The most pointless, but also the most telling, pericope is the story of Jesus cursing the fig tree. This is told first in the gospel of Mark, and then, the author of Matthew explicitly rewrote a version that is clearly contradictory, and finally, although copying from Mark, the author of Luke decided, in his wisdom, to leave this pericope out altogether, even though he maintained the stories surrounding it.

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Introduction

Suppose you came across three news articles in the New York Post, Daily News and the New York Times:​

New York Post

This week, the Human Rights Campaign held a national convention at the Terrace on the Park Convention Center. Jimbob, Cletus, and their friends flew into LaGuardia Airport from West Virginia on Tuesday afternoon, all arriving on the same flight. They went directly to the Convention Center to scouted it out, but it was late and they saw most attendees had already left. They walked to the Best Western Queens Court Hotel for the night.

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Wednesday morning, as the group walked toward the Convention Center, a beggar asked them for change. Jimbob pulled out a hip flask, pretended to take a drink, and handed it to the beggar, who took a swig. They continued on their way and Jimbob’s friends heard him mutter “God-damned scum of the earth.” Once inside the Convention Center, Jimbob planted a fake bomb and made an anonymous call to the police. The building was evacuated until the threat was deemed false. Though security footage later identified Jimbob, by that time he and his friends had already returned to the hotel.

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On Thursday morning, as they approached the Convention Center again, Cletus saw paramedics attempting to resuscitate the same beggar. He looked at Jimbob, who smiled. Cletus muttered, “Glad I brought my own drink yesterday.” They continued toward the venue, but Jimbob was recognized by security and taken in for questioning.

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Daily News

This week, the Human Rights Campaign held a national convention at the Terrace on the Park Convention Center. Jimbob, Cletus, and their friends flew into LaGuardia Airport from West Virginia on Tuesday afternoon, arriving on two separate flights. Upon arrival, they went straight to the Convention Center, where Jimbob planted a fake bomb and placed an anonymous call to the police. The center was evacuated while the threat was investigated and found to be false. Though security footage identified Jimbob, he and his friends had already left and checked in at the Best Western Queens Court Hotel.

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Wednesday morning, as they walked back toward the Convention Center, a beggar asked for change. Jimbob pulled out a hip flask, pretended to take a sip, and handed it to the beggar. The beggar took a swig, immediately began convulsing, and collapsed as people nearby rushed to help. Without pausing, Jimbob and his friends continued on their way. At the Convention Center, Jimbob was recognized and detained by security for questioning.

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New York Times

This week, the Human Rights Campaign held a national convention at the Terrace on the Park Convention Center. Jimbob, Cletus, and their friends flew into LaGuardia Airport from West Virginia on Tuesday afternoon, arriving on the same flight. As they approached the Convention Center, Jimbob sneered, remarking how far New York had fallen, with “trans, gays, and queers running around unchecked.”

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Once inside, Jimbob planted a fake bomb and made an anonymous phone call to the police. The Convention Center was evacuated until the device was confirmed to be a hoax, but he remained unidentified in the security footage. For the next few days, Jimbob and his group returned to protest outside the venue. Towards the end of this week, he was finally recognized, wearing the same outfit he had on the day of the bomb threat, and was taken in for questioning by security.

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Upon reviewing these three accounts, it becomes evident that they cannot be describing the same event. Aside from the shared names and the location of the hoax bomb, there is little consistency between them. It is highly improbable that three competent, let alone inspired, reporters would produce such radically different narratives of what ought to be a straightforward sequence of events. After all, reporters are expected to present the facts accurately and faithfully. If that standard applies to journalism, how much more should it apply to divinely inspired testimony?

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With this in mind, let us now examine what is perhaps the most perplexing pericope in the Gospels: the episode in which Jesus curses a fig tree for not bearing fruit. The incident takes place in late March or early April, well before fig trees produce fruit, which typically occurs in June. Yet, finding no figs, Jesus curses the tree, and it withers.

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1. Mark

The author of Mark in Chapter 11 tells of this supposed triumphal entry into Jerusalem

Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple, and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

 

On the following day, when they came from Bethany, he was hungry.

Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to see whether perhaps he would find anything on it. When he came to it, he found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs.

He said to it, “May no one ever eat fruit from you again.” And his disciples heard it.

 

Here, it clearly states that the disciples “heard” that Jesus had cursed the fig tree, and nothing else is mentioned. Jesus then proceeds to the Temple and this is where he overturns the tables of those who exchanged the money changers and those selling sacrificial animals:

Then they came to Jerusalem. And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling and those who were buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves, and he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple. He was teaching and saying, “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’?
But you have made it a den of robbers.” And when the chief priests and the scribes heard it, they kept looking for a way to kill him, for they were afraid of him because the whole crowd was spellbound by his teaching.

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That evening, following this event at the Temple, Jesus and the disciples return to Bethany where they were staying:

And when evening came, Jesus and his disciples went out of the city.

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The next day, Jesus and the disciples are walking back to Jerusalem:

In the morning as they passed by, they saw the fig tree withered away to its roots.

Then Peter remembered and said to him, “Rabbi, look! The fig tree that you cursed has withered.”

Jesus answered them, “Have faith in God. Truly I tell you, if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and if you do not doubt in your heart but believe that what you say will come to pass, it will be done for you. So I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. Whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father in heaven may also forgive you your trespasses.”

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The next event describes how Jesus and the disciples returned to Jerusalem:

Again they came to Jerusalem.

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The event at the Temple will be discussed later, as it is nonsensical given the explicit requirements in the Torah, but we will now focus on the fig tree. Figs in Judah offer two harvests a year:

1. The main harvest occurs late summer, in August or September.

2. An earlier and smaller harvest in spring, around June.

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The Gregorian calendar is explicitly tied to the solar calendar (approximately 365.2425 days) with months only nominally tied to the lunar month, and thus it is synchronized with seasonal events. For example, one could describe the period during which figs blossom as a specific date with a corresponding standard deviation. Each year, this would correctly describe the approximate time spring begins.

