"Lost Language"

Sermon by Brian Russo
April 11, 2010, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill

Numbers 21:1-9
John 20:1-18

When we open the Good Book for the first, twentieth, or seventieth time, we witness scripture unfold like a bee absorbs information from the surrounding world. That is to say a bee has five eyes, three “normal” and two compound; and the two compound eyes are made up of hundreds of single “eyes” called ommatidia, each capable of looking in their own direction. All of those little eyes and lenses structure their world -- our world --so differently that it’s hard to imagine that we are at all occupying the same space. And this is precisely how scripture comes to us in the year 2010, not simply through our own perspectives but through the minds of a society thousands of years ago since passed, through uncounted amounts of translations and mistranslations, through our own conditioned biases, familial upbringings and theologies attached, and therefore through hundreds of single eyes who have all collaborated together to give us what we now recognize as the Divine Word.

Thus, it really must be understood that history 2000 years ago was simply not as history is right now. There were no cameras, no eyewitness reports corroborated through visual or audio evidence, no Al Gore to disseminate information through the internet. History was simply told, maybe sometimes written down, but both were accomplished through the perspective of storytelling -- the message was key, the minutiae of facts were not. Therefore, history was an entangled web of kernels of truth and elaborated symbology. And no one questioned it. And no one thought to redact it. The symbols were the language of the story, equal to the words in between if not more so. And we have forgotten that.

So when we sit down to read Genesis, Numbers or John, or any other work within this Great Work, we must realize that we are not reading words Fed-Exed upon special delivery, but we are walking through a portal to a history of the world that was so drastically different from our own today. It only stands to reason then that Paul and his contemporaries did not write letters, gospels, and narratives with an Attention Line to Brian Russo, Cindy Jarvis, PCCH, and every other church still standing in the post-modern world. Rather, we must remember that the collection of works which comprise the Bible were written for the immediate comprehension of those familiar with a culture that would understand such things as serpents on poles equating to life ever after.

Speaking of which, that’s a bit of an odd concept isn’t it? Perhaps this is why we never hear much from Numbers on a Sunday morning. A serpent symbolizing life? But I thought the serpent was the Devil, Satan, and thus only a manifestation of death and a fall from life?

Hmm. Well, there is perhaps no greater injustice to the world of reptiles than this claim. Where oh where is there any such mention of Satan in the Genesis account? Has it just become assimilated into our subconscious that we’ve all accepted it as fact? Or is it more because later writings suggest a correlation? The truth of the matter is that the Devil is nowhere to be found in the original sin; and more, the serpent did absolutely nothing wrong in the Garden.

I know, this might seem shocking and a bit heretical of a claim, but in reality, it’s simply the truth. Do you disagree? Even if you were to read the account superficially [and by that I mean to read into the words merely as they appear on the surface] you’d be forced to make the same conclusion. God tells Adam in the previous chapter that if he eats from the tree of knowledge, he will die. Very well. In the next chapter however, after the woman was created, she is approached by the serpent and asked,
    “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden?’” The woman responds, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden [the tree of knowledge], nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.’” But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not die, for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” (Gen 3:1b-5)

What exactly does the serpent do wrong, again? Does the serpent trick the woman by telling her an untruth? Does she eat and die just as God warned? Or does the woman eat and instead have her eyes opened just like the serpent predicted? Further reading proves that it is the latter, which obviously raises some serious questions if we are at all to take any of this literally. Did God lie? How does the serpent already know the outcome? Can serpents actually talk? Forgetting that last question, I think it is worth considering that something extraordinary is going on here; perhaps, indeed, something figuratively and symbolically.

But before we can venture into that claim, you should know that the serpent was known as a symbol for wisdom, life and healing in the ancient world. While also known for death, it was also known for rebirth – it descends into the ground only to rise again, while shedding its old skin for newer skin in the process. It was also the symbol taken by Tiamat, the Goddess of the primordial chaos that the God Marduk had to destroy in order to create the world in the Babylonian Creation account, the Enuma Elish. (sounds familiar to Genesis 1 doesn’t it?) It truly was the symbol of symbols, as Dr. James Charlesworth of Princeton Theological Seminary exclaims; no symbol was more used and relied upon than that of the serpent.

