Please note: The following sermon is provided as a resource for the thought, prayer, and meditation of the members and friends of St. Mark's. It is the residue of a verbal event, and thus it does not have academic footnotes and other details that would be expected in a written document. The writer gladly acknowledges the prior thought and work of many Christians before him.

In today’s Old Testament lesson, we hear one of the stranger stories in the Bible. The Israelites are getting impatient and fed up with wandering through the wilderness after escaping from slavery in Egypt, so they blame it on God and Moses. Furthermore, they’re not even sure what to complain about. First it’s “why have you brought us out here to die, there’s no food, no water.” Then it’s, “we can’t stand this miserable food.” Which one is it? They are giving in to the power of sin, revealed as selfishness and self-centeredness. So that they really get the point that sin is the path that leads to death, the Lord sends poisonous snakes, who bite and kill many of the people.

Fortunately, this leads to repentance. The people acknowledge the reality of their sin, and pray for deliverance. The Lord sends deliverance in a strange and interesting way: using the snake—the very symbol of death in their midst—as the means to bring healing and new life. The Lord tells Moses to make a serpent of bronze, and put it on a pole. Whenever someone gets bitten by one of the snakes, they only need to look at the serpent of bronze, and live. Of course, the serpent of bronze in itself has no power to heal and give life. It is only the power and promise of God and God’s Word, contained in the serpent of bronze, that has this power. By looking on the serpent of bronze and finding healing and new life, the people are really living by faith—faith in God, and faith in God’s Word and promises.

Snakes often have a powerful hold on the human psyche. People either love ‘em or hate ‘em, but not many are neutral. Several years ago, I went backpacking with some friends on the Mid-State Trail here in Pennsylvania, near the congregation I used to serve in Snyder County. Before we left, I was warned by some of the veteran hunters in my congregation that we should watch out for rattlesnakes. I assured them I would, and then set off on the trek, not giving much thought to rattlesnakes. On day two—while hiking deep in a remote section of forest at the foot of a mountain on a hot, humid, sunny day—in a split second we simultaneously heard a distinctive rattle, while my friend Lars (who was in the lead) made an abrupt about-face, and walked back toward the rest of us as quickly as he could. Lars had come one pace from stepping on that rattlesnake, who was just hanging out in a sunny spot in the middle of the trail, working on his suntan. As startled and scared as we were at that moment, we had also never been so thankful that rattlesnakes rattled before they bit!

That snake wasn’t moving, and for what felt like several minutes, neither were we. Given our location, we couldn’t simply turn back. It was a long hike through the mountains back to where we started. We couldn’t wander too far off the path into the forest to get around him—we might get lost in the wilderness. And who knew how many other rattlesnakes were lurking in the brush around us. We could only acknowledge reality: we were in the rattlesnake’s home. We could not avoid walking through his territory, very carefully walking several yards around him in the brush, but still not too far away from the path.

We were, in a way, kind of like those Israelites wandering the in the wilderness. In danger of being bit by a poisonous snake, looking for deliverance, trying to find a way that would lead to safety—and away from that snake. By acknowledging the danger present in reality, we were able to find a way to safety on the other side.

The imagery of the bronze serpent on the pole is picked up again in John’s gospel: “No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. 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.”

The Son of Man—the Lord Jesus—was lifted up on the Holy Cross. The cross is God’s way of acknowledging reality—the reality that sin is dangerous, because it is the path the leads to death. Neither can we avoid the reality of the big, fat rattlesnake of sin and death that infects the world around us, and penetrates the human heart. We walk on the territory of that rattlesnake every time we get out of bed in the morning. We inhabit the territory of sin every day of our lives. While, through faith in Christ, we try to turn away from sin and live according to the gospel, we cannot avoid because it is an ever-present danger in our lives. Take a look around—we know the world is not what it should be, and neither is everything in our lives the way God intends it to be. Sin reveals itself as selfishness and self-centeredness. Sin is what causes us to ignore the plight of the poor or distressed. Sin is whatever alienates us from God and from our fellow human beings.

But the Holy Cross is God’s way of acknowledging this reality. Not merely acknowledging—but standing in solidarity with us by entering and experiencing the reality of what it means to be human. God did not choose to stand above the fray, sitting comfortably in heaven while remaining untouched by the troubles of this world. God so loved the world in this way—by giving his Son to be lifted up on the Holy Cross, so that God himself would personally identify with the consequences of sin run amok in the world. So that God himself would stand in solidarity with each of us in the death we must inevitably face. The cross is God’s sign that the path of forgiveness, life, and salvation cuts through the dense forest of sin and death. We cannot run away from sin and death’s territory—it is all around us. God did not run away from it, either. And because God did not run from reality, he has revealed to us the way to deliverance and safety on the other side.

Just as the Israelites could put their faith and trust in God’s Word and promises, by looking at the serpent of bronze on the pole, and being healed—we too are invited by God to put our faith and trust in his Word and promises. Look to Christ on the Holy Cross—he gave himself for you. Look on him and live.

The Holy Cross is ultimately God’s sign of life. Like the serpent of bronze on the pole, with the cross, God uses the very symbol of death to become the symbol of new life. What sets the crucified Jesus apart from everyone else Pontius Pilate and the rest of the Roman Empire crucified, is that Jesus is risen from the dead. He lives, even with his scars. He has defeated death, and has death behind him. Therefore nothing can stop him from keeping his promises to us. Because Jesus goes in solidarity with us in death, he promises that all who believe in him will go in solidarity with him to the resurrection to eternal life.

The Holy Cross is the ladder between earth and heaven—it is where God comes down into the messiness of our lives, so that through faith, he can carry us up to the joys of heaven.

One way we can experience the joys of heaven—the nearness of God, the forgiveness of sins, the promise of new life and salvation—is whenever we experience another one of those ladders where heaven and earth are joined—the Holy Eucharist. Christ invites his people to come to the altar, where (as on the cross), he gives himself to us, and we receive the risen body of our crucified Lord in bread and wine. God comes down into the messiness of our lives—in, with, and under bread that can turn moldy; in, with, and under wine, which is the residue of fermenting grapes on their way back to the soil from which they came. And out of that worldly stuff that is on its way toward death, God promises new life.

Because we put our faith and trust in this crucified and risen Jesus, death will not have the last word, but instead eternal life. Therefore we are free to offer our lives in service to God, and with his help to transcend our human selfishness and self-centeredness, not worrying about how we are going to keep from dying, but instead rejoicing that through Christ God has given us the way of living. We are free to offer hope to the poor and distressed. We are free to share the love of God and the gospel of Christ with a hurting world. We are free to work for greater peace and understanding among people who live in alienation from each other. We are free to walk in the way of the cross; the way that leads to life. The Holy Cross of Christ has set us free! Amen.