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Because Judaism follows a lunisolar calendar, each year has either twelve or thirteen lunar months (29.5 days, so alternating between 29 and 30 days, but twelve months only span 354 days, so 11¼ days short of a solar year). Passover begins on the 15th of Nisan, which can fall anywhere between March 26 and April 25 on the Gregorian calendar. However, since Jesus was executed on a Friday morning, with the Sabbath beginning at sunset that day, only two years fit the criteria: 30 CE and 33 CE. In the Gregorian calendar, these dates correspond to April 5 and April 2, respectively. In either case, it is evident that Jesus encountered the fig tree on or around April 1.​

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The fig tree (Ficus carica) is a deciduous tree native to the eastern Mediterranean, meaning it sheds its leaves in autumn and remains bare through the winter months. In the region around Jerusalem, fig trees begin sprouting new leaves in late March, as temperatures warm and daylight increases. By April 1, most healthy fig trees would be showing fresh, young leaves, though the canopy would still be somewhat sparse compared to summer foliage. Alongside these leaves, fig trees often produce early immature fruit called figlets (Hebrew: pagim): small, green, pea- to marble-sized pre-fruit that grow directly from the older wood. These figlets are not yet sweet or ripe, but in some varieties, they are edible and used as a seasonal food even before the main crop appears. Their presence is a sign of vitality; a leafy tree with no figlets at all might be considered sterile or fruitless.

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Figlets can be eaten, though not typically raw. They are firm, astringent, and may exude a white latex that can irritate the skin or mouth, especially when immature. In traditional Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cooking, figlets are sometimes harvested early in the season, then boiled to reduce bitterness or pickled with vinegar and spices. Though lacking the sweetness of ripe figs, they are a known seasonal food in some rural communities.

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While the climate in Galilee is generally milder and wetter than in Jerusalem, especially near Capernaum next to the Sea of Galilee, the difference is not dramatic enough to delay the fig cycle significantly. In fact, Galilee’s lower elevation and milder winters might allow some trees to leaf out slightly earlier, though full ripening of figs still occurs only in late May or June. Thus, both in Jerusalem and Galilee, fig trees around April 1 would typically have leaves and possibly small figlets, but no mature fruit.

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Consequently, even if Jesus had recently arrived from Galilee, it is unreasonable to suppose that he would have expected to find ripe figs on a fig tree at that time of year. In both Galilee and Judea, the fig harvest occurs in late spring to early summer, with ripe figs not appearing until May or June. While some early figlets may develop alongside the first leaves in late March or early April, these are immature, astringent, and not considered proper fruit for eating. Never would there have been a harvest of edible figs in Galilee by Nisan 15. Thus, the idea that Jesus would have approached a fig tree expecting to find edible fruit on or around April 1 seems implausible.

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This expectation would be akin to someone walking through an orange grove in Florida in early September, hoping to pick ripe fruit, despite the fact that Florida’s orange harvest typically begins in November and peaks in the winter months, particularly from December through March. Just as it would be unreasonable to expect ripe oranges at the very start of the growing season, it would likewise be unreasonable to expect a fig tree to bear edible fruit so early in the spring.

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One might attempt to argue that Jesus cursed the fig tree because it bore no figlets, and was therefore sterile or fruitless, but that is not what the text suggests. His motivation is stated plainly: he was hungry. “Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to see whether perhaps he would find anything on it. When he came to it, he found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs” (Mark 11:13). There is no indication that Jesus was so desperate that he would have eaten underdeveloped figlets, nor is there any hint that he was examining the tree for signs of vitality and, finding none, chose to curse it. On the contrary, the passage makes it clear that he was looking specifically for figs, and it explicitly adds that “it was not the season for figs”; highlighting the apparent contradiction between his expectation and the natural cycle of the tree.

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Additionally, Jesus could not have been so starved that he would have needed to eat immature figlets, for he was staying with friends in Bethany, as described in John 12:1-2, where he is welcomed into the home of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary, and served a dinner in his honor. This indicates that he had access to food, companionship, and hospitality during his time there. Given this context, the claim in Mark 11:12 that he was hungry on the way from Bethany to Jerusalem should not be taken to suggest that he was suffering from a lack of food. There is no indication in the Gospel accounts that he was being neglected or had gone without meals; if anything, the available sources suggest that he was among supporters who provided for him.

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Finally, Jesus is portrayed as God incarnate on Earth, and according to John 1:3, he was present at the creation of the universe: “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.” If he retained divine knowledge, even in part, he would have known that fig trees do not bear fruit around the time of Passover. Even if, in assuming human form, he experienced some form of limited awareness or amnesia, he is nonetheless depicted as a remarkably perceptive and intelligent child. As described in Luke 2:46-47, he amazed the teachers in the temple with his understanding: “After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers.” Moreover, fig trees are common throughout the Levant, including the Galilean hills near Nazareth, making it implausible that someone raised in that environment, divine or not, would not have known that figs are out of season in early spring.

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Thus, it would seem an act of mere pettiness to curse a fruit tree simply because it failed to produce figs out of season; a condition that no reasonable person, especially someone familiar with the region, would expect. Fig trees do not bear ripe fruit in early spring, and as the Gospel itself acknowledges, “it was not the season for figs” (Mark 11:13). To kill a tree for failing to produce what nature itself withholds at that time of year appears both unjust and disproportionate. If taken at face value, the action is vindictive, the equivalent of smashing a vending machine that correctly displays an “Out of Order” sign.

