Posted on 09/13/2025 6:46:36 PM PDT by fidelis
By Dr. John Bergsma
A paradox is an apparent contradiction or counterintuitive statement that, upon further examination, may, in fact, be true. Some famous paradoxes include Socrate’s statement: “I know one thing: that I know nothing.” There are paradoxes in psychology, like the fact that when one pursues happiness itself, one is miserable; but when one pursues something else, one achieves happiness. There are paradoxes in mathematics, like the fact that most people’s friends have more friends than they do (it’s true!). Or in physics: light particles act like bullets if you watch them but waves if you don’t (it’s true). In fact, it even holds true if you watch the light particles after the fact (yes, I’ve checked this out). In chemistry, water expands when it freezes, the only substance to do so, and a good thing too; otherwise ice would sink, and there would be no life on earth (too long to explain, but it’s true!).
So, in this paradoxical world, maybe it should not surprise us that the way we are saved from death and brought to eternal life is paradoxical: by gazing at an instrument of death, an ancient “electric chair,” the Cross.
On this Solemnity of the Exaltation of the Cross, we pause in the Church year to contemplate the ironies and the paradoxes of our salvation, this puzzling reality that God used one of the cruelest forms of execution ever thought up by the vile creativity of man to save the human race.
First Reading: Numbers 21:4b-9:
4bWith their patience worn out by the journey, 5the people complained against God and Moses, “Why have you brought us up from Egypt to die in this desert, where there is no food or water? We are disgusted with this wretched food!”
6In punishment the LORD sent among the people saraph serpents, which bit the people so that many of them died. 7Then the people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned in complaining against the LORD and you. Pray the LORD to take the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people, 8and the LORD said to Moses, “Make a saraph and mount it on a pole, and if any who have been bitten look at it, they will live.” 9Moses 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.
The Book of Numbers is only read three times in the Lectionary for Sundays and feast days, so allow me to say a little about this neglected book. We included this material the other time Numbers is read, on January 1, Mary, the Mother of God:
The Book of Numbers is a little less neglected than Leviticus among Christian readers, if only because, unlike its predecessor, it combines its long lists of laws with a number of dramatic narratives about the rebellions of Israel against God in the wilderness, which create literary interest. The name “Numbers” is, perhaps, already off-putting for the modern reader—it derives from the Septuagint name Arithmoi, “Numbers,” referring to the two numberings or censuses, one each of the first and second generations in the wilderness, that form the pillars of the literary structure of the book in chapters 1 and 26. The Hebrew name is bamidbar, “in the wilderness,” which is an accurate description of the geographical and spiritual location if Israel throughout most of the narrative.
The Book of Numbers has a strong literary relationship with its neighbors in the Pentateuch. In many ways it corresponds with the Book of Exodus. Exodus begins with the people staying in Egypt (Exod 1-13), then describes their journey through the desert (14-19), and ends with them stationary at Sinai. Numbers begins with the people staying at Sinai (Num 1-10), describes their journey through the desert (Num 11-25), and ends with them stationary at the Plains of Moab. Sinai and the Plains of Moab correspond: at each location the people receive a covenant (see below on Deut).
Furthermore, there are strong literary connections between the journeys in the wilderness to and from Sinai (Exod 14-19; Num 11-25). Both these sections are dominated by accounts of the people of Israel “murmuring” (Heb. lon), rebelling (Heb. marah), or “striving” (Heb. rib) against the Lord and/Moses, together with Moses’ need to for additional help to rule an unruly people (Exod 18; Num 11:16-39), and God’s miraculous provision for the people’s physical needs (Exod 15:22—17:7; Num 11:31-34; 20:1-13). This is evidence of careful literary artistry; the central Sinai narrative (Exod 20—Num 10) is surrounded by the unruly behavior of the people wandering in the desert.
In Christian interpretation, the difficulties of the wilderness wanderings, which keep tempting the people of Israel to sin, form an allegory of the spiritual life, where we are heading to heaven and know we will reach it but nonetheless face many difficulties and temptations in our current state. The bad example of the Israelites provides many negative models or warnings against faithlessness or lack of perseverance in the ascetical struggle.
