Today’s readings speak of two kinds of life —
life according to the flesh, and life according to the Spirit;
a soul that bears fruit, and a soul that withers.
Both St Paul and the Lord Jesus are urging the same thing:
let grace make you alive inside before it’s too late.

Paul begins with a sentence that should be engraved on every heart:

“There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

He isn’t saying there’s no sin; he’s saying there’s no hopelessness.
The Cross has already spoken the verdict — mercy.
The sentence has already been served — by Christ.
For those who live in Him, the chains are broken.

That’s what “life in the Spirit” means:
not perfection, but liberation.
The Spirit is the breath of a new creation,
and Paul tells us that this same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead
now lives in us and will raise us too.

Christianity isn’t self-improvement; it’s resurrection.
The Holy Spirit doesn’t polish up the old self — He makes a new one.

When Paul says “the flesh,” he doesn’t mean the body —
he means the old mindset, the self turned in on itself.
Life in the flesh says: I decide, I deserve, I’m enough.
Life in the Spirit says: God decides, God gives, God is enough.

One leads to death,
the other to peace.
And Paul insists we must choose every day which life we live.

Even baptized souls can drift back to the old slavery —
the habits of anger, pride, gossip, lust, despair.
That’s why the Christian life is daily conversion —
a thousand small deaths that lead to one great rising.

In the Gospel, Jesus tells of a barren fig tree.
For three years the owner found no fruit and said,

“Cut it down; why should it use up the soil?”
But the gardener pleads,
“Leave it another year. I’ll dig around it and put manure on it; if it bears fruit, fine — if not, then cut it down.”

That’s God’s mercy in a story.
The owner is justice; the gardener is Christ.
Justice says, enough time has passed.
Mercy says, give it one more year.

And that’s where we all stand — in the “one more year” of mercy.
Every day of life is another chance to bear fruit.
Every Confession, another digging around the roots.
Every Eucharist, another feeding of grace.

But the parable also carries urgency:
mercy is real, but not endless.
There comes a time when the tree must either grow or fall.
Jesus isn’t threatening; He’s pleading —
don’t waste the season of grace.

The gardener’s “manure” isn’t a polite image — and that’s the point.
Sometimes God uses the messy parts of life to make us grow.
Suffering, setbacks, humiliation —
these can be the very nutrients grace uses to bring fruit.
Nothing is wasted if the Spirit lives in us.

The sign of spiritual life isn’t how easy things are —
it’s how fruitful they become.
If pain drives you to prayer,
if loss opens your heart to compassion,
if weakness makes you cry out for God —
then the garden is alive.

At this altar, we meet the same Spirit Paul spoke of.
Here, bread and wine — fruit of the earth and work of human hands —
are changed into the living Body and Blood of Christ.
That same transforming Spirit wants to work in us,
turning our dryness into devotion,
our habits into holiness,
our excuses into acts of love.

The Mass is the tree’s yearly tending.
Christ digs, waters, feeds —
and waits patiently for our fruit.

Today’s readings ask two questions:

What kind of life are you living — flesh or Spirit?

What kind of tree are you becoming — barren or fruitful?

The answer is not fixed; grace can change it.
Because there is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus.

So let the Spirit breathe again in you.
Let the Gardener do His work.
Let your life bear fruit that will last.