Fruit of the Fig Tree

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This past weekend was fruitful spiritually, with the Lenten retreat on Saturday introducing me to a new term and the Gospel reading for Sunday giving me much food for contemplation.

During the retreat, Dominican Father Gabriel Mosher spoke of the “semen gloriae,” a term I had never heard before. The Latin term means “seed of glory;” Fr. Gabriel said this seed is planted in the soul at baptism; it is “the initial dwelling of the Holy Spirit within you.”

The Catholic Church teaches that through baptism each of us becomes an adopted child of God “who has become a ‘partaker of the divine nature,’” as the Catechism says, quoting several Scripture passages. I’m familiar with this teaching, and also know that the Holy Spirit dwells within – “As the soul is the life of the body, so the Holy Spirit is the life of our souls,” Saint Peter Damian said – but the “seed of glory” was new to me.

The image of a seed in my soul resonates with me, but also causes concern. In nature, seeds sprout, grow to a mature plant and bear fruit; logically, the final harvest of a seed of glory would be the 12 fruits of the Holy Spirit: charity, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness, modesty, self-control, chastity.

The thing about seeds, though, is that they must be carefully tended in order to grow into healthy plants. I’m not at all sure I’m giving proper care to my seed of glory; I suspect it needs more than just saying grace at meals, attending Mass once a week and writing an occasional check to the Church and charities. These casual observances may prevent the seed from withering, but for it to flourish it will need me to seek to conform my life more closely to Christ. Fortunately, this season of Lent is a time to concentrate on prayer, fasting and almsgiving precisely for the purpose of a deeper conversion toward a Christian life.

Sunday’s Gospel led me to a similar train of thought. The reading was the first 13 verses of Luke 13, which contains the parable of the fig tree. Jesus tells the story of a man who has a fig tree in his orchard that has not borne fruit for three years. He tells the gardener to cut down the tree, asking, “Why should it exhaust the soil?” The gardener requests that the tree be left for one year more, saying he would fertilize it and cultivate the ground around it. If that care didn’t result in the tree bearing fruit, he said, “Then you can cut it down.”

A common interpretation of this parable is that each of us is a fig tree, God is the owner of the orchard, and Jesus is the gardener. In this scenario, a logical question to ask is whether I am bearing fruit. An examination of conscience led me to conclude that any fruit I do produce is hard and bitter; for example, the other day I did a good deed, but only grudgingly.

One of the commentaries I read on the parable suggested that we accept help from any gardener willing to give it, but I’m a little more cautious than that; after all, Jesus had another parable about an enemy sowing weeds among the grain.

It is true, however, that there are many gardeners who could help me tend either the seed in my soul or the figurative tree I’m trying to coax to bear fruit. Among these potential caregivers are the saints; Fr. Gabriel suggested cultivating a friendship with a couple of saints, which is something I have never done. There are several whose works speak to me, though, and so I am considering adding this to my Lenten journey in hopes they will lead me to bear better fruit.

Marie Mischel is editor of the Intermountain Catholic. Reach her at marie@icatholic.org.