tree of love

Mary Holmes, professor of art history at my undergraduate college, observed that in our time the challenge was obedience. That is difficult for our generations. We don't want to be told what to do.

And who can blame us, those who remember the statue by Jack Zajac of the "Sacrificial Goat" in the courtyard of the college, commemorating a student who loyally answered the call of his country and went to serve - and die - in the American/Vietnam War. We especially, however, prefer not to obey God.

No serpents have bit us as yet - or have they?

Perhaps regardless of our herpetological challenges and enthusiasms we should consider looking again to the sign of the one lifted up - not bronze but flesh. The life and death and resurrection of Jesus. 

He did more than die for us - he led the way for us from a living death ("under condemnation" as Paul would have it) through the passion of dying and on to the eternal resurrection life - that is obedience.

That's the kicker. Eternal life starts now - if we allow ourselves to be brought into harmony with our creator, through our redeemer, in the power of the divine mother of all the spirit. 

How can we possibly manage this? Not on our own merit - or by our own power. That's where the grace comes in.

The grace that we experience in the horrifying gift of the persistent - adamant, unwavering - witness and sacrificial offering of Jesus.

Sunday 14 March 2021: Fourth Sunday in Lent
Numbers 21:4-9
Ephesians 2:1-10
John 3:14-21
Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22
http://edgeofenclosure.org/lent4b.html

Gracious Father, whose blessed Son Jesus Christ came down from heaven to be the true bread which gives life to the world: Evermore give us this bread, that he may live in us, and we in him; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Dream of the Rood

What I wish to say of the best of dreams,

what came to me in the middle of the night

after the speech-bearers lie biding their rest! (1-3)

It seemed to me that I saw the greatest tree

brought into the sky, bewound in light,

the brightest of beams. That beacon was entirely

garnished with gold. Gemstones

prominent and proud at the corners of the earth—

five more as well blazoned across the span of its shoulders.

Every angel of the Lord warded it there,

a brilliant sight of a universe to come.

Surely it was no longer the gallows of vile crime

in that place—yet there they kept close watch,

holy spirits for all humanity across the earth,

and every part of this widely famous creation. (4-12)

Surpassing was this victory-tree, and me splattered with sins—

struck through with fault. I saw this tree of glory,

well-worthied in its dressing, shining in delights,

geared with gold. Gemstones had

nobly endowed the Sovereign’s tree.

Nevertheless I could perceive through all that gold

a wretched and ancient struggle, where it first started

to sweat blood on its right side. I was entirely perturbed with sorrows—

I was fearful for that lovely sight.

Then I saw that streaking beacon warp its hue, its hangings —

at times it was steamy with bloody wet, stained with coursing gore,

at other times it was glistening with treasure. (13-23)

Yet I, lying there for a long while,

beheld sorrow-chary the tree of the Savior

until I heard that it was speaking.

Then the best of wood said in words: (24-27)

“It happened long ago—I remember it still—

I was hewn down at the holt’s end

stirred from my stock. Strong foes seized me there,

worked in me an awful spectacle, ordered me to heave up their criminals.

Those warriors bore me on their shoulders

until they set me down upon a mountain.

Enemies enough fastened me there.

I saw then the Lord of Mankind

hasten with much courage, willing to mount up upon me. (28-34)

“There I dared not go beyond the Lord’s word

to bow or burst apart—then I saw the corners of the earth

tremor—I could have felled all those foemen,

nevertheless I stood fast. (35-38)

“The young warrior stripped himself then—that was God Almighty—

strong and firm of purpose—he climbed up onto the high gallows,

magnificent in the sight of many. Then he wished to redeem mankind.

I quaked when the warrior embraced me—

yet I dared not bow to the ground, collapse

to earthly regions, but I had to stand there firm.

The rood was reared. I heaved the mighty king,

the Lord of Heaven—I dared not topple or reel. (39-45)

“They skewered me with dark nails, wounds easily seen upon me,

treacherous strokes yawning open. I dared injure none of them.

