About how a simple object, imbued with meaning, can bring about healing, or even... life?
We find ourselves in the desert, with the Israelites, plagued by venomous snakes. A dire situation, to say the least. God, in His infinite wisdom, doesn't just wave a magic wand. Instead, He gives Moses a curious instruction: to craft a serpent of brass, a Nehoshet, and raise it high upon a pole.
Now, isn't that interesting? According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Moses chose brass because in Hebrew, Nahash, meaning "snake," sounds very similar to Nehoshet, "brass." A subtle connection, a linguistic echo meant to resonate, perhaps, with the afflicted.
Moses obeys, and the brass serpent is hoisted aloft. It hangs there, suspended in the air, visible to all. But here's the twist, the part that truly makes this story sing: it wasn't simply looking at the serpent that healed them.
It was more than that.
The text tells us that healing came only when those who had been bitten raised their eyes and, crucially, "subordinated their hearts to the will of the heavenly Father." In other words, it was the act of faith, of acknowledging God's power, that brought about their recovery. If they looked at the serpent without that faith, if they gave "no thought to God," they perished.
Think about that for a moment. The physical act of looking wasn't enough. It was the internal shift, the turning of the heart toward the divine, that unlocked the healing. The serpent of brass, then, became a focal point, a symbol of something far greater.
It wasn't magic. It was a reminder. A reminder of where true healing ultimately comes from. It makes you wonder about the symbols we hold dear today. What do they truly represent? And what internal shifts do they require of us?