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Stinking Potatoes

There’s an old tale about an unusual tree – called the giving tree – that grew outside the gates of a desert city.  It was an ancient tree, a landmark, as a matter of fact.  It seemed to have been touched by the finger of God, because despite its old age, its limbs always bore fruit – year round.  Hundreds of passersby refreshed themselves from the tree because it never failed to give freely of its fruit.

But then a greedy merchant purchased the property on which the tree grew.  He saw hundreds of travelers picking the fruit from his tree, so he built a high fence around it.  Travelers pleaded and pleaded with the new owner, “Please share the fruit with us.”

The miserly merchant scoffed, “It’s my tree, my fruit, and bought with my money.”

And then an astonishing thing happened – suddenly, the ancient tree died!  The law of giving, as predictable as the law of gravity, expresses the iron-clad principle: when giving stops, bearing fruit ceases, and death follows inevitably.

This story helps us better appreciate how the responsorial psalm – beautifully sung by our choir and played by our Music Director Donny Nolan – pertains to all of us.  The psalm says: "LORD, you are good and forgiving, abounding in kindness to all who call upon you…You, O LORD, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and fidelity…”

God is good and forgiving, and our God expects us to be the same. We are supposed to be for-giving trees.  But when forgiving stops – when we refuse to let go of the resentment of wrongs done to us – it’s as if the greedy merchant inside of us all has built large fences around us.

These fences keep out those who need our fruits of the Spirit – charity, kindness and patience enabling spiritual works of mercy such as forgiveness. They could be our loved ones – husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, children, friends.  They plead and plead with us for this fruit, but they cannot get it. And the result of our not sharing, our not forgiving?  Like the fenced off ancient tree, we stop bearing fruit, and we die – inside.

Perhaps dying is too harsh a description. When we don’t forgive, we carry around heavy crippling burdens making us fester and stink.  An example of what I mean is best provided by this story.  

There came a time when Jesus gave one his disciples an empty sack and a basket of potatoes. He said, “Think of all the people who recently have said or done something against you, especially those you cannot forgive. Carve the name of each person on a potato, and put them in the sack. Carry that sack for a week, and then come back and we’ll talk.”

The disciple did as he was told, and at first, carrying the sack was not difficult.  But after a while it became a burden.  It got in the way and needed more effort to carry as time went on.  After a few days the sack began to stink giving off a ripe odor.

When the week was over, the disciple went back to Jesus who – like he did with today’s Gospel parable of the weeds in the field – explained the meaning of the sack of potatoes.  He said: “When we are unable to forgive others, we carry negative feelings with us everywhere, much like the potatoes. That negativity weighs us down daily, and after a while it festers. We lighten the load when we forgive.”

Jesus then explained, “We all must get rid of the sack that enables us to hold on to hard feelings – those old potatoes. The sack, he said, is something within us all that makes us dwell on feeling hurt and resentful and prevents us from forgiving. That something could be ego, a feeling of self-importance, vengefulness, and that something is owed to us."

Jesus tells us: “Drop the sack!  Put your hand in the bag and one at a time start counting: one potato, two potato, three potato, four; five potato, six potato, seven potato – no more!

Deacon David Pierce

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