They shamed us both together. I was besplattered with blood,

sluicing out from the man’s side, after launching forth his soul. (46-49)

“Many vicious deeds have I endured on that hill—

I saw the God of Hosts racked in agony.

Darkness had covered over with clouds

the corpse of the Sovereign, shadows oppressed

the brightest splendor, black under breakers.

All of creation wept, mourning the king’s fall—

Christ was upon the cross. (50-56)

“However people came hurrying from afar

there to that noble man. I witnessed it all.

I was sorely pained with sorrows—yet I sank down

to the hands of those men, humble-minded with much courage.

They took up there Almighty God, lifting up him up

from that ponderous torment. Those war-men left me

to stand, dripping with blood—I was entirely wounded with arrows.

They laid down the limb-weary there, standing at the head of his corpse,

beholding there the Lord of Heaven, and he rested there awhile,

exhausted after those mighty tortures. (57-65a)

“Then they wrought him an earthen hall,

the warriors within sight of his killer. They carved it from the brightest stone,

setting therein the Wielder of Victories. Then they began to sing a mournful song,

miserable in the eventide, after they wished to venture forth,

weary, from the famous Prince. He rested there with a meager host. (65b-69)

“However, weeping there, we lingered a good while in that place,

after the voices of war-men had departed.

The corpse cooled, the fair hall of the spirit.

Then someone felled us both, entirely to the earth.

That was a terrifying event! Someone buried us in a deep pit.

Nevertheless, allies, thanes of the Lord, found me there

and wrapped me up in gold and in silver. (70-77)

“Now you could hear, my dear man,

that I have outlasted the deeds of the baleful,

of painful sorrows. Now the time has come

that men across the earth, broad and wide,

and all this famous creation worthy me,

praying to this beacon. On me the Child of God

suffered awhile. Therefore I triumphant

now tower under the heavens, able to heal

any one of them, those who stand in terror of me.

Long ago I was made into the hardest of torments,

most hateful to men, until I made roomy

the righteous way of life for them,

for those bearing speech. Listen—

the Lord of Glory honored me then

over all forested trees, the Warden of Heaven’s Realm!

Likewise Almighty God exalted his own mother,

Mary herself, before all humanity,

over all the kindred of women. (78-94)

“Now I bid you, my dear man,

to speak of this vision to all men

unwrap it wordfully, that it is the Tree of Glory,

that the Almighty God suffered upon

for the sake of the manifold sins of mankind,

and the ancient deeds of Adam.

Death he tasted there, yet the Lord arose

amid his mighty power, as a help to men.

Then he mounted up into heaven. Hither he will come again,

into this middle-earth, seeking mankind

on the Day of Doom, the Lord himself,

Almighty God, and his angels with him,

wishing to judge them then—he that holds the right to judge

every one of them—upon their deserts

as they have earned previously here in this life. (95-109)

“Nor can any remain unafraid there

before that word that the Wielder will speak.

He will ask before the multitude where that man may be,

who wished to taste in the Lord’s name

the bitterness of death, as he did before on the Cross.

Yet they will fear him then, and few will think

what they should begin to say unto Christ.

There will be no need to be afraid there at that moment

for those who already bear in their breast the best of signs,

yet every soul ought to seek through the Rood

the holy realm from the ways of earth—

those who intend to dwell with their Sovereign.” (110-21)

I prayed to that tree with a blissful heart,

great courage, where I was alone,

with a meager host. My heart’s close was

eager for the forth-way, suffering many

moments of longing. Now my hope for life

is that I am allowed to seek that victorious tree,

more often lonely than all other men,

to worthy it well. The desire to do so

is strong in my heart, and my guardian

is righteous in the Rood. I am not wealthy

with many friends on this earth,

yet they departed from here from the joys of the world,

seeking the King of Glory—now they live

in heaven with the High-Father, dwelling in magnificence,

and I hope for myself upon each and every day

for that moment when the Rood of the Lord,

that I espied here upon the earth,

shall ferry me from this loaned life

and bring me then where there is great bliss,

joys in heaven, where there are the people of the Lord,

seated at the feast, where there is everlasting happiness

and seat me where I will be allowed afterwards

to dwell in glory, brooking joys well amid the sainted.

