So Moses prayed for the people, and the LORD said to Moses,
"Make a saraph and mount it on a pole,
and whoever looks at it after being bitten will live."
Moses accordingly made a bronze serpent and mounted it on a pole,
and whenever anyone who had been bitten by a serpent
looked at the bronze serpent, he lived.
Wikipedia has a fascinating article on the Rod of Asclepius and mentions Moses' bronze serpent mounted on a pole. The symbol remains with us as a logo, used by many different medical organizations, including the United Nations WHO. Israel and Greece met on the Mediterranean Sea; we should not be surprised to find a common symbol of healing in both cultures.
The reference to the bronze serpent in Saint John's Gospel (3:14), "...and just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up" -- surely includes a strong dose of Johannine irony. The Bible, beginning in Genesis and ending with Revelation, has serious misgivings about serpents. Serpents kill people; serpents heal people. Serpents are evil, but a bronze serpent is sacred. Bronze images are idols and should be destroyed; but we must gaze upon this sacred image.
Jesus and his cross, as Simeon predicted, are also signs of contradiction. Jesus condemns and saves. The cross signifies shame, humiliation, oppression and death; the cross heals and frees.
Rather than resolving these contradictions, our Christian faith embraces and protects them. There is truth in irony; this is a mystery familiar to artist. (Even the swastika was, at one time, a symbol of prosperity and good luck.)
Our Catholic definitions -- "defined doctrines" -- retain and insist upon the contradictions. For instance, we believe in one God; and yet we worship the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit who are not the same as each other. We find ample witness of this in the Old and New Testaments. No one who has read the scriptures can say that Jesus is not God, nor can they say that Jesus the Son of God is God the Father. This paradox challenges even our syntax, as when we bless ourselves in the "name" of three names! That phrase concludes the Gospel of Saint Matthew and neither pope nor bishop can "fix" it.
Nineteenth century scientists, in their quest for certainty, used to get upset about our Roman Catholic confidence in contradictions. And then they discovered quantum.
As we approach Holy Week and Good Friday, we feel the stinging burn of the fiery serpents. They punish our Original Sin with its guilt, shame, confusion and helplessness. We would prefer to live without the heritage of sin and yet it is there in the color of our skin and the health of our bodies. I eat well because some people do not; our economy works that way and I cannot change it.
But the bronze serpent, the cross and sacred wounds in his risen body reveal the great mystery; the Lord heals not despite our sins but through our sins. That which was evil has become good; Death has been conquered and become a Servant of God. It was not banished or destroyed, it was converted and transformed. On Good Friday we will gaze into that darkness and see light.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.