The Second Sunday in Lent

What’s the purpose of what we’re doing right now? Specifically, what is the purpose of a sermon? Perhaps the most usual response to this question is, "To teach." Well, sermons may provide instruction, but teaching is not the main purpose of a sermon. The chief purpose of the sermon in the context of worship is to be an occasion for an experience, an occasion for an encounter with God, and to offer a choice, an opportunity to respond to God. Like the occasion and opportunity Jesus offered Nicodemus.

Nicodemus was a man of reputation and learning, a man who had accumulated much of what the world has to offer. He was a pharisee and a member of the Sanhedrin, the ruling council of the Jews. He was, in the context of our own day, a U. S. Senator and a Dean of the Harvard Divinity School rolled into one, a man respected by everyone on the cocktail circuit because of his efforts on behalf of stable government and respectable religion. As a pharisee, Nicodemus had lots of answers to life’s questions, the answers of both church and state, and they had gotten him to where he was when we meet him today.

Well Jesus, too, was a rabbi, a teacher like Nicodemus, so one night Nicodemus goes to see this teacher everyone was talking about. We are not told why. When he gets there, he stays back in a corner at first, just listening. But after a while Jesus asks if anyone has anything to share, and Nicodemus says, "Rabbi, we know you are a teacher sent from God. No one could perform these signs of yours unless God were with him." And Jesus replies, "I tell you the truth, unless a man is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." And Nicodemus asks, "How can a man be born when he is old?"

Now it’s this question that leads people to different opinions about Nicodemus. Some say that Nicodemus, a scholar of establishment religion and a man of reason and tradition who was known not to care much for religious enthusiasm, for praise songs and hands in the air and all that, had become a real spiritual seeker in his mature years. He had heard about this itinerate preacher from West Texas who was causing such a stir in the land, and he decides to go see Jesus. But he decides to do it at night, under cover of darkness, because if his family, and certainly if his colleagues at the Divinity School, were to hear about it, they wouldn’t understand. These people say that’s why Nicodemus goes to see Jesus late at night; he’s seeking something fresh and new, and he wants to ask some questions that might not be understood at home and that certainly wouldn’t be well received in the Sanhedrin and in seminary faculty meetings.

Others say that Nicodemus was not seeking anything new at all. These say that Nicodemus was a man who liked clear answers to life’s questions, that he was well satisfied with what he already knew, and that he went to church that night to challenge Jesus on behalf of the establishment. They say he went to knock Jesus off his perch, to prove to himself and others that this radical preacher, who was getting so much attention these days, was out of line with all his talk about the coming of the kingdom of God, that he was a little whacky, perhaps ridiculous.

And these people say that, in his Gospel, John sets their meeting at night because that’s the world Jesus has come into, a darkened world, a world of evil and spiritually tired religion where the kingdom of God was no more than so much religious language. These people say that, in John’s Gospel, nighttime is the arena where stale answers to life’s questions, represented by Nicodemus, meet the freshness of the Spirit of God in Jesus, who has come as light to this darkened world, and that Nicodemus’ question, rather than being asked in a sincere search for fresh spiritual insight, is asked as a sarcastic challenge to Jesus: "How can man who is already grown be born? It’s absurd on the face of it, Jesus."

Tom Long says that Nicodemus "represents that arrogant, orderly part of us and our world [that is] coolly confident about human knowledge and cynically sure of what is possible and impossible." "We know...." Nicodemus says. "Now just between us, Jesus, teacher to teacher, we know, don’t we?" Nicodemus thereby brings to the table the self-assurance of the establishment scholar, says Long. He is the picture of confidence and sure knowledge, and he begins with a fixed knowledge of what can and cannot happen in the world of human experience. He opens the meeting with a smug attempt to set the ground rules for the conversation: "Let’s talk, Jesus, teacher to teacher." Right up front, he tries to make sure everything’s under control, that there’s nothing to lose. "We know [what the answers are and what is possible], don’t we Jesus, you and I, both teachers!"

But Jesus sets him back on his heels. "No," says Jesus, "you don’t know. No one can really know what’s possible with God unless he is born from above, born anew, born of the Spirit." And this knocks Nicodemus off his perch.

So Nicodemus asks his question: "How can a grown man be born?" And Jesus says that he's talking about a person's being remade all over, from top to bottom. (That's what the Greek word here means -- anothen -- to be remade all over, from top to bottom, head to toe, inside and out, so that you become a different person from the one you are now and you see God and the world and other people from a perspective entirely different from the one you have from your seat in the House of Bishops and the Harvard Club.) And with that Jesus knocks down the walls and moves outside the box Nicodemus had hoped to stay within.

