The Fourth Sunday in Lent
Sermon by Rev Timothy A Leitzke
It was a
cool summer evening in the south of
In the book
of Numbers the Israelites complain about the food God provides, and in response
God sends poisonous snakes to bite and kill them. The snake smacks of great
symbolism. It is after all the snake that promises Eve that she and Adam can be
like gods if only they break God’s lone commandment. Now, in exchange for
Moses makes
his own snake out of bronze and hangs it up for all to see, so that if they are
bitten they can look at the snake and be healed. A story with such symbolism
deserves a symbolic interpretation. There is, for the Israelites, something
curative and healthy about facing the Sin that keeps them from God. They rebel
and are set upon by the symbol of Sin itself. When they look upon the bronze
serpent they acknowledge their Sin, and God grants forgiveness. Their Sin is
sent away. God forgives them, and God forgives us.
There is
something decidedly public about the forgiveness in the bronze serpent, and in
the iron Christ of Carcassonne. The God present in the bronze serpent and in
the crucified Christ wants to be noticed. We have a tendency to ignore God in
public, to turn our backs as the diners in
Not only is
the message of our faith broadcast publicly; the nature of faith is public.
Faith happens in our interaction with others. St. James says, “Faith
‘alone’—having no works—is dead…. For as the body apart from its breath is
dead, so faith apart from works is dead.” (Jas 2:17,26) God has forgiven each
of you as individuals out of love for you; the faith God has given you is dead
if it is not shared. In Holy Baptism God promises to remember us forever. In
Holy Communion God shapes us and nourishes us as food nourishes our bodies. In
both sacraments God promises and delivers forgiveness, sanctification—the
ability to do the things God wants us to do—and union with Christ and with one
another. We have these gifts because God so loved the world. They are not our
private possessions.
Friends of
Christ, when we gather for this holy meal we come not in shrouded privacy but
in full union with our brothers and sisters in Christ, both here and now and at
all times and in all places. When the bread is given and you hear the words,
“given for you,” you are united with those before and after you in line. The
meal served from this table cannot be contained by any fence; it bursts out and
into each of us. Keeping that gift private, to ourselves, leaves it dead. I
recently asked the Confirmation class where the body and blood of Christ go
when you eat and drink them. One of our learners—I won’t name him but his initials
are Spencer Blazak—suggested that they go into one’s colon. I assured the class
that God does indeed redeem even our intestines, but what a wonderful image
that had been given to me! Faith, received in word and water, bread and wine,
when not shared, goes into your colon. Faith not shared is faith wasted.
Private faith is flushed down the drain. Public
faith is life for you and for me. Public faith is faith put to use. It’s the
faith that goes into our muscles, into our minds, into our interactions with
one another.
When the assisting minister looks you
in the eye and says, “The blood of Christ, shed for you,” that is public faith.
When your sister in Christ hugs you in the midst of a bad day, that is public
faith. When your brother in Christ listens to you, that is public faith. When
you live shaped by the love poured out for you in Christ, that is public faith.
When we break bread together, when we drink coffee together, when we stock a
food pantry together, when we comfort a loved one, when we comfort a stranger,
that is public faith, and public faith is living faith.
I sense a
response, “But Pastor, what if I was alone on a desert island? Would my faith
be dead?” To that I would say, first, “You’re not on a desert island!” Second,
even on a desert island you are not really alone. The gifts that God has given
to you remain with you, God remains with you, and your faith is lived out even
on that island. You have the birds and the fish to interact with. You are not
in a vacuum. Your faith is alive in your relationship with your surroundings,
whatever they are.
Faith begins
in God. Faith begins in the public announcement of God’s love for all creation.
There is nothing secret. There is nothing private. The Son of Humanity is
lifted up. God is revealed on the cross, publicly, so that the entire cosmos
can see. The bronze serpent publicly promises healing. The iron Christ of
Carcassonne stands over the plaza and promises forgiveness, and I share it with
you now rather than let it go to waste. Not everyone noticed it, true. Perhaps
the Christ of Carcassonne was not public enough. Perhaps attention could have
been drawn if the DJ had simply pulled a different tune from his Prince
anthology. The Church has spent a ton of energy on denouncing the purple clad pop
star from