Today’s reading from John contains one of the most oft-quoted passages in all of Scripture. Personally, I’m always suspicious of passages that get held up at football games – as if somehow holding a sign that says “3:16″ is a useful sort of evangelism. (Though if anybody cares, I rather like 1 Timothy 3:16, which says “Without any doubt, the mystery of our religion is great: He was revealed in flesh, vindicated in spirit, seen by angels, proclaimed among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up in glory.” That’s actually not a bad summary of the faith, and it avoids all of the exclusivistic interpretations that have become so associated with John 3:16).
In the John reading, however, what we have clearly is a portion of a sermon John is preaching; these really aren’t Jesus’ words for all that John seems to be attributing them to him. And, contrary to the exclusivist interpretations of some of our more evangelical friends, there are some important affirmations which need to be held up:
- God so loved the world
- God did not send the Son into the world to contemn the world
- Those who do what is true come to the light
I think it’s fairly clear that John himself believed that God condemns all who aren’t Christian to a pretty unpleasant fate. I think he was wrong about this – I don’t believe God behaves this way precisely because I believe God loves the world – but it’s not responsible interpretation to assume that John is as “universalistic” as I am. Nevertheless, John’s affirmations that God sent Jesus for this world (and not to rescue us into the next); that God did not send Jesus to condemn (and therefore that we shouldn’t condemn others either) seem to me to be powerful statements of faith, and central to the argument John is trying to make. They also seem to me quite consistent with the bulk of Jesus’ own teaching – which was very much focussed on life and activity in this world. Of 26 references to “eternal life” in the four gospels, all but eight of them appear in John.
But the whole passage opens with the comparison between Jesus on the cross and Moses putting a serpent on a pole; that suggests that the whole passage really is taken from a sermon on the significance of the crucifixion, rather than a story from Jesus’ pre-crucifixion ministry. Given that we’re reading this passage in Lent, a couple of weeks before Good Friday, it’s clear that the people who have compiled our Lectionary think so too. So … what’s the connection John is trying to draw between the serpent on the pole and Jesus on the cross?
In the Numbers story, gazing at the serpent on the pole reminded the Israelites in the wilderness that God would rescue them from the thing they feared most. It reminded them that God was with them even when they complained; even when God seemed absent; even when life seemed bleak and dangerous. And God uses a symbol of the thing they fear as a sign that its power over them is limited. Those are pretty good ways of thinking about the crucifixion too.
I heard Rita Nakashima Brock speaking about her new book Saving Paradise when I was in Victoria a couple of months ago. She says that for the first 1000 years of Christianity there are no images of a dead Jesus on a cross in religious art. The familiar image of a crucifix that we see commonly in RC churches and publications is a product of the 2nd millennium. Brock says it has come to symbolize the popular understanding of the crucifixion that Jesus died to substitute for us; to bear the punishment for sin so that we don’t have to. She thinks this understanding of the cross is problematic (she’s not alone in this!), and she finds it very hopeful that the image of a dead Jesus doesn’t appear in Christian history until the 2nd millennium.
That’s an important warning to interpreters of this passage from John: whatever is going on here John is not contemplating the meaning of a crucifix!
John is, though, trying to understand why Jesus got killed. Why did it happen; why did God allow it; how can this most terrifying of events be in any way hopeful? Nakashima Brock is certainly correct that John doesn’t see Jesus’ death as a substitute for our own – that would definitely be importing a 12th century theology into a 1st century text. Yet the theology is so imbedded in the assumptions we bring to this text that it’s hard to set it aside and see what meaning this had for John.
The key for me is the emphasis in the Numbers passage on healing – the snake on the pole was a sign of God’s healing presence among the beleaguered Israelites. The memory of Jesus on the cross seems to have been similar for John – even if nobody turned it into a painting – simply calling this to mind reminded people that God was still among them to bring healing and protection from what they feared most. It gave them the courage to face the risks that might lead to a similar execution for themselves; it promised that their lives (and deaths) could also have meaning; it reminded them that even death is not ultimate and that those who die (as Jesus did) are not extinguished from Creation or removed from God’s care.
I think it’s possible to affirm all of that without ever moving into a substitutionary theory of the significance of the cross. And the fact that John puts this story so early in his gospel (chapter 3) suggests that he thinks this is a significant aspect of Jesus’ earthly ministry too – this is why Jesus walked among us as well as why he died among us, and looking at him (either on the pole or elsewhere) can bring healing and hope especially to those who face the snakes.
That’s all very high sounding theology … but what does it mean in practice? Shall we all follow Monty Python’s Life of Brian and sing “Always look on the bright side of life” while we get crucified? Surely not! But the ridiculous polly-anna-ism of the song belies a significant truth – that how we think about the worst of situations changes how we experience them. We all know people who somehow find the courage and strength to rise above adversity and make lemonade out of the bitterest lemons; we also know others who are utterly crushed by the most apparently trivial of disasters. What makes one person stronger can break someone else. And finding ways to allow the strengthening (instead of the breaking) to occur is an important life skill. It’s certainly one I worked on with my counsellor after my divorce, and I’m indebted to him for encouraging me to find new ways to do that.
That’s true whether we’re talking about individuals or about societies. Think of how Britain responded during wartime – and the ways in which still for many people who lived through that dreadful time it is tinged with memories of great joy, meaning and satisfaction, as well as sorrow and fear. Britain was able to find a way to look square in the eye at what it feared the most (tyranny), and find the strength to band together with sacrifice and commitment to bring healing to Europe.
And that’s surely the challenge that faces us today in our economic crisis too – rather than sit back and be passive victims of a horrific situation we can (if we’re willing) find ways to face our fears, risk losing everything, and re-imagine a society where one person’s greed doesn’t drag everyone else down.
Christians are well-suited to make such sacrificial risks because we are convinced that whatever we might lose, ultimately we (and everything else) is in God’s hands. And so gazing at Jesus held up on a soapbox, a podium, a dais, a pole – risking everything to bring healing to the world – can quell our fears and inspire us to be healers too. We too may be inspired to climb onto similar soapboxes, podiums and daises. We too may be inspired to take strong stands for others, full-knowing the potential consequences. Gazing at the cross – or calling it to mind – reminds us of what is most important in life, and what ultimately gives life meaning now and forever.
The bit that’s always had me confused is John’s reference to the Numbers passage … not so much the reference, as how to think that passage through. It came up this week in the Lectionary too, of course.
First, God sends poisonous serpents into the Israelite camp, and various people die. Then God says to make a bronze serpent, stick it on a pole, and look at it. Those bitten, who gaze on the bronze serpent, will live. If not …
Were one of my kids to intentionally poison his friends, then give the antidote to anyone who asked for it … well, we’d have a few words. The gnawing question is less why God “saved” the bitten Israelites, but why God sent the poisonous snakes out there in the first place. As we’re told is the case.
John doesn’t pick up that part of the Numbers passage, doesn’t address why we’re in need of saving. And I agree that the Atonement theology isn’t necessarily implicit in this John passage …
… but the parallel between God sending poisonous snakes into the Israelite camp and God being the Cosmic sociopath demanding the Atonement theory’s blood sacrifice .. ain’t pretty.
I guess the question is whether or not God actually sent the snakes.
It seems to me that snakes are simply one of the risks of travelling through the desert … and while it’s a natural human reaction (especially in a pre-modern worldview) to blame God for natural disasters, I’m not convinced that it’s legit to do that.
In my sermon on the topic I simply said that life is risky.
After all … the story never says the snakes go away. The issue is that God gives them the means to deal with it. I suppose you could say that a “good” God would never put us in risky situations … but that’s not the world we live in.