Parable of the Fig Tree
Well, yes and no; and in HaMashiyach is yes. When I consider my standing in HaMashiyach, I believe that what I see as "me" is not who I really am in the mind of God. The image I have of myself is an idolatrous representation. I don’t have the proper perspective to judge who I am, in Truth. What I understand to be me is actually a wall with a window, through which I can glimpse the structure of who I actually am. Every screenshot the rational mind might take as it peeks through my spiritual eyes is, in fact, a brazen image: dead, lifeless, impotent, powerless. I might bat my physical eyes in satisfaction, but blinking, the image fades; and I’m unsatisfied, hungry for the transformation I understand to be required, but cannot fathom.
As the window appears to my conscious, now, I have little interest in self-knowledge. I wish I could say I have no more interest in knowledge of self; but were I to make that claim--the claim that I’m free of sin, of error—I would be a liar, and Truth has no part in my conclusion. Admitting that, having received the Holy Spirit baptism 54 years ago, I am as yet imperfect is a wonderful step forward.
As an apostle wrote, he didn't even judge himself, lamenting “miserable wretch that I am, who shall deliver me from this death?” The deliverer cannot come if we see ourselves as having been delivered. How then, can I who admit to being blind when it comes to understanding my own stature in the eyes of HaShem? How can I perceive myself? This parable is my answer: the clearest view of my true self I can manage is the obverse of Solomon’s Song, in which he says that his love is as one peeking through the lattice, peering through the window.
Now, “obverse” may not be clear to some, so I’ll restate it this way. Looking at myself with sinful eyes, with erroneous vision, I see an impenetrable wall in which there is a small window. Trying to look out the window, however, my eyes are distracted by the window frame, a distraction that works tirelessly to recapture and lock my vision not on the window, but upon the wall by which the window is framed. It’s the window that gives the view I want, not the window frame or the looming wall of darkness in which it is situated. If I can keep peeking, peering through the window, measuring what is revealed by that opening as I walk in HaMashiyach, my footsteps will hasten me to the place where I am walking in HaMashiyach, not after the Messiah.
Should I satisfy myself with glimpses of Truth, content in the truths I discover while examining who I am with the eyes of a creature, not the eyes of HaMashiyach, I may achieve a kind of yoga: a kind of full-fledged self-knowledge; but try as I might, I will never understand myself as seen in the eyes of the Creator. Those who spend their lives trying to master themselves (I’m fifty-four in the Spirit and eighty in the flesh; and so, I’ve nothing to boast about): the masters of self are as spiritual cave dwellers. A lifetime of spelunking has taught me what the scripture plainly states: that, in me as a creature, there is no good thing.
How is it, then, that I am continually distracted by the wall standing where it ought not, by the antichrist within, striving to claim my right to a holy place in HaMashiyach, hoping to find some good thing I can use to drive out all the bad things? I am like the fig tree, covered with leaves of promise, but fruitless. Reformed self acts like a supplanted. It will block any view through the window if it finds satisfaction in the light filtering through the leaves of the unseasonable fig tree the view is blocked, I can continue to court a curse against my true self by persisting in narcissistic meditation, or I can open to HaMashiyach’s blessings by heeding those little shifts that return my focus to the window view. If I hold to the window, then I walk with Messiah in HaMashiyach.
Holding to the view through the window is not something I can accomplish that on my own. Experience has taught me that, twisting myself this way and that to gain a clearer view ends one way: the wheels will come off, and I'll have more than my fill of the mess that threatens to overtake me. The saying, “pulling myself up by my bootstraps” is a cruel joke. Good luck with that; for I will be certain to lose my balance, falling God-knows-where!
No: to hold the view through the window, I need the help of the Deliverer: not some magical intervention, but the inward touch that reassures me of the grace called forgiveness that’s the gift of God, whose mercy endures forever. When I recognize that the seemingly honest impulses from my wicked heart to pass judgment on the iterations, I call myself are stumbling blocks, then I might be judged as ready to see through the window, once again. Should the view be restored in its fullness in answer to my call, the view through the window of is seen for what it is: the way of escape. Holding fast to what I perceive of HaMashiyach from that perspective, I then experience the glorious liberty that come from the walk with Messiah; for I am then as HaMashiyach, and the heavenly Mashiyach, fights for me, as I hold my peace.
Yes, I can learn more about what a stinker I am if I lock my attention on the belly button; but everything I learn there actually builds up the wall, bolstering it, distracting me from the business of the Temple made without human hands. “Learn what this means, I will have mercy, not sacrifice.” For if I cease from my own works, in which I constantly judge myself, the mercy of HaShem will enlarge my heart, opening the window so that the great, speckled bird can take wing, joining HaMashiyach where he is. I must honestly desire to ride the magic carpet of prayer out, through the window, as HaMashiyach beckons. And as he beckons, I will discover lasting remedies for proclivities I'd rather not think about, anyway; for I'll be taught by my dance with HaMashiyach, Immanuel.
If we give no thought to what we shall say, nor what we shall do as we pass through the window, we the glorious liberty of the Sons of God. To meditate in this manner is to perform the dance of Miryam Magdala. Dancing with HaMashiyach like the spinning Sufis of Iran, the seven foul spirits that anchored us in the wall of flesh will be left behind; for we tango with HaMashiyach on the rungs of Jacob's Ladder, and we must abandon ourselves in his embrace.
All that we are leads us to that point. In him is yea, not yea and nay. All things are lawful if they are expedient, if they edify, and if they do not involve submitting ourselves or forcing others to fall under the power of any, whether it be thing or person. We must understand the commandments as prophecies rather than dictums; but those prophecies cannot be fulfilled so long as we entertain delusions that we’re equipped to lead in that dance. Following HaMashiyach’s lead, we are transfigured, not reformed. When the wall or those who trust in the wall threaten to cut in, waltzing us away from the Lord, then we must hold our peace while the Messiah who came in the room of HaMashiyach writes in the sand with his finger all the while the separatists and the theologians make accusation.
Yes, we are to come out from among them and be separate in our walk upon Earth. But the proper kind of separation cannot be accomplished by an act of will. No man can separate himself from himself, gaining freedom to join with HaMashiyach. Not a single one of us: the Father draws us into the Sons of Man.
The fig tree is cursed because, in passing it, we trace the path to Yerushaliem that ends with tables being overturned, parasites must be driven out, and so much more, requiring us to return to Beit-AnYah, the Place of Longing Spirits. Anything one can do on one's own is just the shadow of things coming along the road to Gulgolta.
Making the way straight, the Baptist teaches, "He must increase; I must decrease." Yeah. Yahuchanan could not accomplish this by pulling on his bootstraps or by loosening the strings of what he could see of the HaMashiyach’s sandals. We can exercise mortal wills to resist the weight of our mortal shoes, but that's a futile struggle. Sure, the devil will flee, laughing as we tug against the gravity of our own mass; but he'll be back. HaMashiyach will wash our feet if we let him. He will say to us, this is the way you should go: not forever, perhaps; but on this day! Walk in it. If on another day HaMashiyach should point to an adjoining road, sending that way on that day, why should it be a problem?!
HaMashiyach has the perspective to know the way we must go when we must do so. It is for us to walk in it. Forgetting who we are should be as an afterthought, while we walk as men; for the day is coming when what we are now shall be as though it had never been. If we must boast, let us boast in HaMashiyach, who not only tells us which way we should go and what we should do, but also what we shall say: to the end that all shall know him, even as all are known by him; and he will fill all in all, face upon face, upon faces.
Amen.
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