May the Lord be my friend, who suffered before

here on earth, on the gallows-tree for the sins of man. (122-46)

He redeemed us and gave us life,

a heavenly home. Hope was renewed

with buds and with bliss for those suffered the burning.

The Son was victory-fast upon his journey,

powerful and able, when he came with his multitudes,

the army of souls, into the realm of God,

the Almighty Ruler, as a bliss for the angels

and all of the holy, those who dwelt in glory

before in heaven, when their Sovereign came back,

Almighty God, to where his homeland was. (147-56)

https://oldenglishpoetry.camden.rutgers.edu/dream-of-the-rood/

This very night…

In the name of God, source of all being, eternal Word, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

When my father’s aunt Virginia died he was at her bedside. At another time her lawyer assured me he’d had all the property assessed so each of the four heirs received an equal value, in property or money. My father and his three siblings were the four equal sharers in their aunt’s fortune. Much of the legacy included artwork - Japanese woodblock prints - and other valuable movables. My Dad told the others he’d take what was left after they’d made their selections: some of the ordinary furniture and kitchenware, and ‘whatever was left in the storage closet down in the carport.’ *

Uncle Dave and Aunt Virginia had had some wonderful things as a result of their prewar life together in Pearl Harbor, China, and Singapore. They had friends among the Nationalist Chinese leaders and with them had experienced the terrible inflation of the mid-1930s in Shanghai, when a wheelbarrow full of money would buy a head of lettuce. 

They had saved some of that hyperinflation currency as souvenirs, some of it still wrapped in printers’ bundles, thinking it would make a decorative covering for a room divider screen. Then they realized their old friends, now in exile in Taiwan, might feel offended by the reminder of what they’d lost. So Dave and Virginia stored away the money - a story we knew well.

*And so we went down into the carport, my father and I, and opened the door of the storage shed - and a fecund effulgence of peat, fertilizer, and lawn mower oil came forth. We looked in the back and pulled out a large cardboard box - a bushel carton - and looked inside it. And looked at each other, and laughed. And laughed again. He who laughs last laughs twice.

The gospel story begins with an inheritance - with a family, at least two brothers. Approaching Jesus as an arbitrator one brother says Master tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me - but Jesus will have none of it. 

That’s a story: a one-sentence parable. Don’t get hung up about your stuff. 

Here’s a story within the story: a man had a rich harvest and said to himself, “I’ll pull down the barns…”

Thinking he had piled up for himself a pretty good load - the 1st century equivalent of canned goods and shotguns, or a 401k, or self-righteousness, the 1st century moral equivalent. (It’s not about your personal sense of security. If you think it is, your Horizon of Security is too small.)

But “You fool!" This very night your soul itself will be taken from you. 

Marie Kondo, the best-selling novelist of self-organization, bids you ask this key question of every one of the material possessions in your closet: Does this object give me joy? Does it give you joy? Does an object give you joy? 

Are you on the right track with these questions? The wealthy farmer in our gospel story asked similar questions and answered them with a resounding yes! Yes, he told himself, you can relax, eat, drink, be merry: you will have abundance stored up for many years ahead. Sort of like the United States.

And then the reminder comes. God, no less, at the end of the story, says, “You fool! This very night your life is required from you.” It echoes the passages from Ecclesiastes and the Psalms that we might review here.

