole job was to read the portents the gods were revealing through the Ficus Ruminalis. The tree was so intertwined with Rome itself that it was believed that the very future of the empire could be told by its health and fruitfulness.

Essentially, to those living in Rome the image of the fig tree was a symbol of the Roman Empire itself. It was representative of the very foundations - the very roots - of the Roman Empire.

I’ll pick up here again tomorrow. Hug someone today, but not in a creepy way.

Welcome back. If you haven’t done so already, I’d suggest reading the previous post titled “Fig Trees and Their Significance within Scripture, Preface.” It is, however, just a suggestion. Now, on with the discussion.

I prefaced with the previous post to give credence to my methods. The books of Scripture I am pulling from in this study are specifically those written to Christ followers living directly under Roman rule - specifically, the rule of Nero.

There are many uses of the fig tree within scripture, almost all of which utilize it as a metaphor. It is peppered throughout the Old Testament, almost always within some form of prophecy. For this reason, the concept of the fig tree has very direct meaning within its Jewish context.

However, the image of the fig tree had a very different association at the time of the following writings. It is this association I wish to bring to light. The passages I will start with are:

Matthew 21:18-22
Now in the morning, when He was returning to the city, He became hungry. Seeing a lone fig tree by the road, He came to it and found nothing on it except leaves only; and He said to it, “No longer shall there ever be any fruit from you.” And at once the fig tree withered. Seeing this, the disciples were amazed and asked, “How did the fig tree wither all at once?” And Jesus answered and said to them, “Truly I say to you, if you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what was done to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and cast into the sea,’ it will happen. And all things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive.”

and

Mark 11:12-14; 20-24
On the next day, when they had left Bethany, He became hungry. Seeing at a distance a fig tree in leaf, He went to see if perhaps He would find anything on it; and when He came to it, He found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs. He said to it, “May no one ever eat fruit from you again!” And His disciples were listening.
…
As they were passing by in the morning, they saw the fig tree withered from the roots up. Being reminded, Peter said to Him, “Rabbi, look, the fig tree which You cursed has withered.” And Jesus answered saying to them, “Have faith in God. Truly I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and cast into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says is going to happen, it will be granted him. Therefore I say to you, all things for which you pray and ask, believe that you have received them, and they will be granted you.

The accounts Matthew and Mark give of Jesus rebuking the fig tree have always stood out to me. When read through our modern eyes, this snippet seems random - possibly even silly. Aside from recording another of Jesus’ miracles, there doesn’t seem to be much of a point in the author’s inclusion of this account.

Of course, that has a lot to do with context.

See, a fig tree is meaningless to us. It’s a tree that produces figs. Figs are what they use to make Fig Newtons. Outside of that we really don’t find much meaning behind the fig tree, or what happens in the account (unless you are a follower of Hinduism, Jainism or Buddhism, in which case you may think of the Bo-Tree, or “Sacred Fig”, which still wouldn’t have much relevance to this account since the Ficus religiosa plant was not found anywhere near the region where these accounts take place).

Now it is widely accepted that the Gospel of Matthew was written to a primarily Jewish audience - essentially, the Christians of the time who were at least somewhat educated in Jewish history and culture. The Gospel of Mark, on the other hand, was written specifically to the Christians in Rome. Nonetheless, there is one element that ties the two together in this (and I am not referring to the fact that both are written to Christians, or that they both give accounts of Jesus).

The common thread is Rome.

You see, while the Gospel of Matthew may have been written to a primarily Jewish audience, it is clear that this audience was indeed living in territory ruled by the Roman Empire. All one must do to determine this is pay attention to the empirical language the author uses. See the usage of words like kingdom, Lord and save (we may not think the word “save” a very empirical term, unless we take into account the fact that one of the predominant sayings of the Roman empire was “there is no other name by which men can be saved than that of Caesar”). Out of context these terms may not seem significant, but as Warren Carter states in Matthew and Empire,

“…Matthew’s Gospel contests and resists the Roman Empire’s
claims to sovereignty over the world. It sustains an alternative community of
disciples of Jesus in anticipation of the coming triumph of God’s Empire over all
things, including the destruction of Rome’s empire. That is to say, the Gospel
resists Rome with a social challenge in offering a vastly different vision and
experience of human community, and with a theological challenge in asserting
that the world belongs to God not Rome, and that God’s purposes run through
Israel and Jesus, not Rome.”

In fact, Jesus Christ essentially usurps the authority of Rome in what is now commonly referred to as the “great commission”.

Matthew 28:18-20
And Jesus came up and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

John Riches gives great reference for this in Matthew’s Missionary Strategy in Colonial Perspective. Specifically, how Christ’s teaching of authority, political power and territorial expansion interact with the motif of his divine status.

More on the fig trees tomorrow. For now, go tell someone you love them.

Fig trees.

Sounds like an odd topic, yeah? Perhaps, but it is something I find fascinating. It’s also far less controversial than many of the other topics I will be discussing here, so I thought it would be apropos to use it as my first real entry.

I’m not going to dive into the whole of Scripture for this exploration. In fact, I will be sticking to specific books of the New Testament.

I know what you’re thinking. It sounds like I may be “picking and choosing” Scripture to prove my point. I assure you, this is hardly the case. Allow me to explain.

When studying the Scriptures, it is undeniably important to take into account the context in which they were written. While there are certain universal truths that transcend culture (specifically, the core beliefs all of Christendom is founded on - namely; the existence of God, the imperfection of man and the salvation of man through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ), when it comes to the deeper truths of God and creation that we may find within what we now refer to as “The Bible”, one must look beyond the text’s face value.

What I am suggesting is that we cannot simply take the English translation we are reading as culturally or linguistically accurate. One must harness an understanding of the original language, and refer to it often. Beyond that, we must be conscious of who the author was, who they were writing to and what the cultural climate of the society was at the time. It is only in seeking these answers that we can come to a greater comprehension of what the original author was truly saying.

Let me be clear, though. I am not suggesting that God cannot speak through the Scriptures without these things. That would be ludicrous. God can and does speak through anything and everything. If He can speak to me through the mountains I admire while walking up Los Robles Avenue, He can certainly speak through Scripture without any of these details.

What I am suggesting is that there are beautiful messages and incredible concepts that we miss when reading the Scriptures because we are not looking at them with the same eyes as the people they were originally written to. The process of study I am advocating and utilizing in this post attempts to correct this. It is, in essence, an attempt to view the text from the eyes of the original readers. While this is not something that could ever be achieved in its entirety, the closer we get to that goal the more we will understand about what is being said.

That’s all for now. Tune in next blog, when I actually start talking about fig trees. lol. Same iconoclast time, same iconoclast channel!