It was only right for Jesus to teach this rule when he had the opportunity. But he was wrong to apply it to the letter when it was inopportune, as in the case of the fig tree mentioned earlier. He was walking along a country lane when he began to feel hungry, and spotting a green fig tree in the distance, he went to see if it had any fruit on it. But coming closer, he found nothing but leaves, because it was too early for figs. Whereupon Jesus said to the tree, No more fruit will grow on your branches, and at that very moment the fig tree dried up. Mary Magdalene, who was with him, said, You must give to those in need but ask nothing of those with nothing to give. Filled with remorse, Jesus tried to revive the fig tree, but it was quite dead.
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A MISTY MORNING. THE FISHERMAN RISES FROM HIS MAT, looks at the whiteness through a chink in the door, and says to his wife, i'm not taking the boat out today, in this kind of mist even the fish lose their way. All the other fishermen, from one shore to another, echo his sentiment, using more or less the same words, they are puzzled by the rare phenomenon of mist at this time of year. Only one man, who is not a fisherman by profession although he lives and works with fishermen, goes to his front door and sees that this is the day he has been waiting for. Looking up at the dull sky, he says, i'm going fishing. At his shoulder, Mary Magdalene asks, Must you, and Jesus replied, i've waited a long time for this day to come. Won't you eat something. Eyes are fasting when they open in the morning, but he embraced her and said, At last I will learn who I am and what is expected of me, then with surprising confidence, for he could not even see his own feet in the mist, he descended the slope to the water's edge, climbed into one of the boats moored there, and began rowing out toward the invisible space in the middle of the lake. The noise of the oars scraping against the sides of the boat and the bubbling and rippling of water around the wood blades carried over the surface, it kept awake those fishermen whose wives had told them, If you can't go out fishing, at least try to get some sleep. Restless and uneasy, the villagers stared at the impenetrable mist in the direction of the lake and waited for the noise of the oars to stop, so they could return to their homes and secure their doors with keys, crossbars, and padlocks, while knowing that if he in the mist is who they think he is and he decides to blow this way, a puff of air from him would knock them down. The mist allows Jesus to pass, but his eyes can see no farther than the tip of the oars and the stern, with its simple plank that serves as a bench. The rest is a blank wall, at first dim and gray, then, as the boat approaches its destination, a diffused light turns the mist white and lustrous, it quivers as if searching for a sound in the silence. The boat, moving into a circle of light, comes to a halt, it has reached the center of the lake. God is sitting at the stern, on the bench.
Unlike the first time, He does not appear as a cloud or column of smoke, which in this weather would be lost in the mist. This time He is a big man, elderly, a great flowing beard over His chest, head uncovered, hair hanging loose, a broad and powerful face, fleshy lips which barely move when He begins to speak. He is dressed like a wealthy Jew, in a long magenta tunic under a blue cape with sleeves and gold braiding, the thick sandals on His feet are those of one who walks a great deal, whose habits are anything but sedentary. When He is gone, we will ask ourselves, What was His hair like, unable to remember whether it was white, black, or brown, judging by His age it must have been white, but there are some whose hair takes a long time to turn white, and He might be one of them. Jesus raised the oars and rested them inside the boat, as if preparing for a lengthy conversation, and simply said, Here I am. Slowly and methodically, God arranged the folds of the cape over His knees and added, Well, here we are. The voice suggested a smile, though His lips hardly moved, only the long hairs of His mustache and beard quivered like the vibration of a bell. Jesus said, I've come to find out who I am and what I must do henceforth to fulfill my part of the covenant. God said, These are two questions, let us take them one at a time, where would you like to start. With the first, said Jesus, and asked again, Who am I. Don't you know. Well, I thought I knew, I thought I was my father's son. Which father do you mean. My father, the carpenter Joseph, son of Eli, or was it Jacob, for I'm no longer certain. You mean the carpenter Joseph whom they crucified. I didn't know there was any other. A tragic mistake on the part of the Romans, that poor father died innocent, having committed no crime. You said that father, so there is another. I'm proud of you, I can see you're an intelligent lad and perceptive. There was no need for intelligence, I was told by the devil. Are you in league with the devil. No, I'm not in league with the devil, it was the devil who sought me out. And what did you hear from his lips. That I am Your son. Nodding His head slowly in agreement, God told him, Yes, you are my son. But how can a man be the son of God. If you're the son of God, you are not a man. But I am a man, I breathe, I eat, I sleep, and I love like a man, therefore I am a man and will die as a man. In your case I wouldn't be too sure. What do you mean. That's the second question, but we have time, how did you answer the devil when he said you were my son. I didn't answer, I simply waited for the day when I would meet You, then I drove Satan out of the possessed man he was tormenting, the man called himself Legion and said he was many. Where are they now. I have no idea. You said you exorcised those demons. Surely You know better than I that when demons are driven out of a body, nobody knows where they go. And what makes you think I'm familiar with the devil's affairs. Being God, You must know everything. Up to a point, only up to a point. What point is that. The point where it becomes interesting to pretend I do not know. At least You must know how I came to be Your son and for what reason. I can see you are somewhat more confident, not to say impatient, than when I first met you. I was a mere boy then and rather shy, but I'm grown now. And you're not afraid. No. You will be, fear always comes, even to a son of God. You mean you have others. What others. Sons, of course. No, I only needed one. And how did I come to be Your son. Didn't your mother tell you. Does my mother know. I sent an angel to explain things to her, I thought she told you. And when was this angel with my mother. Let Me see, unless I'm mistaken it was after you left home for the second time and before you miraculously changed the water into wine at Cana. So, Mother knew and never said a word, when I told her I saw You in the desert, she didn't believe me, but she must have realized I was telling the truth after the angel's appearance, yet she did not confide in me. You know what women are like, after all you live with one, they have their little sensitivities and scruples. What sensitivities and scruples. Well, let Me explain, I mixed My seed with that of your father before you were conceived, it was the easiest way and the least conspicuous. If the seeds were mixed, how can You be sure I am Your son. I agree that it's usually unwise to be certain about anything, but I'm certain, there is some advantage in being God. And why did You want a son. I didn't have a son in heaven, so I had to arrange for one on earth, which is not all that original, even in religions with gods and goddesses, who can easily give one another children, we have seen some of them descend to earth, probably for a change of scenery, and at the same time they benefit mankind with the creation of heroes and other wonders. And this son who I am, why did You want him. Not, needless to say, for a change of scenery. Why, then. Because I needed someone to help Me here on earth. But surely, being God, You don't need help. That is the second question.