Healing Snakes: Christ and Healing from Bitterness
By The Rev. Rian Adams
The title says it all! Through the Christ and his love there is healing from bitterness. Today’s lesson is a prime example of how that can happen.
When the image of a snake comes to mind it usually carries a negative connotation. I had many lessons as a child about the dangers of snakes. But Jesus, like so many things in the Gospel of John, flips the reader’s preconceived notions to the other side of the coin. Snakes can also be a symbol of healing. As a matter of fact, Jesus likens himself to a snake!
The lectionary reading for this Sunday contains one of the most famous passages, John 3:16. However, in this post I want to focus your attention elsewhere. As you read, listen to how Jesus likens himself to a snake.
The Lectionary Gospel, John 3:1-17. The First Sunday After Pentecost.
Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. He came to Jesus at night and said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.” Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again. “How can someone be born when they are old?” Nicodemus asked. “Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be born!”
Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, ‘You must be born again.’ The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”“How can this be?” Nicodemus asked.
“You are Israel’s teacher,” said Jesus, “and do you not understand these things? Very truly I tell you, we speak of what we know, and we testify to what we have seen, but still you people do not accept our testimony. I have spoken to you of earthly things and you do not believe; how then will you believe if I speak of heavenly things? No one has ever gone into heaven except the one who came from heaven—the Son of Man.
Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.”
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.
A fight of consciousness
The story of Moses and the snake is in Numbers 21:4-9. It’s a familiar story if you grew up around church. To summarize it, the people of Israel were wandering in a desert after their escape from Egyptian slavery. Israel is in the desert with no food, no water, and no hope. So, they do what people do… they turn on their leader. They blame Moses for getting them in the situation. I suppose when things get rough it’s always easy to blame the pastor.
It’s ironic that when people are on the precipice of growth, the unconscious will often rebel and demand they revert back to old ways of thinking. Jung said in Psychology and Alchemy, that “People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls.”
Case in point, Numbers says that the Israelites lusted after their slavery in Egypt. Oh the irony… some would rather be slaves and eat than have their freedom and go hungry.
Often growth means we will become uncomfortable. Perhaps to grow also means that we will come face to face with our greatest anxieties.
Healed by a snake
The deity of Israel becomes angry because of the attitudes of his people. Therefore he sends poisonous snakes among them to bite them. The story says some even die of the snake venom. They repent and then ask Moses to talk to God for them.
I think Israel failed to appreciate the spiritual journey and that opened the door to bitter poison in their veins. .
Moses forges a serpent out of bronze and places it on a pole. A miracle occurs and all who gaze upon the snake receive healing from the poison.
In other words, once you are willing to look at the true cause of bitterness in your veins, then healing can occur.
When we are willing to observe our pain, then we are able to find healing from bitterness. It’s often terrifying to accept one’s self. However, Israel had to observe the instrument of their own poison before God healed them.
The snake and myth
In the minds of many Christians the snake is a dubious creature because of the role it plays in the Garden of Eden. It’s often associated with evil. However, in the Eden story the snake even talks. I think this highlights the snake’s wisdom, but also it shows us the snake’s shadow side of patient deception.
Other cultures do not view the snake in such a negative light. For instance, the ancient Sumerians held a different view. the snake sheds its old skin only to emerge in a new one. In this way, the Epic of Gilgamesh presents the serpent as the one possessing the gift of immortality — always shedding its smaller self to grow into a new definition.
In Greek mythology the snake is found in the god Asklepius who often takes the form of a snake. Various cultures present the serpent as a symbol of growth, immortality, and healing. The snake can teach us wisdom. We shouldn’t over emphasize the snake as a one dimensional picture of evil.
Jesus even admonishes his listeners to be “as wise as serpents.” (Matthew 10:16).
Jesus and healing from bitterness
Enter Jesus! He speaks with a Pharisee named Nicodemus about spirituality. Their exchange has sarcasm… Jesus says, “How are you a teacher in Israel and do not understand the Spirit blows wherever it would like?”
To paraphrase, “Nicodemus, your sect has created a box for God, and through that box you have limited God to doctrines and behaviors. That won’t work because God will show up in other ways, in other cultures, by other means. If you’re not careful, you’ll miss it.”
Jesus goes on to say that following the Spirit would mean observing the healing power of the Christ crucified.
Like the snake, the Christ brings healing when we observe his sacrifice. The symbolism is clear, when we recognize that our propensity for persecution is based in our resistance of wisdom,
then we are able to find healing for the soul.
I think Jesus likens himself to a snake to teach an important lesson. That lesson is that when we observe the way of love and mercy through sacrifice of the self (ego), we can receive healing from the poison of bitterness, anger, and hatred.
God loves us. God desires to heal us of the areas of anger and bitterness. The challenge is often our willingness to observe the truth of it first. My poem Destiny touches on the subject. If you can find it here.
Follow the way of the one who heals the soul and gives it life… there you find healing from bitterness.