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The only plausible justification for such an act is symbolic: that the incident is intended as some sort of lesson or demonstration. Indeed, the following day, when the disciples notice the now-withered tree, Jesus responds not with an explanation about fruitfulness or judgment, but instead shifts the topic entirely:

“Have faith in God. Truly I tell you, if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and if you do not doubt in your heart but believe that what you say will come to pass, it will be done for you. So I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. Whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father in heaven may also forgive you your trespasses.”

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This abrupt transition is telling. Rather than clarifying why he destroyed the fig tree, Jesus leverages the act as a segue into a teaching on the power of faith and prayer. The implication seems to be that faith so potent as to kill a tree with a word could move mountains or bring about the fulfillment of any request made in prayer. Yet this raises an unsettling theological question: does the effectiveness of prayer hinge solely on belief, regardless of the reason or intent behind the request? If Jesus’s curse is the model, then even absurd or unjustified outcomes, like destroying a blameless tree, are within reach, provided the petitioner believes without doubt. The teaching, then, risks divorcing the power of faith from the wisdom of purpose, implying that divine response is conditioned not on the merit of the request but on the conviction with which it is made.

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Even today, there are believers who earnestly pray, often with deep faith and desperation, for the healing of loved ones suffering from cancer, chronic illness, or devastating injury. These are not petty or selfish requests, but sincere pleas rooted in love, grief, and compassion. And yet, such prayers are rarely, if ever, answered in the miraculous way promised. Meanwhile, others direct their prayers toward curses and ruin, asking God to strike down political opponents or punish those they disagree with, sometimes praying for the death of public figures who advocate for justice or social reform. Despite thousands undoubtedly praying for his demise, Barack Obama survived his presidency unscathed, still very much alive and thriving years later. If Jesus’s words were to be taken at face value (“whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours”) one would expect some observable pattern. But reality does not bear this out. Instead, it suggests that faith and fervor are no guarantee of results, and that this dramatic promise, like the curse of the fig tree, wilts under scrutiny.

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Out of season: the withered logic of the fig tree curse

Another common interpretation among some Christian commentators is that the cursing of the fig tree is metaphorical, and that the tree itself represents Israel, or more specifically, the people of Judah. In the Tanakh, the fig tree is frequently used as a symbol of the nation. For example, in Hosea 9:10, God says, “Like the first fruit on the fig tree in its first season, I saw your ancestors,” and in Jeremiah 8:13, the Lord declares, “When I wanted to gather them, says the Lord, there are no grapes on the vine, nor figs on the fig tree.” These and other prophetic texts employ the fig tree to represent the spiritual condition of the people: fruitfulness as a metaphor for righteousness and faithfulness, barrenness for corruption and rebellion. Within this symbolic tradition, the Mark’s fig tree may be seen as a stand-in for the Jewish leadership or nation, and its lack of fruit as a commentary on their failure to receive or recognize Jesus. The curse, then, becomes an allegory: a pronouncement of judgment for spiritual barrenness. This reading is often tied to the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE, which some early Christians saw as divine retribution. Just as the tree withers after being cursed, so too does Jerusalem fall, and with it, the center of Jewish worship and national identity. In this view, the fig tree episode is not about horticulture, hunger, or even literal prayer, but rather a veiled prophetic act, portraying Jesus as enacting judgment upon a people who, in the Christian narrative, failed to bear the fruit expected of them.

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The problem with this symbolic reading is that the analogy collapses under scrutiny. If the fig tree represents Israel or Judah, and its withering is a prophetic sign of Jerusalem’s destruction in 70 CE, then the basis of judgment appears troubling. According to the Gospel account, the tree is not cursed for failing to bear fruit in its proper season, but rather for not bearing fruit when it was explicitly not the season for figs (Mark 11:13). Applied metaphorically, this would suggest that the Jewish people were condemned not for rejecting a divine message they should have accepted, but for failing to respond when it was not yet their time, for being “out of season,” so to speak. If the analogy is to hold, then it implies that God, through Jesus, knowingly approached a people who were not yet ready or expected to bear fruit, only to curse and punish them for that very reason.

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This raises a deeply unsettling theological implication: that the destruction of Jerusalem and the deaths of thousands of Jews were not the result of a fair and just rejection of a message they were supposed to understand, but the outcome of a preordained failure, one Jesus anticipated and even orchestrated. He repeatedly predicts his own rejection and death at the hands of the religious authorities (e.g., Mark 8:31), which suggests that their opposition was expected, perhaps even necessary within the narrative. Yet to then portray their destruction as divine retribution for that rejection introduces a level of cosmic pettiness and cruelty that seems incompatible with any meaningful notion of justice or divinity. To curse a tree for not bearing fruit out of season is irrational; to use that as a symbol for punishing a people for failing to do what they were never prepared or appointed to do is not just irrational, it is morally indefensible.

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A conclusion on the withered fig tree in Mark 11

In the end, the story of the fig tree in Mark 11 fails to make sense on any level: literal, symbolic, or theological. Taken literally, it portrays an act of irrational frustration: a man curses a tree for not bearing fruit at a time when fruit is not supposed to exist. Taken symbolically, it implies a divine judgment against a people for failing to respond to a message they were neither prepared for nor expected to accept: an act that, far from being just, appears arbitrary and cruel. And taken theologically, it raises troubling questions about the nature of God, prayer, and justice, suggesting that belief alone, regardless of reason or merit, can call down both miracles and destruction. Whether read as history, allegory, or doctrine, the episode remains inconsistent, disproportionate, and ultimately indefensible. It reflects more on the narrative needs or theological anxieties of the early Christian community than on any coherent moral or divine truth.

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2. The author of Matthew jumps on the bandwagon

The author of Matthew is clearly drawing from the Gospel of Mark, yet the order and details of the events are significantly altered. In Mark, the sequence is as follows:

1. ​Mark 11:1-10 The triumphal entry into Jerusalem.