The New Testament alludes to events in Numbers on many occasions. The famous narrative of John 6, the Bread of Life discourse, speaks of the people “murmuring” against Jesus, recalling the wilderness wanderings of Israel. The rebellions at Massa and Meribah, mentioned also in Psalm 95, are alluded to on various occasions. Another important reference to Numbers is the Gospel of today’s solemnity.
Looking now specifically at our reading for today, we note that the sin of the people is primarily ingratitude. Although they have been freed from Egyptian slavery and are being sustained in the desert on their way to a wonderful land, nonetheless, they complain about the stresses of the moment: travel is difficult, and the manna is boring. Christians can be like this. Although we have all the sacraments and the wonderful hope of sharing eternal life with God, we give in to complaining about the duress of the moment: I could use more money, better health, a different political situation, etc. This is all due to a lack of perspective, a failure to see the big picture and how good God is to us from an eternal viewpoint.
As punishment, God sends “burning” serpents among them: seraph means “burning,” like the burning angels that surround God and sing his praise, the seraphim. We don’t know why they are called seraph—perhaps because their venomous bite burned, or perhaps because of their color. In any event, they remind us of the serpent in the Garden and the power of evil. When we complain, we lose God’s protection and expose ourselves to the power of the evil one.
The people repent, and Moses makes a bronze serpent on a pole, at which the people can look and be healed. Bronze was a gleaming metal that perhaps resembled flames when the sunlight hit it. The people look at this image of their affliction, and that very act becomes their salvation. we will expound on the irony there at a later point, in the Gospel commentary.
The bronze serpent of Moses later became an object of idolatry and is mentioned in 2 Kings 18:4.
Responsorial Psalm | Psalm 78:1bc-2, 34-35, 36-37, 38:
R. Do not forget the works of the Lord!
1 Hearken, my people, to my teaching;
incline your ears to the words of my mouth.
2 I will open my mouth in a parable,
I will utter mysteries from of old.
R. Do not forget the works of the Lord!
34 While he slew them they sought him
and inquired after God again,
35 Remembering that God was their rock
and the Most High God, their redeemer.
R. Do not forget the works of the Lord!
36 But they flattered him with their mouths
and lied to him with their tongues,
37 Though their hearts were not steadfast toward him,
nor were they faithful to his covenant.
R. Do not forget the works of the Lord!
38 But he, being merciful, forgave their sin
and destroyed them not;
Often he turned back his anger
and let none of his wrath be roused.
R. Do not forget the works of the Lord!
Psalm 78 falls in Book III of the Psalter, the book that is connected with the downfall of the kingdom of David and ends with the two darkest and most hopeless psalms in the whole book: Psalms 88 and 89. Book III has the highest concentration of communal laments—psalms reflecting hardship for the whole community—of any book in the Psalter. Psalm 78 functions within this book to identify the cause of their troubles and call Israel to recognize it and repent. Israel was in distress because of their sin, and despite God’s mercy, they have still not fully repented. We, the new Israel of God (Gal 6:16), are called to be unlike them—to remember God’s goodness and be grateful.
Second Reading | Philippians 2:6-11:
[Brothers and sisters:] 6Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.
7Rather, he emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
8he humbled himself,
becoming obedient to death,
even death on a cross.
9Because of this, God greatly exalted him
and bestowed on him the name
that is above every name,
10that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
11and every tongue confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
This is often called the “Christ Hymn” of Philippians because scholars believe it is actually an early Christian hymn, poem, or creed that Paul is reusing, I’m not sure that makes any difference to its interpretation.
The expression, “though he was in the form of God” uses ancient terminology and concepts but essentially means, “though he shared the divine nature.” The term “form” is not being used in an Aristotelian sense, but almost as the equivalent of “substance” or “nature” in later theological discourse.
As we noted on Palm/Passion Sunday, the line “[he] did not regard equality with God something to be grasped” (Greek harpazo) is very striking. The Greek verb harpazo is vigorous. It refers to a snatching away, a violent grabbing. Greek readers would probably be thinking of Prometheus, the legendary “hero” who snatched fire from the gods in an act of hubris. Jesus is the opposite of Prometheus; he is not man challenging the status of the gods, but God willingly accepting, even embracing the status of a man.
