[sermon] Jesus is a disappointing snake god (but an okay savior)

Sermon for the people of God at St. Mark Hope and Peace Lutheran Church, preached Sunday, 2018-03-11. Lent 4B.

Preaching text: John 3:14-21

See also:
Numbers 21:4-9 and 2 Kings 18:1-4 for the full saga of the bronze serpent.

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John 3:14

Or, here’s something you don’t see on billboards or bumper stickers or posters at sporting events.

“Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.”

This is a weird, unsettling story, and we tend to skim past it in our eagerness to get to John 3:16 and 17, to “God so loved the world” and “God came into the world not to condemn the world but to save it.”

The weird story with the bronze snake lifted up,
(the weird story with God’s own child hung on a cross)
that story we tell less enthusiastically.

That story is less comforting.

Of course there are actually several stories here, acting as commentary on each other, and part of what feels so confusing about being here is that we’re thrown into the middle of several stories.

story one

One dark night, a Jewish leader named Nicodemus slipped away and found the place in Jerusalem where Jesus was staying, and Nicodemus asked Jesus some questions to which Jesus gave typically cryptic, confusing Jesus-like answers. Nicodemus asked, “How can a person be born of the Spirit?” and our Gospel text for this morning is part of Jesus’ answer.

story two

Once upon a time, when Israel had already been wandering in the desert for a long time, everyone was tired and cranky and hungry. The food was boring and terrible, water was scarce, and everyone was bored and whiny and thoroughly sick of everyone, especially God and God’s buddy Moses who had brought them on this trip.

They kicked the back of God’s seat one too many times and God turned around and said “THAT’S IT” and set poisonous snakes on them.

Then the people talked to Moses and Moses talked to God, the same conversation they’d had over and over again, “Look, everyone is really sorry about kicking your seat and calling your manna gross and forgetting that you rescued us from Israel, please please please forgive us and get rid of these snakes.”

And Moses, in his role as magician, the one with the magic staff that could turn into a snake (Exodus 7:8ff) and part the sea (Exodus 14:21-22) and get water from a rock (Exodus 17:1-7), makes a magical snake out of bronze, mounts it on a magical pole, and heals people of their snakebites.

Many, many years later, when King Hezekiah is ruling in Judah, he clears out all the idols and temples to idols he can find – uproots sacred trees and breaks sacred poles, and smashes Moses’ bronze serpent to smithereens. (2 Kings 18:4)

story three

The idea that the image of a snake could cure the bite of an actual snake is the “hair of the dog that bit you” theory – which is actually kind of how vaccines work, right, injecting a less-deadly version of an illness into the body to protect it from the heavy duty version.

It’s not a bronze bull or a silver dove curing snake bites – it’s a snake. But it’s a snake that’s not really a snake (because it’s made of bronze) and it’s also not really the snake that’s doing the healing at all – that’s God.

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There are more stories being told, of course, but let’s take these three for now – the story of Nicodemus conversing with Jesus, the story of Moses’ bronze snake, and the story that a fake snake can cure a real snakebite –

and think about how Jesus is like a bronze snake.

How can an image of a snake cure a snakebite? and Why would anyone believe that it could?
and
How is the monstrous evil of Jesus’ crucifixion a triumph over evil?

As Nicodemus asks, “How can these things be?”

There are many answers to these questions – but, like Jesus’ answers to all questions, they might be more roundabout and cryptic than we would prefer.

How can these things be?

Jesus hangs on a cross for the same reason that the bronze serpent is lifted up – to cure humanity of an evil we’ve inflicted on ourselves.

Jesus hangs on a cross for the same reason Moses didn’t elevate a bull or a duck or a goat – because the problem was snakes.

When the problem is humans, the cure is also human –

the snake that Moses made isn’t a real snake, made of flesh and blood and bones and scales and venom – but Jesus is a real human, made of human flesh and blood and bones – and venom.

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We’re going to take a detour for a moment but I promise we’re coming back to Jesus’ venom.

story four

A couple of weeks ago we learned that many women were accusing Sherman Alexie, a notable Native American (Spokane/Coeur d'Alene) author, of sexual harassment. I mention Alexie because this was a Big Deal in our household, but this is, obviously, a story that’s been playing out again and again as people – mostly women – come forward with stories of powerful people – mostly men – abusing their power.

