What are you most afraid of? Depending on the context and your frame of mind, the answer may vary. One poll from about ten years ago now indicates that 36 percent of all adults in the United States listed the same number one fear – snakes[i]. The clinical term for this is Ophidiophobia, which affects around 49 percent of women and 22 percent of men. It’s a fear that has been highlighted by movies like Snakes on a Plane, whose very premise makes my skin crawl a bit. And, of course, the character Indiana Jones is notorious for his fear and dislike of snakes, which seem to slip into many a scene in the classic trilogy. And while some of you might not be particularly wary of these cold-blooded creatures, my guess is few of us want to meet them in unexpected ways.
Because of this response, our scripture text from Numbers reads almost like another chapter in a story of suspense. The setting is the dry, hot desert, years into the Israelite’s journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. This story is the end of a series of “murmuring stories” where God’s people wonder if God is really leading them at all. They are tired and cranky, and become impatient about their destination. Their journey has seemed to cause them nothing but trouble, with one thing after another that makes things difficult. The deeper they get into the wilderness, it seems, the more romanticized memory they have of their lives as slaves in Egypt. Since chapter 11 they have longed for the “good ole days” when they at least had food to eat, like cucumbers, fish, melons, leeks, onions and garlic (see Numbers 11:4-6). Not mentioned, of course, was the oppressive rule and the demands for increased hard physical labor of building bricks and other abuse they endured as slaves (see Ex. 5:10-14). Instead, the focus becomes on the sparse supplies and jeopardy they seem to be in traveling across the desert. As one commentary notes:
Characteristically, in this unhappy situation, reinforced by the romanticized memory of how good it used to be, they quarreled, accused God of infidelity, and accused Moses of poor, failed leadership. (That is what people do when the economy fails)[ii].
The scene is set. Times are hard. The people are on edge. They are at odds with one another and with their leaders. You can imagine the soundtrack’s creeping music in the background, alerting us it’s about to get even worse. Cue the snakes.
If I were watching this film, I would want to fast forward past this part to get through the scary stuff. Or at the very least, I would cover my eyes and ask the brave person next to me to let me know when the bad parts were over. I’m guessing I’m not alone. Whether it’s snakes or some other fear, our tendency is to grit our teeth, hold on to the armrests, and make it through as quickly as possible, hopefully emerging on the other side without too many scratches on us. Perhaps this is how the Hebrews started their journey, in those harrowing moments as they passed through the waters of the Red Sea. But eventually that adrenaline wears out, and as they discovered, God was not always a safe and comfortable companion in the wilderness. In the midst of their journey, things literally jumped up and bit them.
Unfortunately, this is a fairly true reflection of real life. Hardship and difficulty sometimes spring up when we least expect it. Consider Kate Bowler, professor at Duke Divinity School, who recently published a book Everything Happens for a Reason, and Other Lies I’ve Loved. The book is a memoir about her journey as a 35 year old who appeared to have everything going for her – a thriving career, married to her high school sweetheart with a newborn son – all jarred by an unexpected diagnosis of stage IV colon cancer. In the midst of wrestling with her own mortality, she goes to Texas to hear an inspirational speaker during Lent, who confessed she didn’t like to deal with the heavy stuff, and was afraid of death and would rather not you talk about it either. Bowler, upset by this, said to a friend, “Everyone is trying to Easter the crap out of my Lent.” PCUSA Co-Moderator Jan Edmiston reflected on this quote from Bowler in a recent blog post. She reminds us that:
Lent reminds us that there is a world of suffering out there. . . . This is the season when we remember that death is part of life and we are called to notice it. We are called to face it. We are called to let the reality of death re-prioritize our lives[iii].
That is why we begin this season with ashes on our foreheads, hearing the line from Genesis “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Our text from Numbers returns us to this aspect of our Lenten journey. It reminds us that we live in a world that is dangerous and often unpredictable. It gives us permission to not just rush into resurrection, but name the “snakes” in our own wildernesses. The things that strike fear in us. The things that are like poison to our bodies and our relationships. The Hebrew word to describe the snakes is often translated as “poisonous,” but literally means “fiery” or “burning.” The story asks us to consider the things that seem to bite us and leave a sting.
Jan Edmiston offers us some suggestions, reminding us that with these snakes comes a healthy “shaking-my-fist-like-the-Psalmist” anger tied to lament. She writes:
I am angry that my friends’ child is tortured by cancer. I am angry that 18-year-olds in Florida can buy assault weapons and shoot other teenagers with them. I am angry that the world has forgotten Syria. I am angry that there is still no power in every corner of Puerto Rico[iv].