Peace,
Rian+
Grace: A Poem For My Grandparents On Their 62nd Wedding Anniversary
My grandparents taught me the beauty and the subtle art of grace through their relationship. Today they celebrate their 62nd wedding anniversary and as such I offer them this humble poem. They are people who are willing to suffer together because of their spirituality. Compassion for the other marked their relationship. It is quite challenging in a day when pop culture says that relationships are about ourselves.
If you would like to read more of there story please click here.
If you would like to check out more of my poetry head over to the poetry page, or, click here.
Reflections on Grace: The 62nd Wedding Anniversary of My Grandparents
By The Rev. Rian Adams
Today my grandparents, both alive and in good health, celebrate their 62nd wedding anniversary. I learned many lessons about grace as I watched and reflected on their relationship.
I woke up early this morning intending to work on my dissertation that, ironically enough, focuses on a theology of mercy. That’s when it hit me; a great way to understand mercy is to reflect on how amazing people have lived their vocations together these past 62 years. Their love has modeled compassion and mercy to me and countless others. They were both pastors, and as I look back over their relationship, I realize they were pastors to one another too.
Not long ago they were in Asheville, “just to visit.” (By the way, that’s code for “We needed to see that grand-baby.”) During that time my grandfather said something so profound I have quoted his spiritual approach to forgiveness in my doctoral work: “You can never understand grace until you’ve needed it. The problem with the church is most folks have never truly needed it.”
When I’m around them I tend to revert to my country dialect, so I said, “Now ain’t that the truth.” The part of the quote I decided to leave out of my dissertation, which is probably the best part, is the third sentence, “There ain’t no need to be a horse’s rear end in the name of God.”
That’s better pastoral theology than I can write.
Growing up with grace
I was fortunate enough to grow up in their home, so I have the inside scoop on what shared grace looks like. That grace was extended to a young boy who was five years old, afraid and needed to be loved past some of the trauma of his first few years of life. As I’ve gotten older, I cry more when I’m alone. Often when I reflect on their mercy toward me, my eyes fill with tears and I let them roll down my cheeks. I’ll forever be grateful that a couple of empty nesters, who loved their freedom to travel, welcomed the responsibility of raising a little boy.
Grace… to stoop in kindness… it’s the one word that defines how I understand them. Grace is also the one word that described their approach to raising me. I can recall numerous instances where I messed up and didn’t meet expectations, yet I was not met with rebuke, violence, or bible verses. The notion of “tough love” didn’t exist in the hearts of these two people because their world view was shaped by the Beatitudes of Jesus.
Looking back I don’t think I got away with nearly as much as I thought I did. Now that I’m a parent I see things a bit differently. They knew all along what I was up to; they just decided that mercy was more important than justice. That is why they let most of my shenanigans go. Mainly, they knew that life could teach me more than punishment ever would. Punishment would have fostered resentment and motivated secrecy whereas their grace taught me to give mercy to others because I first received it.
Education, common sense, and grace
My grandparents pushed me to get the education that was never afforded to them. But it didn’t stop there because they made sure common sense accompanied my education.
Riley taught me how to wire a breaker box, fix a car, frame a house, and repair a home heating system. He taught me how to stand up for myself against bullies, how to talk about difficult subjects and not ignore them, how to ride a bike, and how to preach a sermon for the congregation, not at the congregation. I’m particularly thankful for that lesson because out of all the classes in homiletics that I have taken; most view the pulpit at a top-down educational tool instead of a table filled with soul food.
When I was 14, he bought a classic Chevrolet Bel-Air so we could restore it together over the following two years. He worked hard, running his heating and air business while serving as a church pastor. However, he never sacrificed our relationship on an altar of ministry.
He always had time for me.
Erlene helped me with my math homework by learning it during the day while I was in school so she could teach me in the evenings. She taught me how to play the guitar, how to sing, how to think critically about biblical stories and how to study. She fostered my love of music and purchased numerous instruments for me. If that wasn’t enough, she taught me the important lesson that “The Lord wants us to love people.” She carried herself with grace and exuded a kindness that made time for everyone. One of her great lessons was that my morning should start slowly with a cup of good coffee and some quiet time.
They were always kind. Once I made some media and was mocked on Episcopal Church social media sites. Guess who was there to show me grace before anyone else? My friend, mentor, father, and pastor. Riley. His words of wisdom were simple and true, “Ah… son, don’t worry about it. Anyone with half a brain knows the news is all garbage these days. That mess lost its credibility the moment journalism became a 24 hour a day cycle.”
Some History
I’ve often wondered if grace was the byproduct of transforming a problematic early life into a spirituality of mercy and love. The more I contemplate their lives, the more it is particularly evident.
Riley quit school in the 5th grade during the second world war to support his mother and four younger siblings because his father was hours away in a hospital ward suffering from tuberculosis. To ask an 11-year-old boy to be a man is asking a lot. However, there was only one option, go to work at the sawmill.
One thing that inspires me about him is his work ethic. To this day he keeps himself occupied with physical activity. An active life is probably why he’s still strong.
I love the story he tells about how he met my grandmother.
