Reflection 12: Exposing the Barrenness, Cleansing the Temple, and Living in Faith
Be-LOVE-d Pilgrims,
Today, I’d like to offer a different approach as we continue to deepen our relationship with God, walking alongside Jesus through His final days, allowing His story to mirror our own inner journey. We’ll be using an ancient Christian practice I love called Lectio Divina, which helps us connect with Heirloom Sacred Scriptures on a deeper, more personal level.
Lectio Divina, meaning "divine reading," invites us to engage with God’s Word in a way that nourishes our soul and guides our spiritual path.
This practice is meant to be done in a quiet, peaceful space where we can reflect and truly connect with God. We’re not analyzing the Scriptures, but opening to a relational encounter with them. (Note: You can use any passage, and many people find it helpful to keep a journal as they walk through the process.)
Here’s how it works:
LECTIO (Reading): Start by reading the passage slowly and attentively. The goal is not to analyze or dissect the words, but to simply receive them. Allow the words to speak to your heart as you read through them, maybe even more than once.
MEDITATIO (Meditation): After reading, pause to reflect. What stands out to you? What touches your heart? How does the passage relate to your own life? This is a time to let the words settle in, letting them guide your thoughts and emotions.
ORATIO (Prayer): Now, respond to God in prayer. This could be a prayer of gratitude, a question for understanding, or just a conversation about what you’ve reflected on. Let your heart speak freely, asking for clarity or insight into the passage.
CONTEMPLATIO (Contemplation): The final step is to rest in God's presence. This is a time for silent prayer, where you let go of words and simply be with God. It’s a space to listen deeply and receive the communion that God offers through His Word.
I’ve shared some reflections from my own Lectio Divina practice this morning below. You can try with the Scriptures for Holy Monday and Tuesday (Mark 11:12-26). Take your time with it, using the four stages above to guide your experience.
Wishing you a blessed Holy Monday and Tuesday!
With love and peace,
Swaady
Today and tomorrow’s Scripture, Mark 11:12–26, invites us into a triad of moments that together form a mirror for our own inner lives. In three distinct yet interwoven parts: the cursing of the fig tree, the cleansing of the temple, and Jesus’ teaching on prayer, we are drawn into a deeper examination of our hearts, our habits, and our hidden places.
The fig tree, full of leaves but with no fruit, represents the parts of us that might look good on the outside but are empty or disconnected within. Jesus sees beyond the surface and calls us to do the same, inviting us to grow in something true and life-giving.
Next, we see the temple. What was revealed symbolically in the fig tree is now acted out visibly and forcefully in the temple. The temple, our inner temple, a place meant to be sacred had become noisy and filled with distractions, even exploitation. Jesus steps in to clear the space. Sometimes, we need the same in our lives. We all carry things, habits, thoughts, and patterns, that clutter the space where God wants to dwell. Clearing them out might feel unsettling, but it’s ultimately liberating. It restores sacred space, both physically and spiritually, to its rightful purpose as a place of divine encounter.
Finally, after confronting emptiness and cleansing corruption, Jesus points to the spiritual core: faith that is rooted in God, prayer that moves mountains, and forgiveness that clears the heart for divine intimacy. After exposing what’s barren and making room for the true, He shows us the way forward. The Teaching on Prayer and Forgiveness offers an inner pathway of transformation: trust God, speak honestly in prayer, and keep our hearts free from the burden of resentment.
Together, these three scenes form a single arc: exposing barrenness, cleansing distortion, and revealing the way of authentic spiritual power. It is a call to return beyond form and tradition, into the heart of God, where faith, integrity, and love bear true fruit. These three moments together invite us to check in with ourselves. What parts of our lives appear full but are lacking in substance? What needs to be cleared to make room for something deeper? Where is God inviting us to grow in faith, honesty, and forgiveness?
Part 1: exposing pretense, when leaves hide what’s missing
“The next day as they were leaving Bethany, Jesus was hungry. Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to find out if it had any fruit. When he reached it, he found nothing but leaves, because it was not the season for figs. Then he said to the tree, “May no one ever eat fruit from you again.”
