The Truth Before Freud
A sermon for the fourth Sunday in Lent, offered by The Rev. Earl William Greene, Jr., based on Numbers 21:4-9 and John 3:14-21.
A mother was walking by the door to the room where her newborn infant was sleeping. She saw her three-year old son standing at the edge of the crib studying the baby. This seemed worth watching! After a bit, her three year old said, "Jimmy, it's me, Danny. Tell me what God looks like. I'm beginning to forget."
From the mouth of this three year old we hear what we know is part of the truth. This life can divert us from "the way God looks." Who knows, maybe infants do know God better than we do. Maybe the further we get from our Source the harder it is to remember whose we are, and what life is all about.
Consider the Israelites, wandering for forty years out there in the desert. That wonderful day when they were liberated from slavery in Egypt was long past. In a way, they had forgotten what God "looked like."
Faithful Moses was always trying to help them to remember. He would say, "remember how the good news of our being set free came so fast that in just a few hours we were out of there? Remember the Passover when God kept us from harm? Remember the big celebration at the Red Sea when Miriam danced for joy? Remember the time we ran out of food, and God created manna? Remember the time we were parched for water, and God brought forth water from a cliff as if by magic? Remember how scared we were out here in the night, and God put a pillar of fire up in the sky to reassure us? Remember when we were hungry and there was no manna, so God sent us quail? We had a feast with singing and dancing, and we ate all night long! I know this trip isn't an easy one, but we're okay."
No, they didn't remember. Some of them hadn't been born yet. How could they remember? Maybe these were just "tall tales." So, they sat in their tents at night and wondered - "is God with us, or not?"
The trip was grueling. Day after day, traveling in the hot sun, saving every precious drop of water, every little morsel of food as though it may be their last.
"Why did we come here, Moses! We could die out here. Weren't there any graves in Egypt left so that we had to come out here to be buried? Moses, there's nothing to eat. We're sick and tired of this quail!"
Now in the past, God would always manage to send something to lift their spirits. What they found this time were snakes! "Moses! You must be kidding! Snakes? These snakes are out to get us, Moses. Any snake would be bad enough, but these snakes are poisonous. They'll kill us! What kind of God plays a gruesome trick on us like this?"
Moses tried to put things into some kind of perspective: "Remember when we were..." But they stop him. "Moses, several people have died from these snakes. This is bad! This could be our end. Some are talking about deserting this whole fiasco, and taking off for Egypt.""
Everyone was in despair. Moses thought, "if the snakes don't bite and kill these people, the fear of the snakes will! If these people panic and run away they'll all die. Fear itself could be the killer here!"
And God spoke to Moses. "Moses, these people are scared to death! Go get one of those poisonous snakes, or, make a brass replica of one if you like, and lift it high on a pole. Tell the people that everyone who will gaze on the pole will live. Even those who have been bitten will live." So, Moses did as God asked. One of the very same snakes that had terrorized them, now saved them!
I imagine that God could have sent a plague on the snakes, or perhaps have sent the snakes away from there all together. But no. The very fear that had terrorized them was lifted up high - for everyone to see, high on a pole, now at the front of the march, now a reminder of God's presence with them. They could continue their journey now, a journey that shortly would take them to the edge of the Jordan River and a place they could call home.
There's a little town on the Columbia River north of Vancouver called Kalama. It's kind of a truck stop, yet tourists also stop to watch a couple of ancient Indians carve a huge totem pole. There's a little shop where you can buy little totem poles for your desk. Some are big enough for the garden.
Here's a conversation that took place there about 30 years ago:
BILL (to Indian carver): These are amazing! How long does it take to make one?
INDIAN CARVER: (silence)
BILL: I took a lot of anthropology in school. Indians worship these totem poles, don't they?
INDIAN CARVER: (silence)
BILL: One of these would look great at the entry of my house. How much do they cost? I mean, there's a lot of work here. I guess the price is according to size, right? This one will look better when it's painted, won't it?
INDIAN CARVER: (long silence, then...) We don't paint them, but you can buy painted ones in the store. Besides, you should make your own totem pole.
BILL: I don't know how to carve!
INDIAN CARVER: Someone in your family can. You should work together on it anyway.
