Give It Another Year
There are mornings when we look at our lives and see mostly what has not happened.
The habit we meant to break is still there. The prayer we meant to deepen remains distracted. The work is unfinished. The apology has not been made. The virtue we thought we would possess by now still seems rather conspicuously absent.
And then comes Christ’s strange little story of a tree.
It has produced nothing. The owner has every reason to be disappointed. Yet the gardener asks for something astonishingly ordinary:
More time.
Not endless time. Not indifference. One more season in which the soil may be opened, tended, and made fruitful.
Perhaps that is enough to carry into prayer this morning.
Opening Verse
Lord, open my lips.
And my mouth shall declare thy praise.
Invitatory
Antiphon: Come, let us adore the Lord, for the earth is his and the fulness thereof.
Psalm 94 (95)
Come let us praise the Lord with joy: let us joyfully sing to God our saviour.
Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving; and make a joyful noise to him with psalms.
For the Lord is a great God, and a great king above all gods.
For in his hand are all the ends of the earth: and the heights of the mountains are his.
For the sea is his, and he made it: and his hands formed the dry land.
Come let us adore and fall down: and weep before the Lord that made us.
For he is the Lord our God: and we are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand.
Today if you shall hear his voice, harden not your hearts:
As in the provocation, according to the day of temptation in the wilderness: where your fathers tempted me, they proved me, and saw my works.
Forty years long was I offended with that generation, and I said: These always err in heart.
And these men have not known my ways: so I swore in my wrath that they shall not enter into my rest.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
Antiphon: Come, let us adore the Lord, for the earth is his and the fulness thereof.
Psalmody
Psalm 118 (119):145–152
Antiphon: My eyes have prevented the morning: that I might meditate on thy words.
I cried with my whole heart, hear me, O Lord: I will seek thy justifications.
I cried unto thee, save me: that I may keep thy commandments.
I prevented the dawning of the day, and cried: because in thy words I very much hoped.
My eyes to thee have prevented the morning: that I might meditate on thy words.
Hear thou my voice, O Lord, according to thy mercy: and quicken me according to thy judgment.
They that persecute me have drawn nigh to iniquity; but they are gone far off from thy law.
Thou art near, O Lord: and all thy ways are truth.
I have known from the beginning concerning thy testimonies: that thou hast founded them for ever.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
Antiphon: My eyes have prevented the morning: that I might meditate on thy words.
Canticle — Exodus 15
Antiphon: The Lord is my strength and my praise, and he is become salvation to me.
Let us sing to the Lord: for he is gloriously magnified, the horse and the rider he hath thrown into the sea.
The Lord is my strength and my praise, and he is become salvation to me: he is my God, and I will glorify him: the God of my father, and I will exalt him.
The Lord is as a man of war, Almighty is his name.
Pharao’s chariots and his army he hath cast into the sea: his chosen captains are drowned in the Red Sea.
The depths have covered them, they are sunk to the bottom like a stone.
Thy right hand, O Lord, is magnified in strength: thy right hand, O Lord, hath slain the enemy.
And in the multitude of thy glory thou hast put down thy adversaries: thou hast sent thy wrath, which hath devoured them like stubble.
And with the blast of thy anger the waters were gathered together: the flowing water stood, the depths were gathered together in the midst of the sea.
The enemy said: I will pursue and overtake, I will divide the spoils, my soul shall have its fill: I will draw my sword, my hand shall slay them.
Thy wind blew and the sea covered them: they sunk as lead in the mighty waters.
Who is like to thee, among the strong, O Lord? Who is like to thee, glorious in holiness, terrible and praiseworthy, doing wonders?
Thou stretchedst forth thy hand, and the earth swallowed them.
In thy mercy thou hast been a leader to the people which thou hast redeemed: and in thy strength thou hast carried them to thy holy habitation.
Thou shalt bring them in, and plant them in the mountain of thy inheritance, in thy most firm habitation which thou hast made, O Lord; thy sanctuary, O Lord, which thy hands have established.
The Lord shall reign for ever and ever.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
Antiphon: The Lord is my strength and my praise, and he is become salvation to me.
Psalm 116 (117)
Antiphon: O praise the Lord, all ye nations.
O praise the Lord, all ye nations: praise him, all ye people.
For his mercy is confirmed upon us: and the truth of the Lord remaineth for ever.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
Antiphon: O praise the Lord, all ye nations.
Short Reading
2 Peter 1:10–11
Wherefore, brethren, labour the more, that by good works you may make sure your calling and election. For doing these things, you shall not sin at any time.
For so an entrance shall be ministered to you abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
Short Responsory
I cried unto thee, O Lord; thou art my refuge.
I cried unto thee, O Lord; thou art my refuge.
Thou art my portion in the land of the living.
Thou art my refuge.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.
I cried unto thee, O Lord; thou art my refuge.
Gospel of the Day
Luke 13:1–9
And there were present, at that very time, some that told him of the Galileans, whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.
And he answering, said to them: Think you that these Galileans were sinners above all the men of Galilee, because they suffered such things?