“As Jesus was going to Jerusalem with the Apostles, He was hungry, but it seemed to me that it was after the conversion of the Jews and the accomplishment of His own mission. He sighed for the hour when His Passion would be over, for He knew its immensity and dreaded it in advance. He went to a fig tree on the road and looked up at it. When He saw no fruit, but only leaves upon it, He cursed it that it should wither and never more bear fruit. And thus, did He say, would it happen to those that would not acknowledge Him. ”
In Mark 11:12-14, we encounter an image that speaks to the heart of authenticity and inner fruitfulness: the fig tree. A fig tree, full of leaves, catches Jesus’ attention as He’s walking and feeling hungry. At first glance, it appears full of promise, its leaves lush and vibrant, creating the illusion of health and vitality. But as Jesus approaches, He finds that the tree has no fruit, nothing to offer. The beauty of the leaves is a mere façade, masking the emptiness within.
This image speaks to how we often move through life, putting energy into how we appear. We often focus on how we appear to others or to the world. We dress ourselves in outward displays of success, beauty, composed, spiritually grounded, or emotionally strong. We cultivate an image of having it all together, while something essential within us remains untouched. We may project a sense of having it all together, even when the deeper fruits of our inner life are missing. These qualities can be beautiful and meaningful in themselves, yet beneath their surface, behind the fullness of the leaves, there may be tender places within us quietly asking for attention, spaces that long for deeper care and truth.
Jesus, in His hunger, approaches the tree. It is in His approach that we see the profound longing of God for each of us. God is constantly searching for the fruit of our lives. He is hungry for us. He desires something authentic, something real, something that reflects His love and His presence. God is not fooled by the leaves; God is not fooled by the outer appearance of our lives. He sees the true condition of our hearts.
When Jesus finds that the fig tree bears no fruit, He responds by cursing it. His response is a strong gesture that often feels hard to sit with. It’s maybe a way of bringing attention to what’s happening beneath the surface, a wake-up call. The tree’s lack of fruit reveals its failure to live in alignment with its true purpose. Just as a fig tree is meant to bear figs, we are meant to bear the fruits of the Spirit. The fig tree, despite its outward appearance, does not fulfill its divine purpose, and in the same way, we can live outwardly "beautiful" lives while lacking the deeper fruits that reflect our true connection with God.
It’s not always easy to look closely at our inner lives. There might be areas we’ve avoided, patterns we’ve gotten used to, or longings we’ve silenced. But this passage gently invites reflection. It asks us to consider where the fruit is, and where it might be missing. When we focus solely on what others see, we miss the point of why we are truly here. We are called to be more than just a beautiful image; we are called to bear fruit, to live authentically.
What fruits are we bearing? Are we more focused on what the world sees or on what God sees? Are we living with integrity, allowing our inner life to match the outward expression of who we are? Are there parts of us that are overgrown with leaves, things we’ve cultivated for the sake of appearance, but lacking depth or nourishment? What would it look like to let go of some of that and turn our attention inward?
Jesus’ encounter with the fig tree is also about longing for truth, for growth, for connection. It’s about the kind of life that doesn’t just look good from afar but can actually feed something, offer something, reflect something deeper.
What if the fruit we long for doesn’t come from trying so hard to hold it all together? What if it begins to grow when we pause, get honest about what’s really going on inside, and gently root ourselves in love and presence? Maybe that’s where something real begins to take shape.
Part 2: The Cleansing of our inner Temple, becoming a living prayer
“He said, “Is it not written: ‘My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations’? But you have made it ‘a den of robbers. The chief priests and the teachers of the law heard this and began looking for a way to kill him, for they feared him”
“He spoke of adulterated virtues: of a love wherein self-love and covetousness predominate; of a humility mixed up with vanity; and He showed how easily evil glides into all things...He spoke also of mortification, of prayer, of fasting, and of hypocrisy which influences many in these holy practices...and for three days went no more to the Temple. He wanted to give the Apostles and disciples time to think over what they had heard. ”
In this passage, we are confronted with an image of the inner workings of our spiritual life. It reveals the ongoing battle that takes place within us, where our ego and lower desires, the "robbers", reside.