I hated all my toil in which I had toiled under the sun, seeing that I must leave it to those who come after me -- and who knows whether they will be wise or foolish? Yet they will be master of all for which I toiled and used my wisdom under the sun. This also is vanity. So I turned and gave my heart up to despair concerning all the toil of my labors under the sun, because sometimes one who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave all to be enjoyed by another who did not toil for it. This also is vanity and a great evil. What do mortals get from all the toil and strain with which they toil under the sun? For all their days are full of pain, and their work is a vexation; even at night their minds do not rest. This also is vanity. 

(Ecclesiastes 2:18-23)

4 Why should I be afraid in evil days, *

when the wickedness of those at my heels surrounds me,

5 The wickedness of those who put their trust in their goods, *

and boast of their great riches?

6 We can never ransom ourselves, *

or deliver to God the price of our life;

7 For the ransom of our life is so great, *

that we should never have enough to pay it,

8 In order to live for ever and ever, *

and never see the grave.

9 For we see that the wise die also;

like the dull and stupid they perish *

and leave their wealth to those who come after them.

10 Their graves shall be their homes for ever,

their dwelling places from generation to generation, *

though they call the lands after their own names.

11 Even though honored, they cannot live for ever; *

they are like the beasts that perish.

(Psalm 49:4-11)

Of course who is going to get your stuff then? —is a question that tells us we are on the wrong track altogether.

Our possessions may not store in barns - they may be merit or status, righteousness through works or validation through achievement and recognition.

Jesus tells the parable of the self-satisfied farmer, the Parable of the Rich Fool, that recapitulates and extends the teaching of the Preacher and the Psalmist. For it is not only that we strive and then we die and the wealth we may have accumulated pass on to another, it is that we have entirely missed the point of life. All this time we have been striving, anxiously, to achieve self-security, satisfaction with meeting our anticipated needs and desires, we have lost out on the real riches. The riches that come from life with God.

Maybe we need to look a little larger, beyond ourselves, to whence real security - and real abundance - lies: in joining in the life and love of God.

Donald Nicholl used to quote the saying that ‘in the end the only tragedy is the tragedy of not becoming a saint’. (Léon Bloy)

You have heard it said that Jesus died for our sins - but Jesus lived that we might be saints: people who live in faith, who trust in God for their daily bread, and all else.

Jesus was willing to accept the consequences of witnessing to the truth with absolute integrity. He would not back down in the face of fear or terror. And that is why we remember him in times when we need someone we can completely rely on, that we can absolutely trust, not because he wasn’t afraid but because he was and he stayed, and he’ll stay with you.

“The peace of God, it is no peace, but strife closed in the sod. Yet let us pray for but one thing—the marvelous peace of God.” (Hymn 661)

We are called to the service of love. “Love in reality, as opposed to love in dreams, is a harsh and dreadful thing.” (Dostoevsky) 

And yet it is in that service that we find perfect freedom, in that in-security that we find hope.

Thérèse of Lisieux, who didn’t have much, knew that she had obedience… and something more: she had love. 

A young nun in a tubercular convent in northern France, she realized what matters is not what we have - good or bad - but what we do with it; that the duty of the present moment is the freedom of the present moment, because it is in the present moment that we encounter LOVE - the divine love of God. 

This comes whether we have much at all in the way of possessions, for we have all that matters. 

Thérèse of Lisieux lived to the age of 24, the last two years with TB, and hoping to receive what she finally lost - a feeling of God’s presence. Instead she kept faith while in the desert of unknowing, and in the end reached joy.

How can we give joy? What gives us joy? Collectively it is easy to plan our bigger barns, to put poles around their edges and put up the side walls, satisfying ourselves that we are snug within our self-made enclosures. But perhaps like the rich fool we have too limited, too narrow, a horizon of security. 

We have barns, big barns, and we are building bigger: but in the doing we may pull down on our heads the security that really matters. We may say to ourselves, it is our toil and knowledge and skill and pain that has gotten us this inheritance, and we do not want to split it with anybody. Brother or no.

And yet we treat our world as if it were ours not only as stewards but as owners. As plaything or resource bin, not as our home and our care. 

