Good morning! It is a wintry day here in these Virginia woods, the perfect weather to continue our journey of waiting for the Solstice…waiting for the light to return. As you remember, last week we talked about a rich and warm Medieval thought: As we humans wait for the return of the light, as we are tucked up warm beside the fire, we are aware that all the rest of creation waits with us. The minerals, the plants, the animals wait in hushed anticipation for light and warmth to arise again. We are moving closer each day to this pivotal moment in earth’s yearly cycle. Soon, we will step into the shortest day followed by the longest night. Yet, miraculous as it may seem, this is the turning point: at the deepest winter hour….light is born into the darkness. There are many traditions and stories that image this transformation for us. But in medieval Europe this moment is imagined as the birth of a child, the Child of Light. Last week I told you the story of the mineral realm, and how this new baby was so delighted by the sparkling minerality of the snowflakes that he laughed out loud. His laughter brought the snowflakes into a new realm, that of the plants: Their crystalline hearts bust into bloom. The old man stood , in the middle of winter, his beard full of tiny white roses! Today I’ll tell you the story of the Plant Realm; a story that pictures the plant kingdom rising to the animal. This is the story of the Little Fig Tree.
The Fig Tree
Once upon a time, there was a little fig tree. She grew happily on a hill, close beside a stable. She loved her hillside, and all the busy goings-on at the stable close by. In the spring, she watched as the shepherd maiden brought the new lambs and their mothers out into the green meadow, to eat the soft spring grasses. In summertime, she saw the shepherd maiden bring the flock up higher on the hill, to catch the cool breezes. At autumn’s harvest, she breathed the fragrant perfume of fresh-mown hay, as bales were stacked into the stable for the coming cold. In winter, she thrilled to the silent snow, shimmering under the light of the moon.
She knew everything there was to know, about life on her hillside. And so, you can imagine how very surprised she was one frosty winter night. The shepherd maiden had brought fresh hay, the animals had been fed, and the stable door was locked that the animals be snug for the night. All was as it should be. Until, surprisingly, the innkeeper led an old man, a young woman and a little gray donkey out to the stable. “What on earth is this?” she wondered to herself.
The innkeeper returned to the house, but the other people stayed inside the stable. Humans did not sleep in the stable for the night, except perhaps an occasional shepherd, on a warm summer’s eve. Surely these people couldn’t mean to sleep here! Humans had such thin skin, not properly thick and rough, like her excellent bark, or even sensibly furred, like her friends, the animals. How would they survive the cold? She wondered these things as she watched from her place close by.
Suddenly a brilliant light was kindled, right there inside her stable! This light began to pour out through all the cracks between the boards, reflecting off the glistening snow. What was happening in there? She became ever and ever more curious. Soon the stable door opened, as the old man wrapped tight against the cold, began searching on the ground for something. He made his way up the hillside, stopping finally to bend down again and again below a giant old fir tree. When he returned, the little fig tree saw his arms full of pine boughs. She knew he was bringing the wood back to the stable. She determined that this time when he opened the door, she would stretch out her neck and peek inside. She wanted to see what this was all about, and where that dazzling light came from! But when he opened the door, stretch as hard as she might, she could not quite see inside. Now what would she do? She became more curious than ever. She just had to find out!
In the distance, she heard the tiny sound of flute music wafting over the frozen fields. Soon, she heard the happy voices of the neighboring shepherds, singing their rowdy evening songs. When she knew they, also, were coming toward the stable, she was thrilled! When they opened the door, all she needed to do was stretch a little farther, to see all of this wonderment in the night. She swayed a little in the breeze, waiting in anticipation. Finally, they arrived all breathless, and scrambling along. When the door opened, she stretched her farthest, and even a little more….but still she could see nothing.
Then she did something that no other of all the green-growing-things in the world had ever done! She let go of all the stones and crystals, which she had held so tightly with her root-y little toes. She pulled one brown and bark-y foot up above the earth, and then she pulled up the other. Then step by step, roots and all, she walked to the stable door.
And can you imagine what she saw? She saw that all the glowing light came from the shining face of a tiny new baby. There, in the manger, lay a fresh sweet baby! She was so happy to see this child of light, that she gave him his first birthday present. She bowed low before him, and offered him all of her round ripe figs. Every one smiled at the baby, at the delicious present, and especially at the little fig tree. It was a very happy night indeed.