When I read about Alexie I texted Joanie (my housemate, sitting in the front pew) to say, “So, bad news about one of your faves.”

And ze replied:
oh no
oh no
oh no

Later ze said, “I guess the lesson is just not to have any heroes because everyone will ultimately disappoint you – obvious exception for Jesus.”

And I said, “Well, darn, now you’ve spoiled the ending of my sermon.”

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I’ve been thinking about Joanie’s disappointment in the context of this passage, thinking about what it means to lift someone (or something) up.

We elevate things to make them visible. Those billboards with John 3:16, Moses’ snake – this pulpit. So people will see them and take note and get the benefits – the healing power of Moses’ snake, the good news of God’s love for the world.

When we lift things up it’s easy to see their rough outline – their larger than life quality – and harder to see the nuances, the fine points.

Reading John 3:16 on a billboard going 70 on I-70 is different than sitting down and reading it in your own Bible, together with all the other verses that make up Jesus’ answer to Nicodemus, which is part of the longer story that John is telling about Jesus, which is itself part of the Bible in all its difficulty and complexity.

Looking up at a bronze snake, you can see only that it’s a snake, not the imperfections in the bronze and the nicks in the sculpture, not the reminders that it’s just an object and not a god.

And God lifted up, out of this world, elevated and looking down –

that God is different from the God who came down.

When God became flesh, God took on human blood and bones and skin, human flesh and human venom –

I wanted to be able to stand here and tell you that Jesus will never disappoint you but I can’t.

In lots of ways and for lots of reasons. Jesus was forever a disappointment – to parents who expected an obedient son and got a kid who ran off in the middle of the most crowded city in the country at the most crowded time of year. (Luke 2:41-50)

To everyone who was expecting a Messiah who could cure their illness with a glance and maybe drive off Roman occupiers with lasers from his eyes.

To Nicodemus, who came to Jesus after dark to ask some questions and got a longwinded not entirely relevant answer and also a passive-aggressive dig about people who do things at night, people who do evil and hate the light (like honestly Jesus some of us are just night owls, okay?)

And besides all these pious reasons – Jesus was disappointing to people who wanted the wrong things – Jesus is disappointing because Jesus is human. To be human is to be limited – unable to be everywhere you’re needed, not having enough energy to do all the good you want to – and then there’s that human venom, too, the impatience and pettiness and even selfishness that led Jesus to snap at the disciples (too many instances to cite) and curse an innocent fruit-bearing shrub (Matthew 21:18//Mark 11:12-14) and tell a Syro-Phoenician woman that his ministry wasn’t for her (Matthew 15:21-28//Mark 7:24-30).

We’d like to think, of course, that Jesus would never disappoint us, that we aren’t like those foolish disciples, that we aren’t like those bloodthirsty zealots who wanted an armed messiah – but that’s an arrogant assumption, or at the very least naive. If we’re never disappointed by Jesus, we don’t really know Jesus all that well. We’re still looking at him from a distance, up there and out of reach.

But (you might be thinking) the Son of Man must be lifted up.

And that’s true.

And Jesus’ elevation on the cross, Jesus hanging on the tree, was the biggest disappointment of all to his followers.

Jesus being hung on a cross is a kind of being lifted up, but not the kind that’s meant to bring honor to the lifted one. The cross is a place of shame. It’s a place where people are hung as an example – not an example to be emulated, but an example to be spurned. Not, “Go and do likewise,” but “Don’t do like they did or you’ll get what they got.”

And into this place of shame, God came.

God saw that the venom of humanity – our violence, our greed, our selfishness – was poisoning us – and God’s love for us was so great that God took on our humanity – our vulnerable flesh and our venomous feelings –

and told us, poisoned by evil, to lift our eyes to the cross, where a still greater evil had hung our Lord

because ultimately, ultimately, Jesus didn’t disappoint. Rebellious preteen Jesus became obedient even unto death, and took the lead role in God’s perplexing drama.

Perplexing, because we still don’t understand how this can be, how the cross works. But while how might be unclear, but the why never is.

Because God so loved the world that God gave God’s only son to hang high on a cross for the world to see, and, in seeing, be saved.