John 3: 14-21
Good Morning. Fourth Sunday in
Lent, with the traditional name Laetare
to connect to the first
words in the old Latin Mass Introit for this day, from the 66th chapter
of Isaiah. Laetare ierusalem.
In some Anglo-Catholic parishes the paraments change from purple to Rose, or as
a Facebook Friend wrote the other day, a “hot pink” Sunday in the middle of
Lent. A day when we are allowed and even
encouraged to relax our Lenten disciplines.
(I mean, not to go crazy—but if you’ve been off chocolate for Lent, feel
free to have a Thin Mint or two at Coffee Hour this morning!) The Latin Laetare
an imperative usually translated “rejoice.” Echoing
choirs singing over the centuries, to lift the hearts of God’s Chosen People as
they stand up straight and begin to recover as the heavy weight of their exile
begins to be lifted from their shoulders: Rejoice, O Jerusalem:
and come together all you that love her: rejoice with joy, you that have been
in sorrow: that you may exult, and be filled . . . . The
Lenten journey toward Good Friday would seem to be a “way of sorrow.” But something like the assurance of the 23rd
Psalm for Christian people never goes away.
We are never truly far from Easter.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will
fear no evil, for thou art with me. At
the end of the Burial Office we say, “even at the grave we make our song.” So on this 4th Sunday-- even in exile,
even at the grave--in deepest Lent we make our song, Rejoice, O Jerusalem. Jerusalem the Golden. The earthly city, above which our Lord and
Savior is about to be lifted up and glorified, the heavenly city where he
rules, in which there is no pain or grief, but life eternal.
Just
right as background music for our readings this morning. The heavenly choir singing in the distance—Amazing
Grace, how sweet the sound. Something
like that. See what the Lord has done
for me, for us. And the purpose I think of
these three readings from John’s gospel in the three middle weeks of Lent to prepare
us for Good Friday and Easter. To
refresh in us, to help us see and know and feel again just what it means, that
Jesus has saved us on the Cross—the Atonement--to understand how that empty tomb
is a sign of his victory for us, that he has defeated our enemy, the Last Enemy.
Last
week we read in John 2--Jesus in his death and resurrection establishing with his New Body a new Temple and a perfect
sacrifice. Next week in John 12 we will
hear Jesus as he turns to the last leg of his journey to old Jerusalem share a
vision of his own death and resurrection as the foundation again in his Resurrection
Body of the Heavenly City, New
Jerusalem. And today on the Mid-Lent Sunday we are invited to lift
our eyes up from all the busyness and distractions of our lives and to look at
him, really to look at him, as he is lifted
up on the Cross, the One who is the only Medicine and perfect cure for the poison
of sin that would sicken us and lead us down into an eternal death. Jesus on the Cross: in
every way the author and the only author of our healing.
At
the beginning of Chapter 3 just before our reading today Nicodemus is very
curious about this Jesus—so much so that he isn’t content simply to read
reports or to hear what others are saying about him. He needs to find out for himself, in person.
Nicodemus comes in the dark of night and asks, “what kind of program are
you selling, Jesus? What are you really about? What are you trying to accomplish? And Jesus replies, “well, Nicodemus, it’s
actually pretty straightforward: I’m talking about a total and thoroughgoing transformation
of who you are, of your identity, your character, your person. It’s all about you becoming a new creation. About you being reborn completely in and
through God’s Holy Spirit.” Nicodemus is
taken aback. “I’m too old for that. How
can a man be born again? A new religious
reform program, maybe I could get behind that. A new political party, a revised
social agenda—no problem. But a whole
new identity? Comprehensive, head-to-toe personal
transformation? That’s just over the
top, too much for an old man like me. My
life is too settled, I have too much invested in things as they are.
But Jesus says, “don’t worry,
Nicodemus. The Spirit is going to take
care of all this for you, God’s got this all worked out, and you won’t have to
lift a finger. This is a hint of what
Christians will come to know as the doctrine of grace. God so loved the world that while we were
entirely and irrevocably lost in our sin, while we were unable to do anything
at all, he gave his only Son.