BILL: Well...I don't know. Are there plans you can buy?
INDIAN CARVER: You haven't lived long enough yet.
BILL: No, I mean, are there plans that you can buy?
INDIAN CARVER: We don't worship totem poles like you think. We carve figures into the pole that mean something in our family history. Some, like this big bear on this pole remind us of things we've survived. This bear reminds my family of the time my little sister almost got eaten up by a bear. My father shot the bear with a rifle just in time. When my family sees the bear on this pole we won't be afraid in the same way any more!
BILL: Oh, I could make a great totem pole!
INDIAN CARVER: You're not old enough yet. But there's a book in the store you can buy that tells you about totem poles. Maybe you can make one some day. It takes a long time to know what to put on your totem pole.
Is it possible that "what bites you can heal you as well?" In the desert, the Israelites were asked to gaze on a serpent on a pole - to look up, and to carefully study the very thing that they feared. It worked, and they were able to resume their journey as long as the "serpent-pole" led the way.
Now, what is the writer of John telling us? "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up." There's more to the meaning of the cross than we can ever uncover today. But, just as Moses lifted up the very thing that terrified the people in the wilderness the most, the early church may have seen the cross as another symbol for fear, and a way of redeeming their lives from fear. I suggest that it represents the fear of suffering and death itself.
I'm not sure about the early church, but we don't do very well with the idea of suffering and death. Psychologists sometime describe "death" as the last taboo in our time - the thing we dread most. We try to cover up death with cotton, cosmetics, and pink light bulbs.
But underneath is the fear of the unknown. Is this all there is? Is there really a heaven? What about hell? Ghosts, spooks, skeletons, images of Father Time the Grim Reaper. All of them gruesome reminders of the fear of death, or the fear that there's nothing out there, or the fear that there may indeed be a vindictive god awaiting us on the other side.
Is the writer of John suggesting that Jesus calls us to lift up the very thing that we fear the most? Death? Is the church suggesting that crosses - like the ones in graveyards when placed at the front of this little chapel or in huge cathedrals - crosses once lifted up for everyone to see - that the very thing we fear the most can actually have the power to save us? That the church's experience of the risen Jesus offers us the dramatic clue to the truth that "God so loved the world that God wants us to have life," not death, and to have life abundantly? That nothing, even death itself can separate us from God's love? The Christian doctrine of healing and wholeness coming from death and resurrection may seem like a paradox, but there is truth in that paradox, just as in the serpent on the stick, and the bear on the pole.
The writer of John implies that our spiritual task is not just to avoid the shadows and dark places in life, but to dispel the shadows and the darkness by bringing them out directly into the light. When we are able to face the shadow-side of ourselves, we have the opportunity to come out into the light and be healed. When we face the very thing that frightens us or seems to limit us, then the thing itself gets smaller, and begins to lose its power.
Our journey during Lent is not about wearing sack-cloth and ashes, or about whipping ourselves as some mystics in the middle-ages did, or about giving up chocolate or martinis for these 40 days of Lent. God calls us to life, not to grovel in self-pity, or fear or guilt. God's gifts never condemn us, they are meant to save us. We are not lost or forsaken. We are found.
In wholistic medicine an "anti-toxin" is sometimes a dilution of the "symptom-causing agent" itself. The cause may become the cure. We lift up the cross as a counter-toxin to our own fear of death, and the cross - a symbol of cruel human torture inflicted on even the best of us, may indeed save us from that fear of injustice and death. In the same way, we lift up broken bread, as a reminder of our own brokenness in life. Taking the bread can bring nourishment amidst brokenness. We take the cup of sacrifice and lift it high, and it becomes the cup of new life.
God's wants us to have life. Choose your own symbol to lift up, some totem, some fear, some light, some cross. The symbol can be tailor-made to fit just your own situation. And because, our memories are short, like 3 yr. old Danny who was beginning to forget what God looked like, wear that symbol around your neck, or set in on your desk, tape it to your refrigerator, the bathroom mirror, or make an altar at home. Look on that symbol, the fear, the doubt, the hope whatever it is - God wants you to have life and have it abundantly. Cross or totem - whatever it is! Look at it, and live!