What might we add to this list? Perhaps the opioid epidemic across our country that strikes close to home here in Georgia. The CDC released a report this past Tuesday that indicated in just one year, overdoses from opioids have jumped by about 30 percent[v]. Or we might think about the accidental shooting during dismissal at Huffman High School in Birmingham, Alabama on Wednesday afternoon that killed a 17-year-old young woman. Or perhaps Thursday’s commemoration of the “International Women’s Day” would prompt us to consider the places of inequality that still exist in our world and the disproportionate violence committed against women. Whether globally, nationally, locally, or personally, we are surrounded by snakes. Naming them, though, is just the start. Jan Edmiston challenges us to do more than just lament; in Lent especially, she says, we are called to ask:
How are we offering ourselves to stand with those who suffer?[vi]
Our time in the wilderness is meant to remind us that our lives are more than just about us. And if we look around and discover that those with us on the journey have been bitten, we might want to try to do something about it; something more than just lament.
Looking back to the Israelites, we discover that, despite their complaining and perhaps doubts, they turn to God. They bring the brokenness of their experience, including the snakes, and beg for them to be removed. And God responds with an act of solidarity.
“It is notable that God does not remove the snakes, but provides a means for healing in the midst of danger. God brings healing precisely where the sting is the worst.”[vii].
God instructs Moses to take the poisonous serpent, the ones who have caused the people such pain, and set it on a pole that people might be healed. Elizabeth Webb suggests that this passage tells us a lot about the character of God:
Even in our worst failures and disappointments, God provides. God offers healing for our wounds, relationship for our loneliness, and faithfulness for our faithlessness. God doesn’t remove the sources of our suffering, but God makes the journey with us, providing what we most deeply need, if we but look in the right direction.[viii]
The staff of Moses provides the Israelites with a direction to look. Although we learn in later history it becomes an idol for them that must be destroyed during the temple reform of King Hezekiah (see 2 Kings 18:4), it is meant to be more of a sign and seal of God’s transforming power over anything, even death. Like our sacrament of communion, it could have been a reminder to the people to “lift up their hearts to the Lord,” to the one who was their salvation. In Jordan there is a metal sculpture, the one pictured on your bulletin cover, meant to represent this pole intertwined with a serpent, placed at Mt. Nebo, the final destination for Moses, who was able to look over the Promised Land, but not enter it. The Florentine artist, Giovanni Fantoni, intentionally crafted the design to also connect to the reference to this story in John’s gospel, with the upper arms of the staff extending horizontally, almost like the cross.
Like the staff, the cross proclaims God’s solidarity with a suffering world. To hear those familiar words from John’s gospel in tandem with this referenced text in Numbers enriches its meaning. It reminds us that God loved this world, this messed up, full of snakes, suffering world with all of its sin and pain. That it was to this wilderness of a world that God sent Jesus Christ, that we might lift our eyes and see love. And indeed, our Lord even spent time in the literal wilderness. 40 days in fact. Which means that even if we are in the midst of a pit of snakes, or worse, find ourselves bitten, we know that we do not have to travel this desert road alone. For we travel with one who has been lifted up and who indeed overcomes all evil with good. That, in the midst of the wilderness, is good news. Especially when snakes are involved. Amen.
~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
March 11, 2018
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[i]Barbara Brown Taylor, “Homiletical Perspective: Numbers 21:4-9,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008). In reference to a recent Harris poll on “What We Are Afraid Of”.
[ii] Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, and James D. Newsome, “Fourth Sunday in Lent,” Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary based on the NRSV – Year B. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1993).
[iii] Jan Edmiston, “Don’t Easter My Lent,” blog post dated February 22, 2018, https://achurchforstarvingartists.wordpress.com/2018/02/22/dont-easter-my-lent/, accessed 3/8/2018.
[iv] Jan Ediston.
[v] Rob Stein, “Jump In Overdoses Shows Opioid Epidemic Has Worsened”, National Public Radio, All Things Considered, march 6, 2018, https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2018/03/06/590923149/jump-in-overdoses-shows-opioid-epidemic-has-worsened, accessed 3/8/2018.
[vi] Jan Edmiston.
[vii] Elizabeth Webb, “Commentary on Numbers 21:4-9,” Working Preacher, March 18, 2012, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1225, accessed 3/8/2018.
[viii] Elizabeth Webb.
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