The wind and the water

http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Lent/ALent2_RCL.html

We have all heard at one time or another, that term “Born Again”. I used to see, quite frequently, a bumper sticker that said “Born Alright the First Time”. Does anyone else remember those? Certainly, this phrase gets thrown around a lot within the Christian world, and there’s usually some assumption that if you know what it means, you’ll know if you can claim it. Our tradition doesn’t usually describe ourselves this way, and perhaps there’s a reason for that.

Allow me to call your attention to a few things from today’s Gospel reading that might help us understand things a little bit better. As is usual in the Gospels, there’s a lot going on that you might miss unless you’re paying attention:

First, we have Nicodemus, who at least some scholars identify as Nicodemus Ben Gurion, who is mentioned in the Talmud as a wealthy and popular holy man who had miraculous powers. The Gospel of John has him as a Pharisee, those who believed strict adherence to the Law was the path to salvation, and who thus were concerned with holy and proper behavior. John also has him as a member of the Sanhedrin, the ruling council of Jerusalem. So here we have a well known, wealthy, holy and by all accounts quite spiritually gifted and politically powerful man, coming to see Jesus at night.

At night. This is not, as it turns out, the usual time for going to see religious teachers. I can’t help but think that Nicodemus is sneaking out to see Jesus, and doesn’t want anyone to see him doing it.

As it turns out, Nicodemus shows up two other times in John, once to stand up for him when he was arrested, and finally to help Joseph of Arimathea prepare the body of Jesus after the Crucifixion. Does that perhaps change the way that we see Nicodemus? A well respected man, who is willing to help, and is sympathetic to Jesus and his teaching, but is not quite ready to fully commit himself.

That sounds like many people I know. That sounds like me, quite honestly, much of the time.

Nicodemus, a man who is probably quite secure in his position in society, but who is curious, and willing to engage with this strange preacher from a small town in the middle of nowhere, and who isn’t one of the great and powerful. Nicodemus comes to Jesus and shows him a great deal of respect. He acknowledges Jesus’ position – that he comes from God. This seems to me to be very heartfelt.

Jesus – quite typically for John – doesn’t cut him any slack. He immediately gives him a rather disquieting statement, that no one who is not “born from above” can see the kingdom of god.

Now, to Nicodemus, this is probably quite shocking. He was born right the first time. The only time, in fact. He knows, deep down, that there are laws and that if you follow them, and do the right thing, you will be good with God. He is, in fact, “astonished”. Not only that, but Jesus (in John’s Greek) uses a term that is easily misunderstood, for the word used here for “born from above” – anagegennemenoy – can be understood to mean both “born from above” and “born again”. Jesus is clearly not making things easy for Nicodemus.

And of course, Nicodemus doesn’t get it. “Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?”

I think this is Jesus saying that what he is preaching is something new, something different. It is beyond the categories that Nicodemus is familiar with. That what Jesus is teaching is beyond the comprehension of the world. And moreover, what Jesus teaches, not the teachings themselves, but the way of life that he’s implying, is the way to salvation.

A hard message, to be sure, for a man in Nicodemus’ position to hear.

And, in that sense, I continue to feel sympathy for Nicodemus. Because it is hard to hear what Jesus is saying, and harder still for those of us who are comfortable with our lives, or well thought of in our communities to hear it. Hard to see how radical the message of Jesus actually is.

So this is the message we hear during Lent, a time when we are encouraged to change some aspects of our lives, rejecting things like having enough food to eat, or giving up the things we think we perhaps deserve; when we are extolled to pray and fast. And why are we asked to do these things?

One reason is so that we might get a glimpse of what Jesus was talking about. This new teaching, and new world that he was preaching about. Because, if we don’t change a few things about our lives, we will be blind to it, like Nicodemus was. We too will find ourselves astonished, regardless of how righteous or holy or good we are by the lights of our community, or society, or ourselves.

It’s a hard thing to hear. But ultimately, it is perhaps what we need to hear, now and again, if we are to continue on this path we have chosen.

Jesus’ teaching is something new. And not new once, but constantly new. Constantly shifting, at least from the perspective of the world, like water or wind. It’s interesting, I think, to note that the two metaphors that Jesus uses are water and wind. Both of these things are some of the few physical objects that are, by their nature, constantly shifting, formless, hard to pin down. Always new, always different.

It is very easy for us to become like Nicodemus, in that the way we have always done things, ways that at least some of us find comfortable, find reassuring, hold such a draw for us that we might want to ignore the call to change, ignore the ever shifting wind. But we are called to see that, and embrace it, if we are able. New people come into our lives. New missions and needs arise in our communities. If we ignore them, ignore the fact that our lives are constantly changing day to day, we will miss our chance to see the kingdom of heaven.

Can we be more willing to perceive it? Can we, like Nicodemus, come to see a little bit of it, enough to stand up for what is right, as he does later in the Gospel? Can we become willing to participate, even if we don’t know what these changes mean? I think we can. It will be hard, challenging, but also, I think, rewarding.

Where will the wind lead us? Perhaps, together, we can find out.


Malcom Heath
homily for 2 Lent A 2014