Jesus’s “I am” statements in John’s Gospel often make a connection between him and the Temple.
In Jn 8, Jesus was in the Temple at the harvest-feast of Tabernacles.(cf 7.2) The final ceremony of this feast happened at dawn on the last (8th) day. It was simple, but powerful. Two priests solemnly processed down the Temple steps to the Eastern Gate, then turned around again to face the Temple; the Holy of Holies, deliberately turning their backs on the rising sun. This showed they weren’t like the pagan sun-worshippers reviled in Ezekiel 8.16f; Jews worshiped the true God! (m Sukkah 5.4)
What does this have to do with Jesus? At this festival, said (8.12) “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” He’s claiming to be himself what this temple was for the Jewish people; the dwelling place of God. Jesus demands that his followers shift their gaze away from the Temple, and instead, turn to face him. Today’s I am statement—I am the true vine—also seems to be a temple reference, and also fits this startling category of supplanting the temple with his own body.
The archæological architect, Leen Ritmeyer is a world authority on the Temple of Jesus’ time. He and an Englishman Alec Garrard have designed and built a scale model of the Temple on the basis of Ritmeyer’s research. Inside the facade of its porch are four columns, and wreathed up and over them is a huge vine wrought from gold; the Golden Vine of the Temple. Pilgrims would bring golden leaves and clusters of golden grapes for it to add to the Temple’s splendour. In the Mishnah it says that: “whosoever gave a leaf, or a berry, or a cluster as a freewill-offering … brought it and [the priests] hung it there”. (Middot 3.8) . This vine, represented Israel. It graced the doorway into the Holy of Holies itself. (See p.4 below)
When Jesus said I am the true vine, he was declaring that he superseded all this in his own person. By me—by this doorway—you enter the presence of God. I am the way.
Vines have a mind of their own, don’t they. If you watch them grow, you see creation at work before your very eyes. Almost overnight, you see those little tendrils stretch out looking for the next thing to grab onto. What they grab onto sets the direction of growth for the rest of the vine. Plants relate to their environments like that, don’t they. They adapt and belong. So it’s a really interesting picture Jesus gives us of ourselves as the church, a plant image. It allows for almost unlimited variety.
Often when we think of an image of Christian community, we think in terms of Paul’s image of us as a human body; the body of Christ. In that image, Christ is the head and we are the various members.
Today’s gospel image of Christ as the vine and us as the branches is different. I like it. It gives the sense that each of us can both contribute to the well-being of the vine itself and also look after those who need its fruit. I also see the vine growing in the soil as a picture of Jesus connecting us with the source of our being. It’s an organic, reciprocal image of a church community which can grow and spread in order to give pleasure and refreshment and shade and beauty.
I think that in terms of where this parish might flourish, this image of us as a plant is really helpful. The image of the body is also wonderful; don’t get me wrong. But that’s more an image of the proper internal functioning of a local church. It doesn’t imply the connection with the church’s environment like the plant image does. Human bodies are essentially the same the world over, but plants can be utterly different from each other—each specially adapted to its particular environment. And the body image for a church doesn’t relate to our reason for being in the same way that the plant image does, either.
So sticking with plants, I’d like to move to considering another one that may have a bit more to do with our church’s Anglo-Saxon heritage; one called the Major Oak. I’ll explain why in a minute. … (See p.4 below)
Peter Pillinger is a Methodist from the UK, who is involved in the fresh expressions team in London. That’s a group exploring what they call fresh—or new expressions of being church. The jargon goes that we need a mixed economy church. Different age groups, different cultural groups, different interest groups each like to have their own specialised style of being church. Some like to meet in their homes; some in cafes; some out in nature. The mixed economy church tries to cater to these varieties in taste. So this parish of Stirling is very much a mixed economy parish.
**But in a talk that Peter Pillinger gave in Canberra, he talked not about the mixed economy church but about the mixed ecology church. He said mixed economy says it’s good to have what we have already. But mixed ecology, says that “in every niche of our society, there needs to be a Christian presence which is the right plant to be growing there. It has to shape itself to bring life to the ecological niche that it’s growing in.” And just as every ecological niche on the planet is interlinked, so this expression mixed ecology speaks about the inter-connectedness of the church.
That might sound a bit baffling. But Pillinger explains what he means by telling the story of the Major Oak; an ancient oak tree growing in Sherwood Forest which is over 800 years old. (John was King of England from 6/4/1199 until his death in 1216.)
The Major Oak is held up by beams which support its branches, steel hawsers suspending other branches, and a metal band around the trunk so that it doesn’t fall apart. It’s magnificent, and people reverence this ancient beast.
It’s still producing acorns, and every year, those acorns are gathered up and they’re planted in different countries around the world. And in every place where they are planted, they carry the DNA of the original tree. But the shape of each tree will be different depending on local environmental conditions.”
We need to imagine what Jesus wants us to do when he says we are branches of the vine which must bear fruit. What will our fruit enable? Amen.