On Temples and Tabernacles
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and was God… The word became flesh and tabernacled amongst us, and we have seen his glory…” (John 1:1, 14)
John’s gospel doesn’t begin with the birth of Jesus. There are no stories of controversial conceptions, angelic messengers, or various unexpected visitors to be enjoyed. Nevertheless, John does give us a beautiful, poetic account of Jesus’ identity and the significance of his coming. In his rich introduction, he describes Jesus not just as God, but a god who chose to ’tabernacle amongst us’. I believe this brief and simple phase communicates the same essential message and understanding regarding Jesus that the nativities of Matthew and Luke are trying to get across. I also believe that if we meditate on this line from John, we might appreciate those classic Christmas stories afresh.
The primary thing I think it is important to reflect on here is that John describes Jesus as ‘tabernacling’ amongst us, rather than ‘temple-ing’ amongst us. I can’t help but see this depiction as highly significant and theologically subversive.
It might well have made more sense to describe Jesus in the terms of the temple. The temple was, after all, a more magisterial, impressive, beautiful building - one that superseded the tabernacle centuries ago. It served as the epicentre of the Jewish faith, a permanent place of pilgrimage for both Jews and gentiles, the most holy site of worship. It was built to declare the glory of Yahweh and to represent Yahweh’s faithfulness to the people. It stood at the heart of Jerusalem as the defining landmark, the embodiment and hallmark of the nation. It was for Yahweh’s people at the time, as the Whitehouse is to America today; the epitomising image of all that they were and all that they longed to be.
But still, John chose the tabernacle, preferring to depict Jesus more as a tent than a temple. Why? And what has any of this got to do with Christmas and the nativity stories? Well… let’s unpack a little of what made the tabernacle distinct…
Firstly, the tabernacle was simple, almost embarrassingly so. What other ancient nation had the audacity to claim that their god was one and only true God, Lord of the universe, creator of all things, and yet then house that god in a tent? Don’t get me wrong, the tabernacle was a rather nice tent; meticulously designed with precise and pleasing proportions, elegantly woven out of fine, multicoloured yarns; beautifully embroidered by skilled workman with the images of angels so that when you were in it, it was as if you were standing in heaven itself. It was pretty fancy stuff by tent standards but in a world where everyone made giant stone pillared temples for their gods, it lacked the impressiveness, the refinement, the other-worldly splendour that you would expect or look for.
Interestingly, this appears to have been a source of tension for Israel. David was desperate to build a more fitting monument to Yahweh: “Here I am, living in a house of cedar, while the ark of the covenant of the Lord is under a tent,” he once said to himself (1 Ch 17:1). But it was David, not Yahweh, who was bothered. Yahweh’s response to David was pretty frank:
“I have not dwelt in a house from the day I brought Israel up out of Egypt to this day. I have moved from one tent site to another, from one dwelling place to another. Wherever I have moved with all the Israelites, did I ever say to any of their leaders whom I commanded to shepherd my people, ‘Why have you not built me a house of cedar?’” (1 Ch 17:5-6)
There’s something about the nature of Yahweh that is a lot more humble than we tend to be. We tend to want the best, we’re lured by extravagance and often embarrassed by things that are more modest than we would like. But Yahweh appears to be more interested in tabernacles than temples; more at home in simplicity than grandeur.
And so, the word became flesh and tabernacled amongst us.
Jesus did not arrive in the splendour we might expect. As Luke and Matthew tell us, the God of the universe chose to incarnate themselves not into royalty but into a humdrum, everyday kind of family. The Word by which all creation was brought into existence, took on the form of an everyday workman, not that of an Emperor, King or even upper-class elite. He took his first steps in a normal home, not a palace as we, along with the magi, might have expected. And that seemed to be the way Jesus wanted it. That is the kind of God he is.
The word became flesh and tabernacled amongst us, and in so doing he redefined glory.
As well as its humble simplicity, a second feature of the tabernacle I find profound is its mobility and accessibility. As we’ve already seen, Yahweh seemed to enjoy the fact that the tabernacle was able to move from one site to another. During Israel’s forty years in the wilderness, it was always positioned right at the centre of the whole camp. Visible to all, accessible to all. And it journeyed with them, always present and at the heart of things.
The primary purpose of the tabernacle was to house the ark of the covenant which was literally the seat where the presence of God rested and was located. Like the tabernacle, the ark was mobile and could go to where the people needed it. It went ahead of them as a guide when they moved through the wilderness (Nu 10:33-35, Josh 3:3-4). It brought God’s blessing or judgement wherever it went, depending on how it was received and treated. Those that mistreated it, or sought to own it or wield it as their own, those who did not recognise it for what it was, they often experienced it as a curse. But those who appreciated it, revered it, cared for it, always encountered it as a blessing. What’s interesting is that when Solomon built the temple the ark was placed there and then seemingly all but forgotten. We hear little more about it after that, save for a few references to some kings who either visit it or restore it to its rightful place - presumably because it got moved to a broom cupboard somewhere by other kings!. In the temple, God’s presence became static, confined, shut away, forgotten, inaccessible. Whereas in the tabernacle it was enabled to roam free.
The good news is that Yahweh’s presence cannot be confined to the back room of a temple. Yahweh is the God who meets Hagar in the desert, Jacob by a well, Moses in a burning bush. Yahweh is the god who follows the people into exile and draws them out again; the god who blesses and works with and in and through those who will receive them - even unexpected characters such as Rahab, Balaam, Ruth, Nebuchednezzar, Cyrus. Yahweh is an active god, a moving god. A god who longs to be accessible, who goes to where they’re wanted and needed.
And so the word became flesh and tabernacled amongst us.
When Jesus came, it was at his initiative. He did the moving and he moved towards us. Jesus was the very presence of God and, as Matthew and Luke recount throughout their gospels, he made it his mission to be mobile. He moved around in order to be accessible to different people, to make himself available - both to Jewish shepherds and gentile magi alike. He went where people might need him and to those who received him he brought blessing, light and life.
The word become flesh and tabernacle amongst us, in order that we might encounter him.
These aspects of Jesus’ tabernacling - his splendid simplicity, his mobile accessibility - are hallmarks not just of his birth but his entire life, teaching and ministry.
The same humility was on show when he entered Jerusalem, in the way that he died, in the way that he spent his time post resurrection; it is present in the meal he left us with, and the fundamental commands he gave us to love and serve one another. The same mobile accessibility drove him all across the region of Galilee and continues through his sending of the apostles, and the gifting of the Spirit to all believers.
These hallmarks of Jesus’ life are also meant to be the hallmarks of ours: for we are his followers and made in his image.
So this Christmas let us reflect on the God who wants to tabernacle in our midst. Let us receive him and all that his tabernacling means. Let us embrace the life of love that encourages us to reject the grandiose, embrace the simple, and go to where people are and need us. Let us become children of God and set up tabernacles of our own through which others might encounter him.