And that gets us into our reading this morning
as we might picture Nicodemus just stuck there on overload, trying to take it
all in. And then Jesus reminds him of
this story from the Book of Numbers. A
defining episode in the sacred account, when terror and death had entered the
Hebrew camp out there in the Wilderness in the form of all those poisonous
snakes. (When I preached on the text
from Numbers a few years ago at the Church of the Redeemer during the Lenten
midweek series I brought in a handful of plastic snakes that I had picked up at
a toy store, and I talked about a movie that had just been released. Maybe you remember, “Snakes on a Plane.” A feeble attempt to come into the reading
sidewise with a smile, but at the same time we know that these snakes are no
laughing matter, no joke. Each one of directly
descended from the Serpent in the Garden, the one who sank his fangs into Adam
and Eve so long ago and hasn’t let go yet-- infecting them and their
descendants with the dark poison of sin and death.) So the people out in the desert of the Sinai
are dying everywhere , and everybody turns to Moses. With agitation, frustration, fear, anger. What are you going to do about this, Moses? You led us out here. You’re in charge. Fix
it! Fix us! Make it right! Find some antidote, some potion, some herbal
cure or surgical intervention. Do Something!
But Moses is helpless. Sort of
like how Nicodemus felt, I guess. They are all helpless. We are
all of us helpless as this deadly venom courses through our veins. There is no antidote, no potion, no cure. No wellness program, surgery, fitness
regime. But then God speaks to Moses and
says-- you don’t need to solve this problem.
The Serpent is my department, and
I will take care of him. You lift
up that bronze image of a dead and defeated Serpent, Moses, in obedience to me,
lift it up high, as a sign of my presence, as a sign of my Victory, my promise first to your ancestors and now to
you, exiles from the garden, descendants of
the First Parents, the taste of that Apple still in your mouth, lift up
that brazen serpent--and those who in
turn will lift up their heads and look upon it—they, then, I will restore to
health. To be saved not by their efforts, but by
me. By Amazing Grace alone. Just let them know, look to me, and live. Talk about Old Testament foreshadowing. The Passion Gospel in the Wilderness.
The Old Testament story of course is familiar to Nicodemus. One of those parts of the Wilderness story
that shaped the identity and self-understanding of God’s Chosen People. And the verse that opens our reading this
morning and makes the connection to our Lenten journey and reflection on the
Cross, as we see this powerful anticipation.
Jesus to Nicodemus: “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.”
That’s
where the poison of sin will be rendered powerless. That’s where new birth and new life begin. When we look up and see him there. Good Friday.
And as Moses lifted up the serpent, so must the Son of man be lifted up,
that whoever believes in him—whoever believes in him--may have eternal life.” Healing.
From death to life. From old
creation to new creation.
If dying
from a poisonous snake bite in the wilderness sounds like it might be a good
metaphor for where we are in our lives this Lent of 2018. If we’ve finally drilled down deep enough
until we’ve hit something that our money and retail therapy and education and
political candidates and the latest technology and social skills and every
other resource we know about to try to fix our problems can’t seem to help us
with, the big questions, the biggest questions, the ones that don’t go away
when we close our eyes and count to ten--then this word of Jesus to Nicodemus is
for us. Not to be looking in the wrong
places of the world for the answers and solutions and cures and promises that
the world cannot give. But to look to
him. Jesus on Good Friday. How the Easter hymn goes: Death is conquered,
we are free, Christ has won the victory.
The
Cross as the Medicine of the World, the healing of the Nations. And our healing. God so loved the world. Every
snakebit one of us—the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve since the beginning
of the world. Fourth Sunday in
Lent. Look here, look to Jesus, put your
faith in him, and be made well. Rejoice
with joy, you that have been in sorrow, that you may exult and be filled.
Walk
in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself for us, an offering and a
sacrifice to God.
2 comments:
god bless our soul
Nice post.Keep sharing. Thanks for sharing.
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