I have always felt that it was important to speak my mind. Right or wrong, sometimes things just need to be said, and that day was no different. Now the area of Galilee was a good bit of ground to cover on foot and contained a number of different towns, but there was not much that could happen without everybody in the region hearing about it. That particular day, as I remember, was particularly hot, and I decided to take a little refuge in the shade of a fig tree. That particular tree, my grandfather had planted the year I was born. As I reclined in its shade, I realized this fig tree was symbolic of my life, my prosperity, and I could “feel” the blessing of God watching over me.
Figuring I had spent enough time avoiding my duties, and filling my stomach with a few not quite ripe figs and cool water from my jug, I started for the top of the hill toward my next task. Looking to the crest of the hill as I walked, I could see, blurred by the waves of heat rising into the air, a dark figure briskly walking toward me. When I saw who it was, I could not believe my eyes. It was Philip, from Bethsaida! “Philip, what are you doing here?” “Oh, I bet it is for Joseph’s wedding in a couple days, isn’t it?”
Catching his breath, he began to tell me about some fellow that supposedly was the fulfillment of all the prophets and Moses. I had heard this type of thing before, and if it were not for the fact that I respected Philip and his friendship, I would have laughed him right back across the Sea of Galilee. “Where is he from?” I ask, as I turned back toward the shade of my fig tree, attempting to sound interested. When Philip replied, I could not contain myself any longer. “Nazareth! Nazareth! Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” I looked Philip straight in the eye, grinning ear to ear. He was unfazed, and simply turned saying, “Come and see!” I stood there for a moment, the coolness of the fig tree shade called me to linger longer, but for some reason…I followed.
I could barely keep up with Philip; perhaps I had gotten soft over the past year since I had seen Philip last. Philip, finally waiting for me, walked the last 50 feet, or so, with me, toward a small group of men. This group was nothing amazing to look at, and a number of them stank of fish. All of a sudden, one of the men said, “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit!” I replied, “How do you know me?” The man answered, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.” For whatever reason, I knew just then, this was no ordinary man. This was not because he was too far away to have seen that I was under my fig tree, or that he was just an extraordinarily good guesser, but when he said he “saw me” I knew that feeling. It was the feeling that I had while in the shade of that tree; it was the “blessing of God watching over me.” I knew in that moment that my life was going to change, and that I may never get the opportunity to recline in the shade of my simple prosperity again.
Over the next few days, that man, Jesus, did the miraculous right before our eyes; turning water into wine. He invited me to come along side of him and learn of him. I followed him, not on extraordinary adventures and not into battle, but I followed him into the everyday life of people. Yes, there were crowds and even mobs, but there were also many more times of Jesus and individuals. I watch him spending time with fishermen and children, I watched him feed the hungry, and care for the widow. And Yes, he would teach us on the hillsides, sea sides, and in the houses, but he taught us most as we laughed together, worked together, played together, and cried together. Jesus not only told us how to live our lives in the light of God’s love, he showed us. He showed us the Kingdom of Heaven, in life and in death.
That day, when Jesus said that he saw me under my fig tree, I believed. I said “Rabbi, You are the Son of God; You are the King of Israel.” It was something that just needed to be said. I still love the feeling of taking refuge from the sun under the big leaves of a fig tree, and I love the sweet taste of that fruit on my tongue, but the prosperity that I forfeited for following my King and Savior does not compare with the glorious riches, refuge and return I have gained.
NOTE: The preceding is a fictitious rendering of the discipleship experiences of the disciple Bartholomew. For the purposes of this work, the position is held that Bartholomew, mentioned only in the synoptic Gospels, is the same individual as that of the Nathanael mentioned in the Gospel of St. John (1:45-51).
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