The ego is a master thief. It steals our peace by keeping us reactive. It steals our joy by convincing us to strive endlessly. It steals our capacity to love by persuading us that love is unsafe or that we must earn it. These inner robbers steal what is most precious: our tenderness, our openness, our peace, our communion with God, and others. And they do it slowly, subtly, under the cover of what seems normal, necessary, or even justified.
Within us, and sometimes around us, are the high priests and teachers of the law. These are the parts of ourselves, and the people we sometimes admire, who embody knowledge, eloquence, and confidence. They are clever, learned, skilled storytellers, sometimes even charismatic. They have mastered the art of performance. We may look up to them or even idolize them. They speak with authority, seem to know the way, and often carry the language of wisdom and truth. They know how to sound grounded and spiritual.
Within us, they appear as voices that strive for perfection, approval, and validation. These parts love to be right, to be seen as wise, to be admired for how much they know. They know all the right things to say, but they do not live them. They represent the self-righteous tendencies of the ego, the parts that speak good words yet resist transformation.
There is goodness in these qualities. Insight, clarity, and confidence can be beautiful gifts. But when they are severed from humility and the deeper current of honest self-examination, they can become obstacles. They may keep us performing instead of pausing. They may protect our image rather than open us to intimacy with the Divine.
These voices, whether within or without, often resist the kind of surrender that leads to something more real and alive. Instead, they uphold what feels familiar and safe, even when it no longer gives life. They rarely confront directly. Rather, they distract, control, and subtly discredit what is soft, slow, or intuitive. In doing so, they guard the inner temple from change.
The law, in this context, refers not only to societal rules or religious laws but to the internal structures we create in our minds and hearts. These can be dogmas, fixed beliefs, or even ideals that serve to keep us safe in our fears. Fear is the real driver of this resistance. Fear of losing control. Fear of being unloved. Fear of death, literal and symbolic. So the ego creates systems, rituals, dogmas, and images of perfection to hold everything in place. Even spiritual teachings can become tools of the ego when they are used to perform instead of transform.
The divine presence comes to confront the inner robbers and gatekeepers within us. It challenges the ways we settle for less than what we are truly meant for. We are called to discern the false voices within, to recognize the fears and rigid beliefs that prevent us from becoming who we are truly meant to be. We are made to be a house of prayer, a life that embodies prayer itself. We are meant to be a living expression of the divine presence in the world, a prayer that transcends time and space, a prayer for all, a prayer that unites.
Part 3: the inner pathway of transformation
““Have faith in God,” Jesus answered. “Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.””
“When, on the following morning, Jesus was going from Bethania to Jerusalem with some of His disciples, they found the fig tree that Jesus had cursed entirely withered, and the disciples wondered at it. I saw John and Peter halting on the roadside near the tree. When Peter showed his astonishment, Jesus said to them: “If ye believe, ye shall do still more wonderful things. Yea, at your word mountains will cast themselves into the sea.””
In Mark 11:22-25, Jesus teaches about the power of faith, prayer, and forgiveness. The message is clear: faith has the power to transform reality. The mountain symbolizes the seemingly insurmountable obstacles in our lives, whether they are external challenges or internal struggles. Jesus is inviting us to have faith that can transcend our limitations, the doubts that often keep us bound to our struggles.
Faith in God is cultivating a trust so deep that it transcends logic and doubt. It's about aligning our will with the will of the Divine, fully trusting that when we speak in faith, we are speaking in alignment with what God intends for us.
The final piece of this teaching is the call to forgiveness. This verse reminds us that our relationship with God is inseparable from our relationship with others. Holding onto grudges, resentment, or unforgiveness creates an inner block that stifles the flow of grace in our lives. Jesus teaches that we cannot move forward in our prayer and faith if we are holding onto unforgiveness. Forgiveness is about releasing the burden of anger and hurt, freeing ourselves to live in greater harmony with God’s will.
As we meditate on these verses, we are invited to examine our own hearts: What mountains in our lives seem impossible to move? What areas of our hearts need healing through forgiveness? Are we willing to trust in God's will and the power of prayer, not just as a means of asking, but as a means of transformation?
