The Memorial of Saint Anthony Mary Claret
But to each one of us, the grace was given according to the measure of the gift of Christ. Therefore he says, "When he ascended on high, He led captivity captive, And gave gifts to people."
Now this, "He ascended ", what is it but that he also first descended into the lower parts of the earth? He who descended is the one who also ascended far above all the heavens, that he might fill all things.
He gave some to be apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, shepherds and teachers; For the perfecting of the saints, to the work of serving, to the building up of the body of Christ, Until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a full grown man, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, That we may no longer be children, tossed back and forth and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the trickery of men, in craftiness, after the wiles of error; But speaking truth in love, we may grow up in all things into him who is the head, Christ, From whom all the body, being fitted and knit together through that which every joint supplies, according to the working in measure of each individual part, makes the body increase to the building up of itself in love.
I was glad when they said to me, "Let's go to the Lord's house!" Our feet are standing within your gates, Jerusalem!
Jerusalem is built as a city that is compact together, Where the tribes go up, even the Lord's tribes, According to an ordinance for Israel, To give thanks to the Lord's name.
Where the tribes go up, even the Lord's tribes, According to an ordinance for Israel, To give thanks to the Lord's name. For there are set thrones for judgment, The thrones of David's house.
Now there were some present at the same time who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. Jesus answered them, "Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered such things? I tell you, no, but unless you repent, you will all perish in the same way. Or those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them — do you think that they were worse offenders than all the men who dwell in Jerusalem? I tell you, no, but, unless you repent, you will all perish in the same way."
He spoke this parable. "A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came seeking fruit on it and found none. He said to the vine dresser, 'Behold, these three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and found none. Cut it down! Why does it waste the soil?' He answered, 'Lord, leave it alone this year also, until I dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit, fine; but if not, after that, you can cut it down.'"
We celebrate today the memorial of Saint Anthony Mary Claret, a 19th-century Spanish bishop and missionary who founded the Claretian Missionaries and was known for his tireless preaching and deep pastoral heart — a man who understood, in his bones, that the Church exists to bear fruit.
And that's exactly where these readings meet us.
Paul's letter to the Ephesians gives us this remarkable image of the Church as a body — not a bureaucracy, not a building, but a living organism where every joint, every part, contributes to something larger than itself. Apostles, prophets, evangelists, shepherds, teachers — these aren't honorary titles. They're functions. They're the ways grace moves through human hands and voices into the world. Notice how Paul frames all of this around growth — growing up, building up, filling up. The Church isn't meant to stay still.
Which brings us to the fig tree.
There's a tenderness in the gardener's response that we might rush past. The owner is ready to cut the tree down — three years, no fruit, done. But the gardener says: *wait*. Give me one more season. Let me dig around it, loosen the soil, add some nourishment. Then we'll see. This is not a story about avoiding consequences forever. Jesus is clear — repentance is urgent, not optional. But underneath the urgency is something generous: the God who keeps working on us, aerating the hardened ground around our roots, giving us another ordinary Tuesday to turn around.
Consider how often we feel like that fig tree — aware of our own fruitlessness, half-expecting the axe. The gospel says the gardener is still kneeling in the dirt beside us.
What part of your life feels like unbroken, hardened soil right now? Where might God be doing quiet, unseen work to help something grow? And what would it mean, today, to cooperate with that?