2. Mark 11:11 Jesus enters Jerusalem, briefly visits the Temple, and then goes to Bethany for the night.

3. Mark 11:12-14: The next morning, on the way back to Jerusalem, Jesus curses a fig tree.

4. Mark 11:15-17: Jesus cleanses the Temple.

5. Mark 11:18 In response to the Temple cleansing, the chief priests and scribes begin plotting to kill him.

6. Mark 11:19: Jesus returns to Bethany.

7. Mark 11:20-25: On the following morning, the disciples notice the fig tree has withered; Jesus gives a teaching on faith and prayer.

8. Mark 11:27-33 The authority of Jesus is questioned in the Temple.

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In Matthew, the structure is quite different, and two major changes stand out:

1. ​Matthew 21:1-10 The triumphal entry into Jerusalem.

2. Matthew 21:11-13: Jesus immediately cleanses the Temple upon entering.

3. Matthew 21:14-16: Jesus heals the blind and the lame; the chief priests and scribes are angered by the children’s praise.

4. Matthew 21:17: Jesus goes to Bethany.

5. Matthew 21:18-22: On the following morning, Jesus curses a fig tree, which withers immediately in front of the disciples.

6. Matthew 21:23-27: The authority of Jesus is questioned in the Temple.

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Unlike Mark, Matthew omits any mention of a return to Bethany the night of the triumphal entry prior to the Temple cleansing. Instead, the cleansing occurs on the same day as the entry. More significantly, the fig tree episode is shifted to the day after the cleansing. And whereas in Mark the disciples only notice the fig tree’s withering the following day, prompting Peter’s recognition and Jesus’s teaching, in Matthew, the tree withers instantly, and the disciples witness the miracle in real time.

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There is no plausible way to reconcile these as two versions of the same event. In Mark, Jesus curses the tree, and no immediate result is observed; only later does Peter point out its withered state. In Matthew, the fig tree withers “at once”, and the disciples react immediately with astonishment:

In the morning, when he returned to the city, he was hungry.

And seeing a fig tree by the side of the road, he went to it and found nothing at all on it but leaves.

Then he said to it, “May no fruit ever come from you again!”

And the fig tree withered at once.

When the disciples saw it, they were amazed, saying, “How did the fig tree wither at once?”

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Compare this to Mark’s more restrained account:

On the following day, when they came from Bethany, he was hungry.

Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to see whether perhaps he would find anything on it. When he came to it, he found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs.

He said to it, “May no one ever eat fruit from you again.”

And his disciples heard it.

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Most notably, Matthew omits the crucial phrase: “for it was not the season for figs.” This omission is telling. Even while copying Mark’s structure and wording closely, Matthew deliberately leaves out the most troubling element, that Jesus cursed a tree for failing to produce fruit when it was not even supposed to. The author of Matthew appears to find this detail too problematic, and instead reshapes the event to be a clear-cut miracle, a public and immediate display of Jesus’s power. He emphasizes the instantaneous nature of the miracle by repeating the phrase “at once,” first to describe the withering itself, and again in the disciples’ astonished reaction: “How did the fig tree wither at once?”

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In doing so, Matthew recasts a cryptic and troubling act into a clean miracle narrative, one that eliminates the uncomfortable implication of unjust judgment and replaces it with a clear demonstration of divine authority, seen and acknowledged by all.

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To emphasize the textual relationship and editorial choices between the Gospels, we present here Mark 11:12-14, 20-25 juxtaposed with Matthew 21:18-22 in koine Greek:​

Καὶ τῇ ἐπαύριον ἐξελθόντων αὐτῶν ἀπὸ Βηθανίας ἐπείνασεν. καὶ ἰδὼν συκῆν ἀπὸ μακρόθεν ἔχουσαν φύλλα ἦλθεν εἰ ἄρα τί εὑρήσει ἐν αὐτῇ. καὶ ἐλθὼν ἐπ᾽ αὐτὴν οὐδὲν εὗρεν εἰ μὴ φύλλα· ὁ γὰρ καιρὸς οὐκ ἦν σύκων. καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς εἶπεν αὐτῇ· μηκέτι εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα ἐκ σοῦ μηδεὶς καρπὸν φάγοι. καὶ ἤκουον οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ...

...καὶ παραπορευόμενοι πρωῒ εἶδον τὴν συκῆν ἐξηραμμένην ἐκ ῥιζῶν. καὶ ἀναμνησθεὶς ὁ Πέτρος λέγει αὐτῷ· ῥαββεί, ἴδε ἡ συκῆ ἣν κατηράσω ἐξήρανται. Καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς ὁ Ἰησοῦς λέγει αὐτοῖς· ἔχετε πίστιν θεοῦ. ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν ὅτι ὃς ἂν εἴπῃ τῷ ὄρει τούτῳ· ἄρθητι καὶ βλήθητι εἰς τὴν θάλασσαν, καὶ μὴ διακριθῇ ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτοῦ ἀλλὰ πιστεύῃ ὅτι ὃ λαλεῖ γείνεται, ἔσται αὐτῷ. Διὰ τοῦτο λέγω ὑμῖν· πάντα ὅσα προσεύχεσθε καὶ αἰτεῖσθε, πιστεύετε ὅτι ἐλάβετε, καὶ ἔσται ὑμῖν. καὶ ὅταν στήκετε προσευχόμενοι, ἀφίετε εἴ τι ἔχετε κατά τινος ἵνα καὶ ὁ πατὴρ ὑμῶν ὁ ἐν τοῖς οὐρανοῖς ἀφῇ ὑμῖν τὰ παραπτώματα ὑμῶν.

