Scripture:
And just as 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.
“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
~John 3:14-17
From Mount Hor they set out by the way to the Red Sea, to go around the land of Edom; but the people became impatient on the way. The people spoke against God and against Moses, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.” Then the Lord sent poisonous serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many Israelites died. The people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned by speaking against the Lord and against you; pray to the Lord to take away the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people. And the Lord said to Moses, “Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.” So Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live.
~Numbers 21:4-9
We have what is, honestly, one of the weirder passages from scripture today, side by side with one of the most beloved. And the reason they are side by side, is, they are connected. Jesus makes the connection, in his conversation with the Pharisee Nicodemus.
Nicodemus was a good man, though he was uncertain about Jesus, which is why he chose to visit in the middle of the night. Their conversation was wide-ranging, but at a certain point, Jesus made a startling statement. He said, “Just as 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.”
Jesus is talking about about being lifted up on the cross, and as he does, be brings in this story from the wilderness wanderings of his people. A story, frankly, in which God has kind of had it with them. Following their glorious escape and release from slavery, the reality of life in the wilderness has soured God’s people on the freedom life. It’s easy to mock them, but they have a point. They’ve had more than their fill of manna and quail, and there’s no water to be had. They complain loudly to Moses.
So God sends snakes. Poisonous serpents: the Hebrew words are, literally, “the serpents, the burning ones.”
These serpents bite the people. Many die.
This is not the God I want. This angry God, who lashes out at people for telling the truth about their desperation, in a desperate situation. This God is too small. This God is too petty.
This God is too much like me.
I do not like you, God-I-Am.
You can feel the raging fear and frustration of people who know their lives are in danger, while the only One with power to help feels hopelessly silent, and absent, and uncaring.
How could God let this happen?
How could God do this to me? To us?
How could God be so cruel as to inflict this pain… or be so callous as to let it happen?
The stories we find in scripture tell us just as much about ourselves as they do about God. Sometimes, the way they purport to tell us about God, is the very thing that tells us about ourselves. God responds to this complaining like an overtaxed mother with unruly children—God responds the way we might respond, in all our finitude, in our limited capacity for goodness and grace. We might lash out. We might yell, in the words of the mother of someone in our Bible Study, “Stop crying, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”
In the world of this story, the people are punished for their sin. They confess. They ask Moses to intercede, to pray for them to God. And God immediately provides them a means for reconnection.
Again, God reminds me of me, of us, just a little bit… willing to forgive, but wanting the person who’s hurt me to, you know, show me that they’re sorry in some tangible way.
On the face of it, God’s solution is a weird one. Moses has to fashion a serpent, which is by no means a one-hour DIY project. He has to find the copper and tin and maybe some other metals and arsenic. Then he has to get his hands on sufficient materials to make a fire hot enough to melt them, and when the molten mixture is cool enough to handle, shape it into a serpent—a serpent of bronze.
In other words, reconnection, healing relationships, may require some sweat equity. Here, Moses is doing it on behalf of the people, but generally, we need to figure out what it will take for our remorse to be authentic to the person we have harmed.
But again, that’s people. Why do I have the funny feeling this is all more about how people react when they are hurt, than how God reacts?
Moses attaches the serpent to a pole, presumably, by winding it around, and there we see it…the caduceus, the symbol of the snake, snakes, wound around a pole, for centuries, in multiple cultures, a symbol of healing.
But there it is. God gives the people something to look at—that’s all, they must lift their eyes and look at it. And that means they must look away from their pain, for just a moment, and look away from the serpents. They must look away from their own dissatisfaction with the way things are, there in the wilderness, and look up. They must look up at the bronze serpent, but, really, don’t you think they are looking up even further than that? That their eyes, when lifted from what ails them, are able to look to the God who wants to heal them?
And suddenly this image—healing lifted up for all to see—becomes like the banner of a victorious army, something to give courage, to hold the people together, to let them know, they are not alone.
Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever gazes upon him... whoever places their trust in him… may have life.
God has already provided the means by which we may draw near, because once we lift our heads to God, the battle is as good as over. Christ is victorious.
I’m not saying that this is simple, and I’m not saying this is easy. I’m not saying don’t go to the specialist, or get the vaccine, or try to make amends as you are able. But every one of these things becomes clearer, more urgent to us, and yes, easier, when we remember who we are and whose we are, when we lift our eyes to the mountains, from whence comes our help. When we look upon reminders that our God is here for us, and that our Christ is healing for us, and the Spirit offers abundance of life beyond our imaginings.
When we survey the wondrous cross on which Christ is lifted up, our hearts can’t help remembering his being lifted up out of the tomb, raised to new life breathing forgiveness. Our hearts can’t help wonder at the ways in which we are lifted up, too, and caught up in that wondrous web of love and forgiveness. This is the victory of our God, over all that would harm or destroy. This is Christ’s victory, for us.
Thanks be to God. Amen.