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| The Banyan Tree Church The subject of today’s lesson is the tree. I recently sat under a remarkable tree — but more on that in a moment. Faithful readers of “The Back Page” will recall that I’ve waxed modestly about trees on two other occasions: The General Sherman Sequoia in Sequoia National Park, California (November-December 2002), and The Heritage Tree, a giant spruce on the Oregon coast which sprang from a “nurse log” (November-December 2006). The archetype of the tree is an important device in both Scripture and literature. Indeed, the Bible begins with “the tree of life” (Genesis 2:9) and ends with the “tree of life” (Revelation 22:19). Adam and Eve were not to eat of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, but the Tree of Life was not off limits. The psalmist wrote of the righteous as a “tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither” (Psalm 1:3 NIV). John the Baptist’s hellfire and brimstone sermons invoked the image of an unfruitful tree that’s “cut down and thrown into the fire” (Matthew 3:10 NIV). Jesus said that a “tree” is “recognized by its fruit” (Matthew 12:33 NIV). And Jesus died on a cross which is sometimes expressed as “hanging on a tree” (cf. Galatians 3:13), as, for example, in hymnody, of which John Newton’s hymn is a classic example: I saw One hanging on a tree/ In agony and blood,/ Who fixed His languid eyes on me,/ As near His cross I stood./ O, can it be, upon a tree,/ The Savior died for me?/ My soul is thrilled, my heart is filled,/ To think He died for me! Most creation stories involve a tree or some kind of trees. Islam has its Tree of Paradise. In Norse mythology, the tree Yggdrasil, also called The World Tree, is a giant ash that connects the underworld at the roots, the world at the trunk and the heavens with its branches. Millennial kids will recall J.R.R. Tolkien’s Ents, a race of humanoid trees which sometimes would convene an Entmoot, a meeting of the Ents of Fangorn Forest at Derndingle. In the Hellenistic world of Jesus’ day, the tree, especially the olive tree, had both mythic and practical importance, so much so that when adversaries in armed conflict swept through a region, they made a point of uprooting as many of their enemy’s trees as possible. Longfellow placed his village blacksmith under a “spreading oak tree,” and Joyce Kilmer famously wrote that “I think that I shall never see/ a poem as lovely as a tree.” Ogden Nash, revised this to say, “I think that I shall never see a billboard lovely as a tree./ Indeed, unless the billboards fall, I shall never see a tree at all.” N.T. Wright, in Simply Christian, has an interesting observation about trees and the rivers that nurture them. A river, he says, exists as many, many springs, lakes, streams and brooks which eventually converge and spill into what becomes a mighty river, and thus, from the many emerges the one. A tree, however, begins as a single seed, and then produces a network of far-reaching roots, a mighty trunk which itself develops into large limbs shooting off in many directions which in turn bear branches and then twigs and leaves. From the one comes the many. In both the river and the tree, Wright sees a metaphor for the church: In the former, diversity gives way to unity; in the latter, unity generates diversity. In summary, the tree in Scripture and literature, came to be understood as representing the life of the cosmos, as growth and fruitfulness, sometimes a symbol of immortality. I love trees. Most of us do. At the heart of the Green movement is the desire to “save a tree.” I recently had an opportunity to sit under an extraordinary tree, a Banyan tree. The Banyan is native to India, but they can be found in the United States and other parts of the world, especially Asia. The Banyan tree is valued for many reasons, not the least of which is that it offers so many uses. Its sap and bark provide medicinal uses in folk remedies for ulcers and tonics, skin disorders, even tooth inflammation. The bark and wood can be made into paper, the roots are sometimes used as cords to tie up bundles of wood or other products. It produces a type of rubber; the sap and milk are used for gardening or even for polishing brass and copper. The Banyan tree itself is fascinating. It grows as a young tree and then, as it gets larger and older, the heavy limbs put forth roots which drop to the ground to form a secondary trunk to support the large limbs. Step under an old Banyan tree, and you are stepping into what looks like a mini-forest. They can grow, therefore, to an absolutely enormous size. Alexander the Great is said to have camped out under a Banyan tree that was large enough to shelter his army of 7,000 men. The Banyan has a long life span. The tree I sat under was about 1,500 years old. Couldn’t get 7,000 soldiers under it, but it was old and huge. I saw all of the secondary trunks supporting the older, heavy limbs, I saw a large area under it where people could gather, as indeed they do in many Asian communities, to discuss issues and concerns of a village, and I saw a metaphor for the church. A large host trunk, many long, large and heavy limbs extending in all directions, supporting trunks and root systems, a huge shaded area where people could gather in community, find shelter from the storm or rest from their labors. I saw the Church. Thomas Merton translated a curious exchange between Chuang Tzu, a disciple of Lao-Tzu, and a critic, Hui Tzu. Hui was dismissiveof Chuang’s ideas saying that they reminded him of a “stink-tree” in his back yard that had a trunk that was so “full of knots” that no one could get a “straight plank out of it.” Its branches were “so crooked, you cannot cut them up in any way that makes sense.” It stands by the road and no carpenter will even look at it. “Such is your teaching,” Hui said, “big and useless.” Chuang Tzu replied by asking if Hui had ever seen a wildcat, swift and clever, flexible and mobile but prone to falling into a hunter’s trap. Or had he seen an ox? It’s big “as a thundercloud” and just as mighty, but can’t catch a mouse! Yet, is the wildcat or the ox useless? Is the stink-tree useless? If it is so useless, Chuang said, then Hui should “plant it in the wasteland in emptiness,” and “rest under its shadow … No one will ever cut it down.” The Church: big as a Banyan tree, large limbs and supporting branches. A place of shelter and rest. Often described as useless, knotty, ugly, inflexible, can’t catch a mouse, or prone to fall into a hunter’s snare. Let the Church be the church. Let the Church be planted in the wasteland. Let it offer its shelter where weary souls can gather and find rest.
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