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πρωῒ δὲ ἐπανάγων εἰς τὴν πόλιν ἐπείνασεν, καὶ ἰδὼν συκῆν μίαν ἐπὶ τῆς ὁδοῦ ἦλθεν ἐπ᾽ αὐτὴν καὶ οὐδὲν εὗρεν ἐν αὐτῇ εἰ μὴ φύλλα μόνον καὶ λέγει αὐτῇ· μηκέτι ἐκ σοῦ καρπὸς γένηται εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα. καὶ ἐξηράνθη παραχρῆμα ἡ συκῆ. καὶ ἰδόντες οἱ μαθηταὶ ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες· πῶς παραχρῆμα ἐξηράνθη ἡ συκῆ; Ἀποκριθεὶς δὲ ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτοῖς· ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν· ἐὰν ἔχητε πίστιν καὶ μὴ διακριθῆτε, οὐ μόνον τὸ τῆς συκῆς ποιήσετε, ἀλλὰ κἂν τῷ ὄρει τούτῳ εἴπητε· ἄρθητι καὶ βλήθητι εἰς τὴν θάλασσαν, γενήσεται· καὶ πάντα ὅσα ἂν αἰτήσητε ἐν τῇ προσευχῇ πιστεύοντες, λήμψεσθε.

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From the significant repetition of entire phrases, it is clear that the author of Matthew is directly using Mark as a source, though with deliberate editorial changes to suit his theological emphasis. The sequence of events, the style of miracle, and the reaction of the disciples are reordered and reshaped, contradicting the structure of the Markan narrative. For instance, Mark depicts the fig tree withering only the next day, whereas Matthew presents it withering immediately in front of the disciples’ eyes, who, rather than just hearing the curse, instead marvel aloud.

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If any lingering doubt remains that Matthew heavily relied on, if not outright plagiarized, Mark, one might consider a modern parallel that is both accessible and revealing: the now-infamous comparison between the speeches of Michelle Obama and Melania Trump. Just as large sections of Melania Trump’s speech replicated Michelle Obama’s with minor alterations, Matthew’s narrative reproduces Mark’s language and structure, while selectively altering elements to craft his own interpretation of Jesus’s authority and power.

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Michelle Obama (2008)

And Barack and I were raised with so many of the same values: that you work hard for what you want in life; that your word is your bond and you do what you say you’re going to do; that you treat people with dignity and respect, even if you don’t know them, and even if you don't agree with them.

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And Barack Obama and I set out to build lives guided by these values, and pass them on to the next generations. Because we want our children, and all children in this nation, to know that the only limit to the height of your achievement is the reach of your dreams and your willingness to work for them.

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Melania Trump (2016)

My parents impressed on me the values that you work hard for what you want in life; that your word is your bond and you do what you say and keep your promise; that you treat people with respect.

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[My parents] taught me to show the values and morals in my daily life. That is the lesson that I continue to pass along to our son. And we need to pass those lessons on to the many generations to follow, because we want our children in this nation to know that the only limit to your achievements is the strength of your dreams and your willingness to work for them.

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Finally, the teaching of Jesus that comes from this troubling curse is subtly different, for in Mark 11:22-24 we have

“Have faith in God. Truly I tell you, if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and if you do not doubt in your heart but believe that what you say will come to pass, it will be done for you. So I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”

while in Matthew 21:21-22, we have:

“Truly I tell you, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only will you do what has been done to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ it will be done. Whatever you ask for in prayer with faith, you will receive.”

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The teachings on faith and prayer in Mark 11:22-24 and Matthew 21:21-22 are closely related, but not identical, and their differences reveal subtle but significant theological and literary choices made by the author of Matthew. In Mark, Jesus begins with the command: “Have faith in God,” grounding the teaching in a relationship of trust and dependence. This is followed by a sweeping promise: whoever does not doubt, but believes, will have whatever they ask for in prayer, even miraculous outcomes like casting a mountain into the sea. The emphasis is on faith as internal conviction, and the result is phrased in the past tense: “believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” This suggests a kind of faith that appropriates the result even before it is visible, bordering on a theological mechanism.

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In Matthew, the teaching omits the opening exhortation to have faith “in God” and instead begins directly with the condition: “If you have faith and do not doubt...” The focus here is not trust in God, but the power of faith itself, which is framed more as a spiritual force. Additionally, Matthew anchors the teaching more explicitly in the immediate context by saying, “not only will you do what has been done to the fig tree,” directly linking the miracle just witnessed to the general principle being taught. Mark makes no such connection. Finally, Matthew frames the promise in a simpler and more direct form: “Whatever you ask for in prayer with faith, you will receive.” The past tense of Mark, “believe that you have received it,” is replaced with a future-oriented expectation, removing the mystical immediacy and replacing it with a straightforward cause-and-effect model.

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These changes suggest that the author of Matthew is streamlining and reframing Mark’s teaching to make it less ambiguous and more didactic. By eliminating the past-tense formulation and the mystical overtones, Matthew makes the teaching more accessible and practical, while still preserving its miraculous character. At the same time, by linking the promise directly to the fig tree, Matthew reinforces the narrative unity of the miracle and its lesson, something Mark leaves more implicit. The omission of “faith in God” also fits with Matthew’s broader theme of Jesus’s own authority and the effectiveness of faith itself, further centering the narrative on Jesus rather than on divine mediation.

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This is not a case of two witnesses describing the same event from different angles; rather, it is the deliberate reshaping of one narrative into another, with outcomes and implications that directly contradict the original. The author of Matthew is clearly following the structure and pericopes of Mark 11, as seen in the surrounding material, yet he makes intentional deviations that transform the story. The fig tree withers immediately rather than overnight; the disciples react visibly, rather than noticing it later; and most significantly, the damning explanation found in Mark, “for it was not the season for figs,” is entirely omitted. That one line reveals the injustice at the heart of the act: a tree punished for failing to do what nature made impossible. In Matthew’s hands, this irrational curse becomes a display of miraculous power, stripped of its troubling moral weight but no less disturbing. The result is not merely a new theological emphasis, it is a contradiction, and one that recasts a petty and vindictive gesture into a dramatic sign of Jesus’s authority, even as it remains horrifyingly petty in its outcome. There is no harmonizing these versions. One tells of a tree that withers in silence; the other, of one that dies before astonished eyes. And in the end, what was once a troubling riddle becomes a spectacle, stripped of subtlety, but no less troubling.

