Lent 4: Ssssssnakesssss

The Rev. Laura Howell
March 23, 2006
Numbers 21:4-9; Ephesians 2:1-10; John 3:14-21

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Many thanks for your wonderful hospitality, and for inviting me here to preach today. We are very excited about the sharing going on between Trinity and the Cathedral, and look forward to continuing with it.

I was wondering if there would be fewer people in church than normal today because of the readings. I know how much everybody loves ssssssnakesssss. Sssssserpentsssss. Sssslitherersssss. Assspssss. Cobrasssss. Ewwwww!

Today’s Old Testament reading is one of the Bible stories I remember most vividly from childhood. As I think back, I can still feel the shivers I got as the teacher described the people of Israel carefully watching every step they took over the dry, rocky ground, for fear they might stumble on a snake and be bitten. Or how the snakes would glide into their tents after dark and grab them. Or leap out at them from holes in the ground as they walked by. I remember the macabre picture I had in my mind of the bronze snake being hoisted up on a pole, and everybody pushing and shoving so they could get a good look at it and not die from snakebite. I imagined all the snakes rearing up on their tails, staring at it, and then rustle rustle creeping away, because now it was no use to bite anyone. Really, it is kind of a scriptural Stephen King story, isn’t it?

As a child, the lesson I took from the story is that if you’re bad, God will punish you, but will also provide a way to be saved. The story also explained to my little-kid mind why my grandmother was so afraid of snakes and always carried a hoe out into the garden. Logic wasn’t my strong suit back then….

Reading this story from an adult perspective, I realize it is far more complex. What is going on here? Israel has been a fairly rowdy people. Following a series of destructive miracles, the Egyptians have agreed to let them leave. God has led them through the Red Sea on dry land and has guided them in a pillar of fire and cloud. When they were thirsty, water miraculously appeared. When they were hungry, God sent manna. Pretty amazing series of events! And now, they are getting cranky and complaining. Again. “There’s nothing to eat. There’s nothing to drink. And I don’t like what there is to eat.”

Apparently logic is not their strong suit, either. I don’t like the food that’s on the menu, so suddenly there is nothing to eat. Sounds like some kids I know: they say that they are bored because there is nothing to do, but they sure don’t want to do homework!

Probably there wouldn’t have been a problem if this had been the first time the Israelites were complaining. But they had made a habit of it. So much so that at one point, Moses cried out to God, “Help me! Because these people are almost ready to stone me!”

It’s easy to stand back and judge the misbehavior and ingratitude of the Israelites. We can cluck our tongues and look down our noses at them, self-righteously imagining that WE would have done better. But I know how grumpy I get when I am traveling for a week and don’t get enough sleep. Or when the food isn’t right. Imagine how you would feel if you were traveling on foot for years? And in fear for your lives as well?

No, grumbling and complaining isn’t limited to the ancient Israelites. It’s a very common human trait, but a very dangerous one. This reading equates grumbling with poison. And with death. It’s a bit extreme, don’t you think, to equate the people kvetching in the wilderness with death? I’m not so sure about that, though.

Grumbling is divisive. Grumbling is subversive. Grumbling impedes progress and undermines the community. Look at what happened here: even after all the miracles they had experienced, the people began to look backward to “the good old days.” Instead of forging ahead following God and their leaders into the future, they sat down and whined about how great it was in Egypt. Of course, they conveniently forgot the horror of Egypt—their slavery, the massacre of their baby boys. But rather than go forward into an unknown land, they yearned after the past. It was uncomfortable back there, but at least it was familiar.

They are also refusing to take any responsibility for themselves. They say, “Why have YOU brought us up out of Egypt,” as though they hadn’t left on their feet. “Moses, you MADE us do it. You made these changes. NOW FIX IT!” Passing the buck is another kind of dangerous behavior. The next step in this process is either a sit-down strike or a return to the old ways. A strike in the desert would result in death from starvation, dehydration or exposure. A return to the old ways would result in death at the hands of the Egyptians. What’s a God to do? God gives them a god’s-eve view of themselves: there they are with poison slinking all over. God brings their death-inducing behavior into the light of day. Saving them, performing miracles, loving them, leading them apparently is not enough. Only suffering and death will get their attention. So let them suffer if they insist on it.

But for some inexplicable reason, God loves these people, and makes provision that if they look at the serpent on the pole, they will be healed. Therein we have the real crux of the story. The inner poison of complaining that the people enjoy is brought out into the open, where it can be seen for the danger that it is. By an act of obedience and faith, they can look on the bronze snake, and are healed.

St. John makes the connection between the snake of bronze lifted on a pole and Jesus being lifted up on the cross. He says that those who do evil, are afraid of Christ, the Light of the World, because they want their evil doings to remain hidden. Those who do what is true, come to the Light and their deeds are revealed.

This does not necessarily mean that the people of faith are perfect and that they never do anything wrong, but that they are prepared to have their hidden frailties and sins exposed to the light so they can be healed.

What an amazingly wise psychological, as well as spiritual, teaching! Sins that are kept under wraps, hatch under ground, like snakes, and breed poison. When I become poisoned, I am likely to complain and grumble and sabotage, and spread my poison to the community around me. As the Gospel says, if I do evil, I love darkness, rather than light, and will do everything I can to shutter that light. And I certainly will not enjoy associating with people who are in the light.

My sins are not private and personal. What I do affects everyone around me—the whole body of Christ. If I obey God’s call, I believe in Christ, and I become a person of light—I open mind and heart to the light, see where my sins are, and begin to deal with them. If I disobey, I stay in the darkness, and my sins eventually overtake me. If I look upon Christ and believe, I live. If I refuse, I die. According to Scripture, it is as simple as that.

It boggles the mind to think that some people might refuse such an open and welcoming invitation. Probably some of the Israelites refused to gaze on the bronze serpent. Maybe they said, “That’s superstitious claptrap.” Or, “What will people think?” Or, “I’d have to give up too much.” They refused to look, and they died.

Do you have an excuse for not walking in the Light of Christ? Are you too embarrassed to admit that you have sinned and need healing? Are you comfortable with the way things are and you’d rather not have to move on? True, we are saved by faith, completely and gratuitously. But we must look up in order to live. There is healing for what poisons us, but we must reach out for it. Amen.