No, I say to you: but unless you shall do penance, you shall all likewise perish.
Or those eighteen upon whom the tower fell in Siloe, and slew them: think you, that they also were debtors above all the men that dwelt in Jerusalem?
No, I say to you; but except you do penance, you shall all likewise perish.
He spoke also this parable: A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came seeking fruit on it, and found none.
And he said to the dresser of the vineyard: Behold, for these three years I come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and I find none. Cut it down therefore; why cumbereth it the ground?
But he answering, said to him: Lord, let it alone this year also, until I dig about it, and dung it.
And if happily it bear fruit: but if not, then after that thou shalt cut it down.
Benedictus
Antiphon: Give light, O Lord, to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.
Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; because he hath visited and wrought the redemption of his people:
And hath raised up an horn of salvation to us, in the house of David his servant:
As he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets, who are from the beginning:
Salvation from our enemies, and from the hand of all that hate us:
To perform mercy to our fathers, and to remember his holy testament,
The oath, which he swore to Abraham our father, that he would grant to us,
That being delivered from the hand of our enemies, we may serve him without fear,
In holiness and justice before him, all our days.
And thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the Highest: for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways:
To give knowledge of salvation to his people, unto the remission of their sins:
Through the bowels of the mercy of our God, in which the Orient from on high hath visited us:
To enlighten them that sit in darkness, and in the shadow of death: to direct our feet into the way of peace.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
Antiphon: Give light, O Lord, to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.
Intercessions
Christ calls us not merely to possess life, but to bear fruit in it. Trusting in his patient mercy, let us pray:
Lord, cultivate our hearts and make us fruitful.
For the Church: that she may proclaim both the urgency of conversion and the inexhaustible mercy of God.
Lord, cultivate our hearts and make us fruitful.
For bishops, priests, deacons, religious, missionaries, teachers, parents, and all who cultivate the lives entrusted to them: give them patience when the fruit is slow in coming.
Lord, cultivate our hearts and make us fruitful.
For our work today: keep us from confusing busyness with fruitfulness, and teach us to use our gifts for the good of others and the building up of the Body of Christ.
Lord, cultivate our hearts and make us fruitful.
For our homes and families: give us patience with one another, especially where growth is difficult to see.
Lord, cultivate our hearts and make us fruitful.
For those who suffer sudden tragedy, illness, loss, violence, or fear: keep us from easy judgments, and surround them with mercy, consolation, and practical help.
Lord, cultivate our hearts and make us fruitful.
For those who believe that they have wasted too many years to begin again: let this day become for them the beginning of another season.
Lord, cultivate our hearts and make us fruitful.
For the dead, especially those who have died suddenly or without the comfort of family and friends: receive them into the light of thy presence.
Lord, cultivate our hearts and make us fruitful.
For ourselves: show us what must be pruned, what must be dug up, what must be nourished, and what good fruit thou art asking us to bear.
Lord, cultivate our hearts and make us fruitful.
Our Father
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation.
But deliver us from evil. Amen.
Concluding Prayer
Almighty and merciful Father, thou hast given us this day not merely to pass through, but to offer back to thee.
Dig deep where our hearts have grown hard. Nourish what is weak. Prune what is useless. Strengthen every good thing thou hast planted within us.
Give us patience without complacency, repentance without despair, and gratitude for the astonishing mercy of another morning.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Blessing
May the Lord bless us, and keep us from all evil, and bring us unto everlasting life.
Amen.
The Paradox of the Day
God’s patience is not permission to remain barren; it is the gift of time in which to bear fruit.
Chesterton for the Morning
“A tree grows fruit because it is a magic tree.”
— G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy, “The Ethics of Elfland”
A Chestertonian Meditation
Another Year for the Fig Tree
There is something wonderfully unreasonable about a fruit tree.
We put a dry-looking stick into dirt. Rain falls on it. Sunlight strikes it. Months pass. Then, somehow, an apple appears.
We have become so accustomed to this that we call it agriculture.
Chesterton was less easily bored by reality. In Orthodoxy, while arguing that the universe is stranger than our familiar explanations make it appear, he wrote: “A tree grows fruit because it is a magic tree.”
He did not mean that trees were literally enchanted. He meant almost the opposite. We have invented words like nature, process, and law and then imagined that the words have explained the wonder.
But they have not.
You may describe every chemical process inside a fig tree and still be left with the astonishing fact that figs exist.
And this morning Christ gives us a fig tree that does not do the astonishing thing.
It simply stands there.
Three years pass.
No fruit.
The owner is not irrational when he says that it should be cut down. A vineyard is not a botanical waiting room. Trees occupy soil. They consume water. They cast shade. A fruit tree has a purpose.
“Why cumbereth it the ground?”
It is an uncomfortable question because Jesus is not really giving agricultural advice.
He is talking about us.
We are extraordinarily skilled at occupying ground.
We fill calendars. We answer messages. We attend meetings. We mow lawns. We repair machines. We buy groceries. We follow news. We drive children and grandchildren places. We work late. We worry. We make plans for things we will do when the present batch of things is finished.
Then another year passes.