As if we made it out of nothing. As if it were not the legacy we have received - that we are to pass on. The judgment - no, the consequences - of seeking our own security at the expense of others, is beyond our comprehension. 

What we do know is that we are called to something more than possession, more than self-security or ease: we are called into the fellowship of the living God, and there we will find real treasure, real peace, real joy.

May today there be peace within you.

May you trust in God

that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

May you use those gifts you have received,

and pass on the love that has been given you.

May you be content knowing that you are a child of God.

Let this assurance settle into your bones,

and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.

Amen.

— St. Thérèse of Lisieux

(http://thereseofdivinepeace.org/ accessed August 2, 2019.)

Thanks to Gildas Hamel and Suzanne Guthrie for insights included in this sermon.

Let your continual mercy, O Lord, cleanse and defend your Church; and, because it cannot continue in safety without your help, protect and govern it always by your goodness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

2019 August 4
Eighth Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 13. Year C.
Luke 12:13-21.

Grace Saint Paul's Episcopal Church, Tucson, Arizona.

The Prodigal Son, Gerrit Van Honthorst, 1622 (the young man's new "friends" prey on his wealth.) Eating, drinking, and making merry... [http://www.edgeofenclosure.org/proper13c.html]

King Midas. [http://www.edgeofenclosure.org/proper13c.html]

Jesus is lifted up for our salvation

In the name of God, source of all being, incarnate Word, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Our family car was a 1956 Chevrolet Bel Air station wagon, turquoise and cream. We boys rode in the back seat. My parents rode in the front. Looking over the driver’s shoulder I could see out through the windshield to the front hood of the car. There in the middle of it was a hood ornament, or as I called it, “the aimer”. I figured when you drove you steered the car using the aimer as kind of a front sight, like the one on the front of a rifle. With it you could steer your way down the road to where you were going.

It acted as a sign, pointing the way. I never mistook it for the road or for our destination. In fact, I knew where we were going: our cousins’ house, for a family visit and a vacation. “Are we there yet?”

The people of Israel, it seems, sometimes mistook the sign for the thing it was pointing to – or looked another way entirely. They had lost their way in the wilderness, at least morally. Moses and the Lord had led them out of the bondage of slavery in Egypt. They were ‘under the cloud’ – the pillar of cloud that guided them by day – and they were being led by Moses, and the Lord, through the desert. They complained a lot, though.

They murmured. In fact today’s lesson records Murmur Number Five. And this time they complained, not only about Moses, but also about the Lord – and that was not going to work.

“We have NO FOOD and NO WATER and we detest THIS MISERABLE FOOD!”

They had water from the rock – and manna, food from Heaven. But – no thanks. 

And so – something happened. They were afflicted – and they were convicted.

With snakes they were afflicted; of sin they were convicted.

Since everything comes from God, the good and the bad, they must have reasoned, God sent even the snakes – even the punishment that came to them. And that is how they took it, as an affliction that recalled them to their senses. They repented. “We have sinned against you and against God,” they said to Moses. Now save us already!

And then a strange thing happened. God told Moses to make an image of the very thing that had been killing them – the engine of their affliction – and put it up where everybody could see it, and everyone who was bitten who turned and looked at it would be saved.

Look to the snake on the pole and you will be saved. A strange sign, indeed: but what does it point to?

It points to – we discover – something stranger yet: the innocent person who took upon himself the sins of us all, who was lifted up on a cross – the most excruciating of devices for punitive humiliation and tortuous death, and thereby – by that very means – became the source of our salvation.

If we look to Christ – if we trust him, believe in him, put our faith in him – we find our way to life.

The wanderers in the desert had received their freedom. They had water from the rock. They had bread from heaven. And they had healing of this strange affliction.

