4 Lent 2015
So, an elementary school teacher
invites her students to bring something from their religious traditions to
share with the class for “show and tell.” A little girl stands up, and says her
name is Mary Catherine and that she is Roman Catholic and says this is a Rosary. Next, a little boy
stands up and says his name is Jacob, he explains that he is Jewish, and he
says this is a dreidel. Another
little boy stands up and says his name is Billy, and he says he’s a Methodist,
and says this is a casserole dish…
Maybe it’s not being fair to Methodists—and
really I’ve heard this joke with a variety of other denominations besides—but,
the point is well taken: symbols, when they have meaning, can captivate us, and
even draw us into a much deeper kind of consideration of its meaning. On the
other hand, if a symbol is sort of anemic in its ability to communicate meaning,
then it’s easily dismissed and forgotten—and, perhaps things like casserole
dishes become all that we’re left with…
But when we’re attentive to symbol,
and do our best to invite conversation about and with the symbols we have in
our faith…well, we invite the opportunity to engage the mystery of God in any
number of ways.
In today’s Gospel reading we
encounter something like this… Jesus explains to Nicodemus, (who happens to be
a Pharisee—but one who is captivated by Jesus) Jesus says that in the same way
that Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be
lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.
I can only imagine the reference
was clearer to Nicodemus, because I think for most of us, if we didn’t also
have this specific reading from Numbers as our Old Testament reading; I would
imagine we’d find ourselves as baffled as Adam on Mother’s Day (that’s another
bad religious joke, by the way…I’ll try not to do it again).
Anyway, even if Nicodemus did have some idea to what Jesus was
making reference, I have to wonder if he was gathering what it was that Jesus
was getting at. I mean it’s weird enough that Moses and Aaron were lifting up a
bronze snake, on a stick, so that all of these people who had been bitten by
snakes could be healed. Already I’m left scratching my head at the meaning of
that… So, to then expect that from that reference someone could draw some connection
and conclusion from Jesus just seems like a flying leap in reason.
After all, this incident with the
bronze serpent is kind of an odd
story. Israel, as we often find them during their wandering in the wilderness,
are of course complaining. They don’t like the sand; they don’t like the water;
they don’t like the manna; and certainly don’t like that the people of Edom
weren’t willing to let them cut through their land. The people of Israel were
already cranky, but to find themselves on a “creative detour” was just too
much. So, they did what they normally did—they grumbled.
However, when the people get enough
of being bitten by snakes, some of them even dying; they turn to Moses and
confess their faults, so that Moses asks God to help them. And…as we already
know, they’re told to make a bronze snake (the translation should be more like
“fiery” serpent instead of “poisonous”), but the people who look to this
serpent are miraculously healed. But, it’s to be understood that since it was
God who was asked for the healing, that the healing was associated with the
power of God, and not the snake.
Incidentally, the symbol of the
serpent (aside from the serpent mentioned in Genesis) was actually considered a
holy symbol to Israel after this event, and remained so until after the reign
of King David…
But, what is it about this bronze
snake that is supposed to make any sense to us? Well, for starters, serpents
were considered sacred, and worshipped by most of the cultures who neighbored
Israel. So, this was either a sacred symbol that Israel (kind of) stole from these cultures because these
were more dominant people groups, or just because they thought it was cool.
This seems to make some
sense—especially when we see things like Leviathan and Behemoth being made fun
of throughout the Old Testament—and these were, of course, considered major
deities to other cultures in this region. Of course, we’re also familiar with
the serpent in the Garden of Eden in the Creation story—same idea…
Well…even after all of that, we may
be wondering what all of this has to do with Jesus. I would imagine there are a
number of times throughout my sermons that you ask yourself this very question…
What I think we’re supposed to get
(at least on the surface) from this analogy that Jesus makes is this idea that
Jesus, by his crucifixion, will be made a kind of symbol which will be lifted
up. And, like the bronze serpent, those who look to Jesus will receive life.
But, like I said earlier, symbol,
when it is used really well, can invite us to more conversation with its
meaning—and can offer us another glimpse into the deeper mystery of God. This
case is no different.
All the same, Jesus, who was
neither a violent criminal, nor was he a traitor was executed by
crucifixion—and in this way subverts the power of fear and evil that the cross
had for people. So, just as God subverts the serpent gods of Israel’s regional
neighbors all those generations ago—so, Jesus subverts the perceived power of
the cross, and it’s constant reminder of violent death (which some might argue
is a kind of god in and of itself)…
Finally, what’s also interesting,
is that we’re told later on in Scripture that it is the power of God which
raises Jesus from the dead—and through his sacrifice, we are also forgiven and
promised new life and resurrection ourselves. So, here again, the power of God
is seen to be at work in subversive, even contrary symbols. We’re given new and
eternal life through Christ’s death. We’re forgiven our sins by an innocent man
being executed in the manner of criminals. And, we’re called beloved daughters
and sons of God, because in that moment God’s Son was abandoned to death on a
cross.
The point of all of this is, as we
continue toward the end of the Lenten Season, and in preparation for Easter, we
begin to uncover some of the signs and symbols of our faith (“behold, I make
all things new”)—is it possible for us to perhaps consider them in a renewed
way? Is there a way in which these things, the cross; baptism; communion—some
of which may have become commonplace to us over time—is there a way for them to
be given new meaning in the dawning light of the Easter mystery?
Personally, I believe they can. I
believe that not only can the symbols of our faith—but the sacraments, the
stories—all of it—can find, or even reclaim their meaning. But, of course, the
only way that this can really happen is if we’re willing to give ourselves to
be intentional, (and even in conversation) with the meaning of these symbols of
God’s connection to us. We can’t forget that Communion and Communication have
the same root. More importantly, we need
to be intentional and in conversation with the One who gives us these symbols
and sacraments, and gives each one of them their meaning—the God and Father of
us all who invites us to loving and transformative relationship.
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