The terrifying question is not whether we were busy.
It is whether there was fruit.
That distinction is particularly difficult for modern people because we can measure almost everything except the things that finally matter.
A computer can count the emails we sent.
It cannot count patience.
A bank can tell us precisely what we earned.
It cannot tell us whether we became generous.
A calendar can prove that every hour was occupied.
It cannot prove that any hour was well spent.
A telephone can report how many hours we looked at it.
It cannot tell us whether we truly saw the person sitting across the table.
The fig tree offers no statistics.
It has figs or it does not.
And yet the most surprising person in Christ’s parable is not the owner and not the tree.
It is the gardener.
“Lord, let it alone this year also.”
There is the Gospel hiding in the vineyard.
The gardener does not pretend that the tree has borne fruit. He does not redefine barrenness as success. He does not argue that figs are an oppressive expectation imposed upon innocent trees.
He agrees that something must change.
But he asks for time.
And notice what he proposes to do with that time.
He will dig.
He will fertilize.
He will disturb the soil around the roots.
That is important.
We often imagine mercy as God leaving us alone.
Christ imagines mercy as God digging around us.
That is a rather different experience.
The soil that has become hard must be broken.
The roots that have been starved must be fed.
Things may have to be moved.
Some comfort may have to be disturbed.
Repentance is not God’s announcement that he has finally become tired of us.
Repentance is the gardener arriving with a spade.
That changes the whole character of the Christian examination of conscience.
We can look at our failures in two ways.
One is despair.
Three years. No figs. Hopeless.
The other is presumption.
Three years. No figs. Apparently figs don’t matter.
Christ permits neither.
Instead he gives us something far more demanding and far more hopeful:
Another year.
Indeed, another morning.
We woke today.
That fact is so ordinary that most mornings we hardly notice it. We open our eyes and immediately begin thinking about coffee, weather, schedules, aches, appointments, unfinished work, and where we left the keys.
But perhaps waking is one of the greatest acts of divine patience.
The sun has risen again.
The world has not yet ended.
The tree is still standing.
The gardener has returned.
There is still time to apologize.
There is still time to forgive.
There is still time to say the prayer we have postponed.
There is still time to telephone the person we keep meaning to call.
There is still time to perform the small duty directly in front of us instead of dreaming about some heroic duty that Providence has conspicuously failed to assign us.
There is still time to become less irritable.
There is still time to become more grateful.
There is still time to give something away.
There is still time to look up.
This does not mean there will always be time.
That is precisely why the parable has force.
The gardener asks for another year, not an infinite succession of years.
Christian hope is not the belief that nothing matters because everything will somehow work out.
Christian hope is the belief that everything matters because grace has made change possible.
That is why Christ begins this Gospel with the blunt call to repentance.
The people around him want to discuss other people’s disasters. Pilate has killed Galileans. A tower has collapsed in Siloam. Surely, they think, there must be some moral equation by which suffering can be explained.
Jesus refuses the game.
Do not use another man’s tragedy as evidence of your virtue.
Look instead at your own life.
Repent.
And then, almost immediately, he tells them about a gardener pleading for a useless tree.
Judgment and mercy are not opposites here.
They meet beneath the branches.
The tree really ought to bear fruit.
And the gardener really loves the tree.
Perhaps that is one reason Chesterton’s “magic tree” belongs beside today’s Gospel.
Fruit itself is already astonishing.
A human being becoming patient may be more astonishing still.
A proud man apologizing is a miracle.
An old resentment finally surrendered is a miracle.
A selfish person discovering generosity is a miracle.
A frightened person choosing courage is a miracle.
A distracted person kneeling down to pray again is a miracle.
We become accustomed to these things and give them respectable names such as maturity, character development, reconciliation, or personal growth.
Perhaps heaven calls them fruit.
And perhaps the Christian life is much stranger than we allow ourselves to believe.
We are planted in a world we did not make, beneath a sun we did not ignite, breathing air we did not invent, surrounded by people we did not create, possessing gifts we did not earn, given another morning we were never promised.
Then God asks us to do something with it.
Not necessarily something spectacular.
A fig tree is not asked to produce cathedrals.
It is asked to produce figs.
There is enormous freedom in that.
We need not spend today trying to become somebody else.
We need only ask what fruit ought to grow on the particular tree God planted here.
Perhaps today it is patience.
Perhaps courage.
Perhaps honest work.
Perhaps a difficult telephone call.
Perhaps forgiveness.
Perhaps silence.
Perhaps laughter at the breakfast table.
Perhaps prayer said attentively for once.
Perhaps simply doing the next good thing.
Outside, somewhere, an ordinary tree is preparing for winter. Its branches may already look empty. The leaves are turning, falling, gathering along roads and fences.
It would be easy to mistake such a tree for something finished.
But beneath the ground, the roots remain.
The gardener knows this.
And this morning, wonderfully and undeservedly, the tree is still standing.
We have been given another day.
Let us bear something good upon it.
Carry It Into the Day
Do not merely be glad that the tree still stands. Ask what fruit this extra day was given to produce.
Chesterton Radio