We, who were wandering in the wilderness of sin, have been given our freedom – we have been released from our own captivity to the follies and destructive behaviors that kept us from God. God has sustained us; everything we have, all we need to live, is a gift of God. And we have received salvation – healing from more than sickness of the body, we have received healing and wholeness of our souls, our inward life.

God has given us eternal life. It is life in its fullness. It is life in right relationship to God, to nature, to each other, and to our selves. It is life that comes to completion in Christ; that finds its fulfillment in the presence of the Lord.

Jesus, whom everyone knew was innocent, nevertheless gave himself up – gave his life over – as a testimony and a witness to the truth – the truth of God’s love for humankind.

And so he was lifted up – raised up, onto the cross at Calvary, and raised up, into the new life in the resurrection – and in this dying and in this rising was the saving of the world.

If we look to Christ – if we trust him, believe in him, put our faith in him – we find our way to life.

This good news came to the people of Ireland in a strange way – a godly way.

A young patrician, a teenager from a prosperous family of Roman Britons, was spending his time by the seaside, at a waterfront property of his family, convenient to the coast – and convenient for pirates. Irish rovers came across the sea and stole him away, kidnapped him, and made him a slave. They sold him on, to a farmer in Ireland.

Young Patrick, as he came to be called, found himself tending cattle on the backside of beyond, way over on the west coast of this distant and foreign island.

And that is how he spent his teenage years. They were teenage years – formative years – but not his only formation for adulthood, for he found his way to freedom, and to a spiritual re-formation.

Patrick first found his way to physical freedom. He walked out, somehow, away from his master, and escaped across Ireland and the sea. He journeyed far, into France, and there he found a spiritual freedom. He encountered a spiritual master, Martin of Tours, founder of a monastery and a movement. Martin took him in and taught him the Christian way – the way of the Cross.

Patrick learned from Martin – and gained a blessing that he was meant to share. For Patrick had a dream – not a daydream, but a vision: he was being called back, across the sea, to bring the good news of the freedom of the spirit, the gospel of God, to the very people who had enslaved his body. And he answered the call.

Rough-hewn and mystical, Patrick was the perfect apostle to bring the good news to the Celtic peoples. He returned to Ireland. And he did something there that was much more significant than any legendary miracle.

Legends like driving all the snakes from Ireland. (There were not snakes in Ireland to begin with.) The point is not what he drove out; the point is what he brought in.

He brought into Ireland and to its people the good news that in Christ was to be found their completion, their wholeness, and their salvation. He brought the gospel to a people that had been enslaved by greed, ignorance and sin, a people lost in darkness. He brought to them the light of Christ.

And they in turn became a light to the world. From the Celtic lands, from the people he taught the gospel, came in time a series of monastic missionaries, adventurers on the seas of the world, who sought holiness and brought salvation to the people they encountered, all across the continent of Europe.

The learned monks of Ireland, in the centuries following Patrick’s mission, studied and shared the great gifts of civilization – and beyond civilization they brought the saving news of Jesus Christ.

Patrick never drove the snakes out of Ireland. What he drove out, under the Master’s guidance, was the fear and the ignorance that kept the Irish people in bondage to sin.

What the Lord did in Ireland through Patrick and all the Irish saints to follow was to establish an outpost of courage, hope, generosity, and freedom; a beacon that shone across Europe with the light of Christ.

What God brings to us to day is the good news of salvation: we look to the Cross – for salvation, for Jesus was lifted up so that we, and all people, may receive the gift of life.

And what calls us today is the mission of the kingdom. We carry with us into our world, our place and time, to those around us, those we know already and those we must seek out, the message of hope and the means of salvation, the abundant grace that is found in the Cross of Christ.

O God, who made the world and made it good, and who redeemed the world you made when we had fallen into sin and wandered far from your purpose for our lives, you who redeemed Patrick from bondage, sending him on a mission as your apostle of freedom, compassion, and grace, so bless your servants here with courage and hospitality, generosity and faith, that your spirit may abide in the hearts of this congregation and that this church may be to your world a beacon of hope and a light of your salvation. Amen.