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3. The author of Luke wizens up

The author of Luke was clearly using Mark as one of his primary sources, as evidenced by the long sequences of shared pericopes that appear in nearly the same order, with only minor rearrangements or insertions. This literary dependence is widely acknowledged in modern scholarship. Moreover, the author of Luke explicitly states his intention at the beginning of the Gospel: “I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the certainty concerning the things about which you have been instructed” (Luke 1:3-4). If Mark was one of his sources, and all the evidence suggests that it was, then Luke’s deliberate omission of the fig tree episode is striking.

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In Luke 19:28, Jesus makes his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, as he does in Mark 11. However, unlike in Mark, he does not retire to Bethany for the night. Instead, Luke 19:45-46 simply states: “Then he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling things there; and he said, ‘It is written, “My house shall be a house of prayer”; but you have made it a den of robbers.’” There is no mention of Jesus looking for food, no fig tree, no curse, and no withering observed the following day. The narrative then moves directly to the challenge from the chief priests and scribes about Jesus’s authority in Luke 20:1-8, mirroring Mark 11:27-33.

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This omission suggests that the author of Luke made a theological or narrative decision to exclude the fig tree episode. The story, as it appears in Mark, portrays Jesus acting with seemingly irrational anger, cursing a fig tree for not bearing fruit out of season, then using the incident as a springboard for a sweeping promise about the power of prayer. For the author of Luke (who often emphasizes divine mercy, patience, and forgiveness) such a vindictive and puzzling episode may have been inconsistent with the image of Jesus he sought to present. His decision to omit it entirely implies that he did not regard the story as authentic, edifying, or necessary for his account. In fact, the absence of both the fig tree and the associated teaching on prayer strongly suggests that Luke found the episode unreliable, inappropriate, or theologically problematic.

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Indeed, while Jesus does speak about the power of prayer in the Gospel of Luke, his teachings are notably different from the sweeping promise found in Mark 11:23-24. In that passage, Jesus says:

 

“Truly I tell you, if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and if you do not doubt in your heart but believe that what you say will come to pass, it will be done for you. So I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” (Mark 11:23-24)

 

This statement is broad and almost unconditional, suggesting that faith alone guarantees results, regardless of the content or purpose of the prayer.

In contrast, Luke’s Gospel portrays prayer more cautiously and morally, with a focus on persistence, humility, and alignment with God’s will. For instance:

• Luke 11:9-10: Jesus encourages his followers to ask, seek, and knock, promising that God will respond. But the passage concludes with a clarification: “How much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (Luke 11:13). The scope of the promise is narrowed to receiving the Holy Spirit, not unlimited fulfillment of requests.

• Luke 18:1-8: In the Parable of the Persistent Widow, Jesus teaches that consistent and faithful prayer is heard by God, contrasting divine justice with an unjust judge who gives in simply to avoid being worn down. The emphasis here is not on the power of belief to cause outcomes, but on God’s justice and responsiveness.

In summary, while prayer is certainly valued in Luke, it is never portrayed as a blank cheque activated by belief alone, as described in Mark. The author of Luke emphasizes:

1. Persistence in prayer (Luke 18:1-8)

2. Humility and sincerity (Luke 18:9-14: the Pharisee and the tax collector)

3. Moral alignment and trust in God’s will (Luke 11:13)

Thus, Luke presents a measured and ethically grounded theology of prayer, quite distinct from Mark’s more absolute and miraculous formulation.

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If there is any doubt in your mind that the author of Luke copied verses before, within and after the cursing of the fig tree in Mark, here we present in koine Greek, the verses from Mark 11:8-33, and the verses from Luke 19:36-20:8. The plagiarism is clear, with the only addition being that Luke includes a lament for Jerusalem. 

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Mark 11:8-11(when Jesus enters Jerusalem and then leaves):

καὶ πολλοὶ τὰ ἱμάτια αὐτῶν ἔστρωσαν εἰς τὴν ὁδόν, ἄλλοι δὲ στιβάδας κόψαντες ἐκ τῶν ἀγρῶν. καὶ οἱ προάγοντες καὶ οἱ ἀκολουθοῦντες ἔκραζον· ὡσαννά, εὐλογημένος ὁ ἐρχόμενος ἐν ὀνόματι κυρίου, εὐλογημένη ἡ ἐρχομένη βασιλεία τοῦ πατρὸς ἡμῶν Δαυείδ, ὡσαννὰ ἐν τοῖς ὑψίστοις. Καὶ εἰσῆλθεν εἰς Ἱεροσόλυμα εἰς τὸ ἱερόν, καὶ περιβλεψάμενος πάντα, ὀψίας ἤδη οὔσης τῆς ὥρας, ἐξῆλθεν εἰς Βηθανίαν μετὰ τῶν δώδεκα.

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Mark 11:12-14: Jesus curses the fig tree.