Jesus embraces not only humanity, but also the lowest form of humanity: slavery, even to the point of death on the Cross. The connection between “the form of a slave” and “death on a cross” is that Crucifixion was a terrible form of execution that could not be used on citizens and free persons but was reserved for slaves, foreigners, and anyone else that did not have legal standing in Roman society.
And here comes the paradox: “Because of this, God greatly exalted him.” Though he died the death of a slave, he ends up receiving a status greater than the Roman Emperor himself: “That at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.” This recalls ancient culture, where everyone had to kneel or even prostrate themselves before kings and emperors, and those who didn’t were forcibly made to do so by soldiers. Jesus stripped himself of all glory and embraced the status of a human slave, and in response God the Father has given him every glory and made him King of the universe. This is the paradox of the Cross: “Whoever seeks to preserve his live will lose it, but whoever loses it will save it” (Luke 17:33).
Gospel Reading | John 3:13-17
[Jesus said to Nicodemus:] 13“No one has gone up to heaven except the one who has come down from heaven, the Son of Man. 14And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, 15so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.”
16For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. 17For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.
Our Gospel takes up the theme of the First Reading: “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.” There are several levels of paradox, irony, and double-meaning in this one line. The serpent was a sign of judgment, of evil, and of death. It recalled the serpent in the Garden. Nonetheless, gazing on the serpent brought life. Similarly, Jesus is going to be subjected to torture and great evil, and be killed by being lifted up on the Cross. A cross is a terrible punishment that only a very vile person could deserve—the cross is fit for the devil himself. Yet Jesus is subjected to a fate the devil deserves. To outward appearances, Jesus looks like an evil criminal on the Cross. There is no visible sign of his innocence or his divinity.
The cross was a means of execution, like the electric chair. It’s highly ironic that the cross is now a sign of healthcare and hospitals. Would electric chairs ever be a sign of healing? Would people ever wear gold electric chairs around their necks?
But how is it that we are saved by the Cross? Jesus says, “so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” Belief is necessary for salvation, but our English language fails us with this term “belief.” The Greek verb used, pisteuo, is from the noun pistis, which is probably closer to our English “trust.” We could translate the line “so that everyone who trusts in him may have eternal life,” or even “everyone who puts his trust in him may have eternal life.”
My point is that it is not a matter of intellectual belief, as if affirming some facts about Jesus or acknowledging mentally that he is the Son of God will save you. It’s a relationship of trust. We trust Jesus, we trust what Jesus says, and we entrust ourselves to Jesus. I guess the key here is that we understand “believing in Jesus” means “trusting in Jesus,” and you don’t really believe or trust a person if you don’t listen and do what they say. I think in the Reformation there was kind of a lobotomy of the Christian brain, such that people began to think that you could believe in Jesus without obeying him, as if the thinking lobe of the brain was cut off from the acting lobe. This idea would not have occurred to John, the Gospel writer who records Jesus’ words here.
If we say that gazing on the Cross saves us as gazing on the bronze serpent saved the Israelites, we would have to understand that “gazing” means both contemplation and acceptance. We look at Christ’s Cross, and we first contemplate God’s love expressed there, witnessing how deeply God loved us to take on the form of a slave and die so terribly for us, and then we move on to acceptance or embrace, taking the Cross to ourselves, accepting it as our own, embracing our own suffering in union with Jesus:
He said to all, “If anyone wishes to come after me, he
must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.
For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it,
but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.”
(Luke 9:23-24)
When we make Christ’s Cross our own cross, and our cross his, then we are saved for eternal life.
Please keep in mind that this is a Catholic Caucus/Devotional thread for the purpose of prayerful reflection on the Sacred Scriptures and is closed to debate of any kind. Per FR policy on Religion Caucus threads, off-topic, argumentative, and abusive comments are not allowed and will be submitted to the Mods for deletion. Thanks, and God bless you and have a holy Lord’s Day.
Pinging the weekly Sacred Page list!
As one serving on the Altar Guild in my local parish, the paraments tomorrow will be scarlet, and The Exaltation of the Cross observed.
Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod parish in South Bend, IN, by the grace of God.
I suspect they will be the same for Catholic Masses.
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