Parable of the Fruit

There was a tree, plain and unbecoming that bore the finest yellow fruit.  When the tree was first found in a dark corner of a remote forest, those who tasted it could hardly believe such a wonder had passed so long unknown to the larger world.  Seeds were brought back to the city and the tree could soon be found in all manner of places.  Some who tasted it were glad to have tasted such a wonder.  Others refused because in shape and form it was unlike anything they had eaten.  Some found it too sweet and didn’t think it right to take anything so different from their blander daily fare.  Some who passed by the tree were disgusted by its ungainly appearance and despised the fruit.  “How could anything good come from such a tree?” they asked.  Others said, “God would not place a good fruit on a bad tree.”  There were some food enthusiasts who praised the fruit highly, grew their own trees and enjoyed eating it in the presence of others because they had heard how fine it was, but could hardly stand the smell of it and wouldn’t touch it when eating alone.  Stranger still, there were scientists who made the plant and its fruit the object of exacting study and have never eaten the fruit.  Indeed, most people never touched it and found it little more than an ugly curiosity.  There are a few however, who treasure the fruit and the pleasure of its taste, though most people still prefer potatoes.

Passover

With nothing better to do in a small southwestern country town on a Saturday I attended my first Passover Seder today. To my surprise, the impressive local brick Congregation Beth Israel building has stood for 75 years, though the community is now very small. There were perhaps twenty of us at the meal. As there was no rabbi a female lay leader read many of the blessings and we took turns reading from the Passover story out of The Family Seder, published in 1967. We sang some songs, one of which will definitely stay with me, expressing thanks that if God had only delivered us from Egypt we would be thankful and satisfied, as we would had he only given us manna, or given us the promised land, etc. How strange it was for me to find exegesis and liturgy to be united, and very satisfying, with the haggadah exploring meanings and readings of the stories and rituals. Must I also confess it was troubling as the twin shadows of Cold War and Zionist rhetoric loomed over the rituals in this particular edition of the Seder, everything an emblem of Western political liberalism and its insatiable demand for sacrifice? This and the final prayer for God's fiery vengeance on Israel's enemies (the only amen that failed me) had a bitter taste and when I came home to read John 19-21 made the drama of the text so real for me. God do not let me blame them or anyone, their failings are ours and when we sin we crucify Christ anew. God have mercy on me and all of us.

I had attended a stations of the cross at the Catholic church last week as well, and while the pain and compassion at what Christ suffered was sharp and present, the whole pageant seemed so unreal and distant from the heart of the Passion. How grateful I am for Jesus, who died for us. By God's grace, may his atonement heal us all and the whole earth. Oh thank you God.