Doesn’t it just make so much more sense now when reading the Eden account? Doesn’t it just raise your appreciation for the Word? Doesn’t it just make it come alive, bursting at the seams with historical context and vividly creative imagery? Doesn’t it just make it so much more brilliant, enough that you can happily declare to your secular friends, “yes I read the Bible, why don’t you?” You have a serpent, whose eyes are always open for snakes have no such eye-lid, who is also by chance the ancient symbol for wisdom, who entices the woman toward the fruit so that her eyes may also be open and that she could finally decipher the wisdom between good and evil. Indeed, brilliant I say!

“Oh, but who cares!” you might be internally screaming. Well for one, I care, and I’m preaching today, so tough toots. But more, the Biblical authors cared, and went to such literary lengths to interweave the language of their time – the symbol – into some of the most important of religious events and narratives.

And here’s the shocker of shockers, they even interwove it into the account of the Resurrection! So you should only care all the more! John 20 sets the scene. Jesus has died and has been laid to rest in a tomb in the earth, wrapped in a linen cloth. But when the Peter and the beloved disciple approach on the third day, they notice that the stone has been rolled away and Jesus’ body is nowhere to be found. But John doesn’t merely describe it as that, rather he makes careful notice to point out the detail that, “Peter saw the linen wrappings lying there [in place of the body].” Unlike Lazurus who emerged fully clothed in the burial wrappings, Jesus’ body is nowhere to be found and only the wrappings are left behind. Does this language not parallel the imagery of a serpent that sheds its skin?

I know it’s all a bit shocking, and perhaps even unbelievable. But is it anymore inconceivable than the actual story itself? But let’s look further, shall we? When Jesus approaches Mary Magadalene who is crying outside of the temple, she does not recognize him for he is. In fact, she mistakes him for the gardener. Interesting profession to be mistaken for, no? What does every good garden need? … Jesus also only calls Mary “woman,” just like Eve is only known by the same noun in the Genesis account. It’s not until Jesus calls out her name, that her eyes are finally opened and she can see for the first time who is speaking to her.

John, known as the gospel that most incorporates the fabled Book of Signs, which are really more like symbols, closes his reimagining of the Eden narrative with the awesome account of the ascension. As Mary runs to embrace Jesus, he stops her declaring, “Do not hold onto me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father.” Just like the serpent sheds its skin for a newer creation, so Jesus has done the same, only that his new creation is in Heaven, sitteth on the right hand of Father.

Now I can tell, some of you aren’t buying a word of this, and that’s fine. Charlesworth has spent his life studying it, analyzing the true power of the symbol in the text, but we wont tell him it was for naught. I mean, come on Charlesworth, or should we say, Brian, “Jesus as a serpent?” symbolically or not give me a break! Jesus would never appropriate himself as such a symbol, thus neither should we!

Hmm… but wait a second. John 3:14, two verses before the famous one. “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.” Jesus’ own words! Jesus is quoting Numbers! Oh that curious text of Numbers that we had trouble explaining in the beginning of this excursion comes full circle. Moses lifted up the bronze serpent on a pole in the wilderness, and whoever looked at it lived; Jesus lifted himself up on the pole, the cross at Golgatha, and whoever believes in him will have eternal life!

Now, am I telling you that Jesus was in actuality a parcel-tongued creature? Of course not, that would be a literal translation. But what I am saying is that it has always seemed to me ridiculous to think of Jesus, symbolically, as the Second Adam, as so many theologians have argued for before. After all, why should Jesus be associated with the fall of man? Rather, it makes more sense to me, and perhaps also to John, to consider Jesus, symbolically, as the Second Serpent. Just as the first serpent beckoned humanity to the Tree of Knowledge, such that we came to see and know the difference between good and evil, so Jesus returns us to the garden and the frequently forgotten second tree -- the Tree of Life. But instead of a fruit, we are tempted by the bread and the wine; and in reaching for it, in believing that we can grasp it, we fall into the grace of life eternal.

My friends, together with the authors of old I give you the serpent: a symbol we have grossly misunderstood – a microcosm of our scriptural imperceptions when we choose to apprehend it merely through the lenses of superficiality. But, if we take on new lenses, inheriting new eyesight, then we ought to see the Word from beneath its surface, tunneling deeper into scripture and the symbolically inspired minds who were so entrusted to write it. And though maybe afraid of what we might find, we should tempt our eyes to be opened and our minds to rejoice, as we put together the pieces of the lost language of this most Holy of Stories.

Amen.

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