It starts with a group of scholars – some say it was Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba and his students, others claim it was Rabbi Akiva, and still others suggest Rabbi Yehoshua. No matter who they were, they had a favorite spot: under a certain fig tree. Every day, they'd gather there to learn and discuss Torah.
But there was a catch. The owner of the fig tree was an early riser. Each morning, before the scholars even arrived, he'd be out there, harvesting his figs. The students, being observant folks, started to wonder: "Is he suspicious of us? Does he think we’re going to steal his figs?" It's a very human concern. We often project our own insecurities onto others.
So, they decided to move. "Let's not cause him any worry," they reasoned. "We'll find another spot." Simple enough.
But the next day, the fig tree owner was not happy. He noticed the scholars were gone, and he went searching! He tracked them down and asked, almost pleading, "My rabbis, why did you leave? You were doing me a mitzva!" A mitzva (מִצְוָה) as you probably know, is a good deed, an act of kindness, a commandment. "You were doing me a favor, and now you're taking it away?"
Of course, the scholars were taken aback. "Heaven forbid!" they exclaimed. "We just thought we were bothering you."
And then the fig tree owner revealed the truth. "It's not that at all! I harvest the figs early because when the sun shines on them, they become infested with worms." He needed to pick them before the heat of the day ruined the fruit.
Immediately, the scholars returned to their original spot under the fig tree. And, just to check, they picked some of the figs that hadn’t been harvested that day. Sure enough, they were full of worms! The owner had been telling the truth.
The scholars were struck by this. "The owner of the fig tree knew the right time to harvest his figs," they said. "So too, the Holy One, Blessed be He, knows when it is the right time to take the righteous."
It’s a powerful analogy, isn't it? This story, found in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, is about more than just figs and worms. It's about timing, about trust, and about accepting that there are things beyond our understanding. It suggests that just as the fig tree owner knew when to harvest, God knows when it's time for someone to leave this world. As Ginzberg retells it in Legends of the Jews, these kinds of stories helped people make sense of life's big mysteries.
It also reminds us to be careful about making assumptions. Those scholars were so quick to think they were causing trouble, when in reality, their presence was connected to the owner's livelihood in a way they couldn't have imagined.
So, the next time you find yourself worrying about how you're perceived, or questioning the timing of events in your life, remember the story of the fig tree. Maybe, just maybe, there's a bigger picture at play, one that's guided by a wisdom far greater than our own. Just like we find in Midrash Rabbah (a collection of rabbinic teachings), these stories are meant to give us comfort and perspective.