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Mark 11:15-19 (Having returned to Jerusalem from Bethany, Jesus cleanses the Temple):

καὶ ἔρχονται εἰς Ἱεροσόλυμα, καὶ εἰσελθὼν εἰς τὸ ἱερὸν ἤρξατο ἐκβάλλειν τοὺς πωλοῦντας καὶ τοὺς ἀγοράζοντας ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ, καὶ τὰς τραπέζας τῶν κολλυβιστῶν καὶ τὰς καθέδρας τῶν πωλούντων τὰς περιστερὰς κατέστρεψεν καὶ οὐκ ἤφιεν ἵνα τίς διενέγκῃ σκεῦος διὰ τοῦ ἱεροῦ. καὶ ἐδίδασκεν καὶ ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς· οὐ γέγραπται ὅτι ὁ οἶκός μου οἶκος προσευχῆς κληθήσεται πᾶσιν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν; ὑμεῖς δὲ πεποιήκατε αὐτὸν σπήλαιον ληστῶν. Καὶ ἤκουσαν οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ γραμματεῖς καὶ ἐζήτουν πῶς αὐτὸν ἀπολέσωσιν· ἐφοβοῦντο γὰρ αὐτόν, πᾶς γὰρ ὁ ὄχλος ἐξεπλήσσετο ἐπὶ τῇ διδαχῇ αὐτοῦ. Καὶ ὅταν ὀψὲ ἐγένετο, ἐξεπορεύετο ἔξω τῆς πόλεως.

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Mark 11:20-25: They see the withered fig tree and Jesus uses this as an opportunity to teach about prayer.

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Mark 11:26: Not present in some of the oldest and most reliable manuscripts.

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Mark 11:27-33:

Καὶ ἔρχονται πάλιν εἰς Ἱεροσόλυμα· καὶ ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ περιπατοῦντος αὐτοῦ ἔρχονται πρὸς αὐτὸν οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ γραμματεῖς καὶ οἱ πρεσβύτεροι καὶ ἔλεγον αὐτῷ· ἐν ποίᾳ ἐξουσίᾳ ταῦτα ποιεῖς ἢ τίς σοι ἔδωκεν τὴν ἐξουσίαν ταύτην ἵνα ταῦτα ποιῇς; ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτοῖς· ἐπερωτήσω ὑμᾶς ἕνα λόγον, καὶ ἀποκρίθητέ μοι, καὶ ἐρῶ ὑμῖν ἐν ποίᾳ ἐξουσίᾳ ταῦτα ποιῶ. τὸ βάπτισμα τὸ Ἰωάννου ἐξ οὐρανοῦ ἦν ἢ ἐξ ἀνθρώπων; ἀποκρίθητέ μοι. καὶ διελογίζοντο πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς λέγοντες· ἐὰν εἴπωμεν· ἐξ οὐρανοῦ, ἐρεῖ· διὰ τί οὖν οὐκ ἐπιστεύσατε αὐτῷ; ἀλλὰ εἴπωμεν· ἐξ ἀνθρώπων, ἐφοβοῦντο τὸν ὄχλον· ἅπαντες γὰρ εἶχον τὸν Ἰωάννην ὄντως ὅτι προφήτης ἦν. καὶ ἀποκριθέντες τῷ Ἰησοῦ λέγουσιν· οὐκ οἴδαμεν. καὶ ὁ Ἰησοῦς λέγει αὐτοῖς· οὐδὲ ἐγὼ λέγω ὑμῖν ἐν ποίᾳ ἐξουσίᾳ ταῦτα ποιῶ.

 

The story of Jesus's entry into Jerusalem in Luke is significantly different from that told in Mark, including the words that the crowd is allegedly shouting. There is a minimal overlap, such as laying down of the cloaks and some words of Jesus being Lord and King. 
 

Luke 19:36-40 (when Jesus enters Jerusalem but stays):

πορευομένου δὲ αὐτοῦ ὑπεστρώννυον τὰ ἱμάτια αὐτῶν ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ. Ἐγγίζοντος δὲ αὐτοῦ ἤδη πρὸς τῇ καταβάσει τοῦ ὄρους τῶν ἐλαιῶν ἤρξαντο ἅπαν τὸ πλῆθος τῶν μαθητῶν χαίροντες αἰνεῖν τὸν θεὸν φωνῇ μεγάλῃ περὶ πασῶν ὧν εἶδον δυνάμεων λέγοντες· εὐλογημένος ὁ ἐρχόμενος βασιλεὺς ἐν ὀνόματι κυρίου· ἐν οὐρανῷ εἰρήνη, καὶ δόξα ἐν ὑψίστοις. καί τινες τῶν Φαρισαίων ἀπὸ τοῦ ὄχλου εἶπαν πρὸς αὐτόν· διδάσκαλε, ἐπιτίμησον τοῖς μαθηταῖς σου. καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς εἶπεν· λέγω ὑμῖν ὅτι ἐὰν οὗτοι σιωπήσουσιν, οἱ λίθοι κράξουσιν.

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Luke 19:41-44 (Jesus weeps over Jerusalem, and while not present in Mark, clearly written after the fall of Jerusalem):

Καὶ ὡς ἤγγισεν, ἰδὼν τὴν πόλιν ἔκλαυσεν ἐπ᾽ αὐτὴν λέγων ὅτι εἰ ἔγνως ἐν τῇ ἡμέρᾳ ταύτῃ καὶ σὺ τὰ πρὸς εἰρήνην· νῦν δὲ ἐκρύβη ἀπὸ ὀφθαλμῶν σου. ὅτι ἥξουσιν ἡμέραι ἐπὶ σέ, καὶ περιβαλοῦσιν οἱ ἐχθροί σου χάρακά σοι καὶ περικυκλώσουσίν σε καὶ συνέξουσίν σε πάντοθεν καὶ ἐδαφιοῦσίν σε καὶ τὰ τέκνα σου ἐν σοὶ καὶ οὐκ ἀφήσουσιν λίθον ἐπὶ λίθον ἐν σοί, ἀνθ᾽ ὧν οὐκ ἔγνως τὸν καιρὸν τῆς ἐπισκοπῆς σου.

