still more forced interpretation of those who read the clause interrogatively, viz. “ for was it not the time of figs ?” and the no less objectionable explanation of xa:pds in the sense of a favourable season, for in that case the season, not the tree, would have deserved the malediction; or in the significatien of favourable weather, as Olshausen., All these, however ingenious they may appear, are evasive shifts and no more. But, discounting them, we find an interpretation other than that first given and simpler, which, (2) understanding the reference to be to @ precocious or premature foliation, takes the words in their plain and natural sense. It was not the time or season of figs—“denn es war nicht Feigenzeit,” as Fritzsche properly renders it; but this tree antedated the season by putting forth its leaves prematurely. The appearance of the leaves was unseasonably early ; still, as their appearance implied the prior existence of fruit, the passer-by was thus invited to approach the tree, and induced to expect and hope for fruit. The show of leaves, though not the season of the year, favoured this expectation; accordingly he came, if therefore (&pa), as it was reasonable to expect from the tree having leaves, he shall find anything in it (é adr@) within the compass of this umbrageous tree, among its leaves and branches. But though he came (és” aithy) close upon it, right up to it, yet, notwithstanding his nearness to it, and the narrowness with which he inspected it, he found nothing but leaves. 38. Symbol of profession without performance. According to either of the explanations above given, either (1) or (2), especially perhaps the latter, that large fig tree, with its fine foliage and luxuriant leaves, occupying, as it did, a prominent position near the wayside, and visible far off by reason of its grand proportions and magnificent appearance, was nothing better than a huge practical lie, an embodied falsehood, a palpable untruth. That tree made a promise, but it broke it; it held out a hope, but it disappointed it; it professed much, hut performed nothing. Never was there a more striking symbol of any people than that fig tree was of the Jews. They had enjoyed covenant promises and covenant privileges and covenant hopes, and their professions corresponded therewith. These were their leaves, but they had no real fruitfulness. They occupied a high and promi- nent position; theirs were a very fruitful hillside—the horn of the son of oil—an exceedingly fertile soil, glorious fostering sunshine, and rich refreshing dews; “ they were Israelites; to whom pertained the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the giving of the Law, and the service of God, and the promises ;” but they proved themselves unworthy, shamefully unworthy, of these favours. They had command- ments and ordinances; they made loud professions and long prayers; they were strict in certain religious observances, and scrupulous in their ritual. In some things they went beyond the letter of the Law, for they tithed rue and anise and cummin ; but, in matters of much greater magnitude and really enjoined by the Law, they fell short, and were in fact woefully deficient. God “looked for judgment, but behold oppression ; for righteousness, but behold a cry.” They called themselves children of Abraham, but they had none of that precious faith that so distinguished Abraham. ‘They were proud of Moses, their great lawgiver, but they attended not to the Prophet to whom Moses pointed as greater than himself, and to whom he commanded them to hearken, They
rofessed themselves expectants of Messiah, but when he came to them they received tin not, They were no better than the dark world around—“a world that knew not when he came, even God’s eternal Son.” We need not trace further the application of this symbolic fig tree to the Jews; let us seo its application to Gentiles also, 4. Adum- brative of Gentile as well as Jew. There may be the leaves of profession without any corresponding fruitfulness in the case of Gentiles as weil as of Jews. This symbolic fig tree may have a personal application to ourselves. We may profess Christ to please men, to keep up appearances, to maintain a respectable position, or advance in some way our worldly prospects. We may rest in a mere form; we may have a form of godliness without the power; we may have a name to live, and yet be spiritually dead; we may be content with the outward visible sign, and care nothing for the inward spiritual grace. This was the complaint of God against his professing people in the days of Ezekiel: “They come unto thee as the people cometh, and they sit before thee ws my people, and they hear thy words, but they will not do them: for with their mouth they show much love, but their heart goeth after their covetousness. And, lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument * for they hear thy words, but they do them not.” Here ia
150 THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO ST. MARK. (cu. xi 1—33.