He claims he fell in love with her the moment he first saw her. Call me silly, but I do believe in love at first sight. He drove down the street and looked out of the car window to see Erlene sitting in an open door of a house. She was smiling. That was the moment he says he knew. After some inquiries, he learned who she was, and he landed a date with her. The rest is 62 years of history.
They are people of compassion. In Latin, the word misericordia is often translated compassion. It means to have one’s heart (cordia) at one with those in need (miseri). I’ve watched them transform their suffering and struggles into compassion for one another, the poor, and those in need.
They have three children buried in Pine Memorial Cemetery. I’ve often wondered if, somehow, God’s grace transformed that pain into a willingness to hold the pain of others and not shy from it. Like skilled therapists, they can take the light of compassion and shine it on difficult circumstances. They can put themselves in another person’s shoes before making judgments. Are they perfect? They would instantly say no. But what makes them who they are is their compassion for each other and those around them. They knew a secret… when you live out of kindness, most issues are minimal in the grand scheme of things.
Travels
They taught me a love for travel. On their last visit, we examined a map and realized that we visited 38 states through our travels together. In the 1990s they took a sabbatical from church, and we traveled from Florida to Alaska and back. I’ll never forget Riley working on Houston Lolley’s truck on that trip… The fuel pump malfunctioned. He worked on it for an hour or so and finally lost his cool. He hit it with a hammer. The fuel pump started running and remained in perfect health for years. He claimed God did it. Maybe God did…
We toured the Middle East together. We visited the Rocky Mountains, California, the Great Plains, and the Smokies. They were there when I fractured my ankle roughhousing with Ben (rest in peace my dear friend) in Texas. They were there when I had altitude sickness mountain climbing in Colorado. We’ve watched the sun rise over the Atlantic in Florida and watched it set over the Pacific in Oregon. We rarely took the beaten path, and when we did, we didn’t stay on it very long.
They made sure that I traveled enough to know that the world was bigger than my small town context.
A working man’s theology
Neither was raised in religious settings. That’s probably what made them a good fit for ministry because they didn’t have to unlearn anything to love people. My grandfather had a reputation for being a hell-raiser in his younger days, so his youth gave room for compassion. He knew he needed grace and mercy and that made him a good pastor. They both came to Christianity a little later in life and soon after they discerned calls to ministry.
These were the days long before women were accepted in ministry (women are still banned from ordination in many denominations). Those rules didn’t stop my grandmother. Her quiet tenacity kicked in, and she followed her calling anyway.
She didn’t care if the majority of the Christian church had no room for her at the time; she knew Jesus had room.
She didn’t care for “clothes line preaching,” finding it shallow and missing the message of the Beatitudes. Erlene knew the Gospel was good news, not another political rant. In a time when their conservative denomination looked down on jewelry and hair dye, she dyed her hair and wore jewelry anyway. That strong woman never caved to a religion that based its spirituality on behaviorism, persona, or contemporary social standards. She preached grace, not only in her sermons but with her life. I’ve only heard her speak ill of people on two short and private occasions… One a president, the second, well… that’s between her and me.
They were always kind to people with different ideas and theologies. When I was ordained a priest, my grandfather was there, and at the invitation of the bishop, he joined the other priests in laying hands on me. I was ordained to the sacred order of priests with his hands on my shoulders. He understood grace, so did that bishop. Interestingly enough he never mentioned his opinions on Anglicanism to me even though I knew he differed. On the contrary, he supported me wherever my vocation took me.
Another example of accommodation, they were Pentecostal and did not baptize infants. When I baptized my son, they were there with love and support. Riley stood with me and participated by placing his hands on the boy to offer a pastoral blessing. He put his theology of infant baptism aside and participated because being right took a back seat to the importance of relationship.
Riley also officiated my wedding. My only regret was that he couldn’t be my best man at the same time because he was both my friend and my pastor.
Legacy
As I conclude my thoughts, I’ve asked myself about their legacy. I figured the best way to ponder it is through the eyes of a child. So I asked their great-grandson, who’s eight now, for help. I said, “Hey Brody, what’s the most important thing about your great grandparents?” He said, “Wow, I’m not sure where to start. They are nice and kind, and generous. They have always been with me for all my surgeries and granny gives the best hugs.” His experience of them is the same as mine… Grace.
There is a strong message there: Trust the people who give you heartfelt hugs in your times of need.
They also accomplished something that is quite rare these days; they showed the same amount of attention and love to my spouse as they did me. They always spent as much money, or more, on Amber for Christmas and birthdays. While I was deployed to Afghanistan, they constantly checked on her and treated her like a daughter. In many ways, she was a spiritual daughter. Riley baptized Amber in the same sandy creek where he baptized me.
In honor of the grace they share and the compassion they give I have written this poem, titled Grace, for them. You can read it by clicking here.
On a personal note
To them specifically, if by chance they read this, I say… Erlene, Riley… you’re still who I want to be when I grow up. Thank you for showing me what love is by loving one another with a grace that endured all hardship. I adore you both, and as importantly, I respect you. I hope to celebrate 63 with you in person next year. Happy Anniversary.
Yours Always,
Rian