Don’t let the snakes bite you

Sermon on John 3:1-17

Grace to you and peace from God. Amen.

"You will be like God! Just eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” That’s what the serpent promises Adam and Eve in paradise. To be like God - that sounds great and tempting. It reminds Adam and Eve that they are not God. They are simply people. The very first people, but that doesn’t have any meaning to them. People who name animals and plants. All of this suddenly seems puny to them compared to God's abilities.

The serpent. Sizzles lovely words. With a poisonous voice. Gnawing the soul.

The serpent touched their sensitive spot. She reminded them that there is something greater than their own existence. Something they can't control. Suddenly there is the fear of missing out on something in life. Suddenly they distrust God. Does God really want their best? Or does God just want to keep them stupid and small?

One bite and you will be like God. The proof of the pudding is in the eating. Has to be true for fruits as well. One bite and Adam and Eve’s eyes are wide open. Only to see themselves with human eyes. To be ashamed. To hide from God.

But God hears and God sees. God confronts the three of them. Adam and Eve try to blame it all on the serpent. It's not our fault. She seduced us. That's right, but that's only half the truth. Adam and Eve loved to listen to the serpent. Because they distrusted God. In the middle of paradise.

Shame. Sizzles lovely words. With a poisonous voice. Gnawing the soul.

God hears and God sees and God helps. God gives Adam and Eve clothes against their feeling of shame. He tells them how they will survive in the world. As God's children. With hard, painful work. From now on there is deadly enmity between serpents and humans. Whoever gets bitten dies.

The Serpent. Sizzles lovely words. With a poisonous voice. Gnawing the soul. 

The people of Israel have been wandering the desert for almost 40 years. The heat burns during the day and they are freezing at night. Moses leads them in the name of their God. But they are slowly beginning to doubt his abilities. Shortly before they arrive, they are suddenly forced to go back. Towards the Reed Sea. Their elderlies told them about it. God led them out of Egypt through this sea. Should they go back now? All the years of wandering and fighting in vain? 

No decent food for 40 years. No fresh bread, little water, rarely meat. Instead, divine manna raining from the skies every day. They are living by the pure, existential mercy of their God. Suddenly they distrust God. Does he really want their best? Or does he just want to keep them dependent and small?

Hopelessness. Sizzles lovely words. With a poisonous voice. Gnawing the soul.

And anyway. Does God still care for them? They have lost all their hope of ever arriving in the promised land. Instead, they will most likely all die in the desert. They accuse Moses and God of poor leadership.

And God hears and God sees.

Suddenly there are serpents everywhere. The serpents bite. Death comes quietly. Whoever is bitten dies.

Only one can help now. God, the one they just scolded. They look at each other in shame. Dejected, they confess to Moses: “We have sinned. We no longer trusted God and you. Oh God, help us. Please forget about our complaints. Make everything just like it used to be."

God hears and God sees and God helps.

He doesn't put the serpents back in their place. What is done, is done. Distrusting God is painful. Things don’t go back to how it used to be.

Instead, God tells Moses: Build a serpent picture, attach it to a stick, and raise it up. Whoever is bitten and looks up at the serpent will continue to live with the painful bite wounds. If you manage to look at the bronze serpent in time. When you look up from the floor. When you face your pain. If you continue to stare at the ground in fear of further bites, you will die. The elevated serpent is a memorial of life. It reminds us that whoever trusts God will lives.

Last month was black history month, as it is every February. It’s a great opportunity to educate oneself about our black sister’s and brother’s achievements and their fight for a better world. For a world we still must fight for today. So, Toni decided that she wanted to learn more about how schools were desegregated in the US. She read books about Ruby Bridges and we watched the wonderful Disney film about her. On Friday, all the Berkeley schools hosted their annual Martin Luther King Oratorical Fest, encouraging kids to perform speeches or poems. 

When we watched the movie about Ruby Bridges, I was the one crying. Because of the ignorance and cruelty of so many white people back then. Because of their immense fear of black little kids like Ruby sharing the pews with their own white ones. 

Fear. Sizzles lovely words. With a poisonous voice. Gnawing the soul.

But I also cried joyful tears because of Ruby Bridges’ and her parents great faith in God. There is this one scene when Ruby turns around and walks towards the angry, yelling crowd. She seems to say something and then, calmly, enters school. When asked later by her psychiatrist, what she had said, she answered: “You know, my mom taught me that Jesus prayed for his enemies. Every morning, when driving to school, I pray for these angry people. But that morning I had forgotten to do so. And I just remembered when I was about to enter the school. That’s why I had to turn around and quickly say my prayers.”

And God hears and God sees, and God helps.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus said to Nicodemus: “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.” Lifted up sounds elevated. Powerful. Enormous. Divine.

But Jesus Christ hangs on a balk like the serpent in the desert. High up on Mount Calvary so everyone can see it. As a symbol of death. On the cross.

God's pain on the cross. And then the miracle. Jesus lives. The cross didn't kill him, the cross lifted him up. To be with God. To always be present when we share bread and wine in his name.

The serpent’s fear, shame, and ignorance are still my companions. Sizzle lovely words. With a poisonous voice. Gnawing the soul. They sting their poison in my heel. Want to eat up my soul. Fight with me and with God. Serpents, you no longer bring me death, only great pain. That hurts.

And God hears and God sees, and God helps.

My God doesn't force me to go through life bowed under my guilt. My god looks at me. With a loving look. Straight in the eye. Straight in the heart. And suddenly I want to speak and confess and cry and let go. Without fearing to be convicted. And suddenly, my fear and shame and ignorance turn into hope and confession and I am eager to learn about black history and white guilt and how we can live together today as God’s children.

Because God hears and God sees, and God helps.

I stand upright when I confess my faith. I stand upright when I confess my guilt. Because I look up, to God's sign of salvation. To the cross of Christ.  To the memorial of life. Amen.