BLent4, Fourth Sunday in Lent, Numbers 21:4-9, Ephesians 2:1-10,
John 3:14-21, Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22.

JRL+

Look to Jesus for salvation

In the name of God, source of all being, incarnate Word, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Our family car was a 1956 Chevrolet Bel Air station wagon, turquoise and cream. We boys rode in the back seat. My parents rode in the front. Looking over the driver’s shoulder I could see out through the windshield to the front hood of the car. There in the middle of it was a hood ornament, or as I called it, “the aimer”. 

I figured when you drove you steered the car using the aimer as kind of a front sight, like the one on the front of a rifle. With it you could steer your way down the road to where you were going.

It acted as a sign, pointing the way. I never mistook it for the road or for our destination. In fact, I knew where we were going: our cousins’ house, for a family visit and a vacation. “Are we there yet?”

The people of Israel, it seems, sometimes mistook the sign for the thing it was pointing to – or looked another way entirely. They had lost their way in the wilderness, at least morally. Moses and the Lord had led them out of the bondage of slavery in Egypt. They were ‘under the cloud’ – the pillar of cloud that guided them by day – and they were being led by Moses, and the Lord, through the desert. They complained a lot, though.

They murmured. In fact today’s lesson records Murmur Number Five. And this time they complained, not only about Moses, but also about the Lord – and that was not going to work.

“We have NO FOOD and NO WATER and we detest THIS MISERABLE FOOD!”

They had water from the rock – and manna, food from Heaven. But – no thanks. 

And so – something happened. They were afflicted – and they were convicted.

With snakes they were afflicted; of sin they were convicted.

Since everything comes from God, the good and the bad, they must have reasoned, God sent even the snakes – even the punishment that came to them. And that is how they took it, as an affliction that recalled them to their senses. They repented. “We have sinned against you and against God,” they said to Moses. Now save us already!

And then a strange thing happened. God told Moses to make an image of the very thing that had been killing them – the engine of their affliction – and put it up where everybody could see it, and everyone who was bitten who turned and looked at it would be saved.

Look to the snake on the pole and you will be saved. A strange sign, indeed: but what does it point to?

It points to – we discover – something stranger yet: the innocent person who took upon himself the sins of us all, who was lifted up on a cross – the most excruciating of devices for punitive humiliation and tortuous death, and thereby – by that very means – became the source of our salvation.

If we look to Christ – if we trust him, believe in him, put our faith in him – we find our way to life.

The wanderers in the desert had received their freedom. They had water from the rock. They had bread from heaven. And they had healing of this strange affliction.

We, who were wandering in the wilderness of sin, have been given our freedom – we have been released from our own captivity to the follies and destructive behaviors that kept us from God. God has sustained us; everything we have, all we need to live, is a gift of God. And we have received salvation – healing from more than sickness of the body, we have received healing and wholeness of our souls, our inward life.

God has given us eternal life. It is life in its fullness. It is life in right relationship to God, to nature, to each other, and to our selves. It is life that comes to completion in Christ; that finds its fulfillment in the presence of the Lord.

Jesus, whom everyone knew was innocent, nevertheless gave himself up – gave his life over – as a testimony and a witness to the truth – the truth of God’s love for humankind.

And so he was lifted up – raised up, onto the cross at Calvary, and raised up, into the new life in the resurrection – and in this dying and in this rising was the saving of the world.

If we look to Christ – if we trust him, believe in him, put our faith in him – we find our way to life.

What God brings to us to day is the good news of salvation: we look to the Cross – for salvation, for Jesus was lifted up so that we, and all people, may receive the gift of life.

And what calls us today is the mission of the kingdom, the message of hope. 

May we carry with us into our world, our place and time, 
to those far away and to those around us, 
those we know already and those we must seek out, 
the message of hope and the means of salvation, 
the abundant grace that is found in the Cross of Christ.

   
JRL+