Complaining again

 

A Sermon preached on Lent IV, March 14, 2021 at St. Augustine’s, Wiesbaden

Numbers 21:4-9, Ephesians 2:1-10, John 3:14-21

I mentioned at the beginning of the service that today is Laetare Sunday from the Latin for “Rejoice!” But today’s old Testament reading from the book of Numbers is not about rejoicing at all, it is one of the so-called murmuring, mumbling, or grumbling passages. In each of these episodes, the Israelites, on their long journey from Egypt to the Promised Land, find something to complain about. They do not like the food or the lack of it, they do not have anything to drink. It is all taking far too long, they wish they had never left home, and that Moses guy is leaving us astray, and where is God in this anyway? It is one of those passages that tell us that however old the Bible may be, humans have not changed much since it was written. Right now, it reminds me a little bit of the situation in the pandemic.

We seem to have a lot to complain about too. Whether it is the wrong vaccine, or the wrong masks, or the vaccination is taking too long, or we are reopening things too early or too late. We have massive expectations that are just not being fulfilled. And, like the Israelites who began complaining only days after leaving – fleeing – Egypt – our memories are very short. We forget the good – that it is amazing, we could say even miraculous that we already have not one but several suitable vaccines. We forget the bad – some of the countries who are now being praised for the speed of their vaccination programme made a complete mess, sometimes a fatal mess of their containment strategy. And we forget the reasons for some of the delays. At the end of last year, the big worry was that not enough people would want to be vaccinated, many were afraid and concerned. And so, correctly in my opinion, those in charge decided to be extra careful and transparent, to follow the more regular approval process without short cuts, and not to release the manufacturers from their liability, or agree to the often initially excessive price demands. And now demand – temporarily – exceeds supply. I’m not saying that no mistakes were made. There were and there still are. But folks, we murmur and mumble and grumble too much.

Let us just hope that we do not have to suffer the same consequences as the Israelites. Their journey ended up taking 40 years because they complained so much. I really do not want our Covid restrictions to last for another 40 years. But I am not even certain that it was a punishment at all. What makes the Israelites murmur and grumble and complain are unrealistic expectations, ones that just cannot be met, and most of all a lack of trust or faith in God and a lack of knowledge of God. So, God takes time to build up a relationship, for the whole 40 years God lived in the midst of them, in a tent, and led them as a pillar of cloud by day and as a column of fire by night. God wants them to get to know God intimately. And the Commandments, not just the 10 but also the other 613 commandments Douglas reminded us about last week, are ground rules the people gave themselves, with perhaps at times a little bit too much love for detail, to describe how to live in a life bringing and loving relationship with God and one another.

Yet in the story from Numbers that we heard this morning; God seems to punish this particular act of murmuring with a plague of poisonous snakes. I see it more as a metaphor, a living picture of how the poison of fear and suspicion infects and hurts the community, as their faith and trust wavered. The cure of making a serpent of bronze and putting it on a pole is God’s way of saying look at what you fear, but trust in my continuing presence and you will live.

Before the great fire of 1966 the well-known words from today’s Gospel - God so loved the world that he gave his only Son – were written, in Latin, on the beam of a rood screen right above my head. On top of the beam stood the crucifix whose charcoaled remains are now in the entrance area of the church, while the charcoaled beam with the words “sic deus dilexit mundum” (God so loved the world) is now at the base of the choir loft.  John 3:16 is for many people such an important promise that they have it as a bumper sticker, or as a tattoo, and of course there are companies who use it on their packaging – often just the citation as shorthand for the full sentence.

Jesus goes on to say, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” (John 3:17) God sent the Son for the same reason that God spent 40 years with the Israelites. To build or rebuild the relationship and to help us to know God, now to actually see God and to walk with God in Jesus. And in the end, through the cross, came the promise that nothing can separate us from the love of God, ever.

I know that the phrase “so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life” sounds like an exclusion and is sadly often used as on: I’m saved, you’re not! But that is not the case. The full, abundant, joyful, and eternal life that God offers is a gift, that still requires a response: the gift has to be accepted, we have to trust in the one who gives, and we have to believe that the gift is effective now. But nevertheless, it is a gift for everyone, even for those who ignore it. When we evangelise, all we are really doing is trying to open people’s eyes to what is already there.

At the beginning of the Gospel reading, Jesus says “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.” (3:14-15) Jesus is alluding to the story we heard in Numbers. But instead of an object of fear being lifted up, Jesus is lifted up as the one who takes all fear away. That was the idea of the rood screen that used to be here – I almost wish it still was! You would see and read the promise and above the words you would see Jesus on the cross, conquering death, and by looking at him, with the eyes of faith, you were reminded of the gift of love and life.

The rood screen was also symbolically the doorway or gateway to the altar where every week we celebrate the continuing presence of God in Jesus in the bread and wine made holy, and in the community – the Body of Christ – formed around this table. The Eucharist is also an antidote to the amnesia –forgetting God and forgetting God’s promises – that we, like the Israelites are also susceptible to. A key part of the Eucharist is what we call “anamnesis” - reminiscence or memorial. We recall God's saving deeds, especially the gift of God’s Son, as a way of renewing our trust and faith, of sustaining us on our journey, and giving thanks – which is the very opposite of complaining. 

Let us give thanks to the Lord our God: It is right to give our thanks and praise.

Amen.