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Luke 19:45-48 (Jesus immediately cleanses the Temple):

Καὶ εἰσελθὼν εἰς τὸ ἱερὸν ἤρξατο ἐκβάλλειν τοὺς πωλοῦντας λέγων αὐτοῖς· γέγραπται, καὶ ἔσται ὁ οἶκός μου οἶκος προσευχῆς· ὑμεῖς δὲ αὐτὸν ἐποιήσατε σπήλαιον ληστῶν. καὶ ἦν διδάσκων τὸ καθ᾽ ἡμέραν ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ· οἱ δὲ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ γραμματεῖς ἐζήτουν αὐτὸν ἀπολέσαι καὶ οἱ πρῶτοι τοῦ λαοῦ, καὶ οὐχ εὕρισκον τὸ τί ποιήσωσιν· ὁ λαὸς γὰρ ἅπας ἐξεκρέματο αὐτοῦ ἀκούων.

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Luke 20:1-8:

Καὶ ἐγένετο ἐν μιᾷ τῶν ἡμερῶν διδάσκοντος αὐτοῦ τὸν λαὸν ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ καὶ εὐαγγελιζομένου ἐπέστησαν οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ γραμματεῖς σὺν τοῖς πρεσβυτέροις καὶ εἶπαν λέγοντες πρὸς αὐτόν· εἰπὸν ἡμῖν ἐν ποίᾳ ἐξουσίᾳ ταῦτα ποιεῖς ἢ τίς ἐστιν ὁ δούς σοι τὴν ἐξουσίαν ταύτην; Ἀποκριθεὶς δὲ εἶπεν πρὸς αὐτούς· ἐρωτήσω ὑμᾶς κἀγὼ λόγον, καὶ εἴπατέ μοι· τὸ βάπτισμα Ἰωάννου ἐξ οὐρανοῦ ἦν ἢ ἐξ ἀνθρώπων; οἱ δὲ συνελογίσαντο πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς λέγοντες ὅτι ἐὰν εἴπωμεν· ἐξ οὐρανοῦ, ἐρεῖ· διὰ τί οὐκ ἐπιστεύσατε αὐτῷ; ἐὰν δὲ εἴπωμεν· ἐξ ἀνθρώπων, ὁ λαὸς ἅπας καταλιθάσει ἡμᾶς· πεπεισμένος γάρ ἐστιν Ἰωάννην προφήτην εἶναι. καὶ ἀπεκρίθησαν μὴ εἰδέναι πόθεν. καὶ ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτοῖς· οὐδὲ ἐγὼ λέγω ὑμῖν ἐν ποίᾳ ἐξουσίᾳ ταῦτα ποιῶ.

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It is noteworthy that the author of Luke includes a highly specific lament for Jerusalem (one that does not appear in any of the other Gospels):

As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying,

“If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!

But now they are hidden from your eyes.

Indeed, the days will come upon you when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you and hem you in on every side.

They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another,

because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”

Given that the gospel of Luke was written well after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 CE, the author was in a position to describe the siege and destruction of the city with striking accuracy; details that mirror the actual Roman military tactics used during the conquest. However, rather than acknowledging the historical cause of the destruction (namely, the Jewish revolt against Rome) the author attributes the catastrophe to a spiritual failure: “you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.” In doing so, Luke reframes a brutally one-sided imperial suppression as a form of divine judgment, abstracting the overwhelming force of Rome’s legions into a theological consequence for rejecting Jesus. This interpretation transforms a tragic and politically explicable event into a narrative of prophetic fulfillment and religious accountability.

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In Mark, the cursing and withering of the fig tree (Mark 11:12-14 and 20-21) is often interpreted as an allegorical judgment against the Jewish people or the nation of Judah, symbolizing their failure to bear the fruits of repentance or to recognize Jesus as the Messiah. The tree’s withering foreshadows, for some interpreters, the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE; a dramatic, almost cryptic act of judgment that leaves readers to infer its symbolic meaning. In contrast, Luke 19:41-44 makes this judgment explicit and deeply personal: Jesus approaches Jerusalem, weeps over it, and directly foretells its destruction in military terms (ramparts, siege, and the total leveling of the city) because it did not recognize “the time of your visitation from God.” Where Mark uses a veiled symbolic act, Luke offers a compassionate lament and clear prophecy, reinforcing his theological theme that rejection of Jesus leads to judgment, but doing so in a way that emphasizes sorrow over vengeance, and clarity over ambiguity. It is interesting to speculate whether the author of Luke, recognizing the fig tree episode at this point in Mark, chose to omit the puzzling and seemingly petty curse narrative, and instead substituted a direct and emotionally resonant lament for Jerusalem. If so, then rather than ignoring the moment entirely, Luke may have reframed it, offering not a story he found theologically problematic, but a more fitting expression of Jesus’s grief and the looming consequences for the city he loved.

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In conclusion, the author of Luke was clearly following the Gospel of Mark with care and consistency, yet he intentionally omitted the passage in which Jesus curses the fig tree. This omission is striking, given that the author of Luke includes both the preceding, intermediate and subsequent pericopes almost verbatim. The decision to exclude the fig tree episode indicates that the author deemed it theologically or morally inappropriate; a story that did not align with the image of Jesus he wished to present. The core of the narrative, that Jesus curses a fig tree for failing to produce fruit out of season, is not only irrational but inconsistent with the character of Jesus as portrayed in Luke, who emphasizes mercy, patience, and reasoned teaching.

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This should be critically important for anyone reading this story, whether in Mark or Matthew. The fig tree episode can only be accepted as “reasonable” if one presupposes that Jesus’s actions must be justified, regardless of how arbitrary they appear. But Luke, presented with the very same material, chose to leave it out, a silent yet powerful editorial judgment. It is, by all standards, a bizarre and troubling passage, and the author of Luke evidently saw no merit in preserving it. That absence speaks volumes.

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