And then Jesus goes on to tell Nicodemus and everyone else in the room that the wind, the Spirit, the breath of God, blows where it will. And he tells them about how God loves Nicodemus and the world so much that he sent his own Son to be lifted up on the Cross for the salvation of the world, just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert to save the people of Israel long ago, so that anyone, regardless of age or station in life, anyone who experiences the sacrificial love of God and puts his trust in him might be saved, even Nicodemus, because that's why God sent his Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but to save it. And you can tell by the look in Jesus' eye that Jesus wonders if he is making any headway at all with Nicodemus, and you can tell by the look in Nicodemus' eye that he's not at all sure just where all this is heading...

...and it doesn’t matter, finally, what tone of voice Nicodemus was asking his question with -- "How can a grown man be born?" -- because, whether he was asking it smugly as a challenge to Jesus or earnestly in hopes of some kind of answer that would change his life, either way Jesus’ question presents Nicodemus with a crisis, a choice that cannot be avoided, a challenge that demands that Nicodemus respond with something other than an academic answer. Because Jesus is leading Nicodemus to consider a question neither seminary nor Sanhedrin had ever prepared him for: "What do you want for the rest of your life, Nicodemus?"

Nicodemus had all the answers to the questions of life that spiritually tired religion could offer, but stale religion had no answer for the question: "What do you want for the rest of your life, Nicodemus?"

"You're one of the wisest men in Israel, one of our teachers," Jesus continues. "You’ve read the Bible, and you’re one of the children of Abraham. You know how the Spirit created everything in the beginning. You know that Abraham’s life was made brand new at age 75. You know these things, but you don't know how a grown man can be born? If new life happened to Abraham at age 75, don’t you believe it can happen to you as well? Don’t you believe that God can do for you, Nicodemus, what he did for Adam in his nonexistence and for Abraham in his old age?"

And Margaret Hess says that at this point you can just hear the rusty gears beginning to grind in Nicodemus’ mind: "Think about it, Nicodemus. If you are born again, then you must grow up again. Think about your life. What would you do differently if you had half a chance? How would you grow up differently? How would you reedit the narrative of your life? As you enter more deeply into your puzzlement, Nicodemus, you’ll find that Jesus is inviting you to be curious about your life and to rethink your assumptions with an altered perspective. You are challenged not only to conduct an autopsy of your life, but to look to the future through the eyes of redemptive possibility. How might your life be different if you were born again? How would your life be altered if you truly believed, from the beginning, that God loves you with a sacrificial love?

"Nicodemus, patron saint of the curious, we see you in the flickering lamplight, your face an arresting mixture of confusion and interest. Jesus waits, the silence broken only by the sound of the wind banging the shutter against the house. You tug at your beard and rethink your life, seeing your past and future through the eyes of the One who loves you. You are dizzy with the possibility of it all. And so are we. Born again? The mere thought of it sweeps through us and send us reeling. You mean to tell us that our lives might be different?"

"What would an autopsy of your life so far reveal?" What great questions Jesus asks in Margaret Hess’s hearing. "What assumptions have guided you all these years which you would discard, if only you could? How might your life be different if you were born again? How would your life be changed right now if you truly believed, from top to bottom, that God loves you, and that nothing, nothing at all, can take that love away from you? Tug at your beard, Nicodemus, and rethink your life, seeing not only your past, but also your future, through the eyes of the One who loves you. You’re 45 years old. How many more years of life as you’ve lived it so far do you want to live? How much more of a tired, trustless, riskless life do you want?"

Or as Emily Dickenson asks it:

And Nicodemus asks Jesus how to do it. "How do you get this fresh function, this spiritual overhaul from top to bottom you’re talking about, Jesus? How do you get this faith that makes life new and fresh and different?" And Jesus asks Nicodemus what he did to get born the first time. And Nicodemus says, "Well, I was just floating along, and then I just got pushed out." And Jesus says, "Right! Getting born into the kingdom of God, getting a spiritual overhaul from top to bottom, is sort of like that, like a wind, like a spirit that pushes you where it will." And Nicodemus says, "I don't understand." And Jesus says, "Now you're catching on."

And at this point we hear the wind bang the shutter against the house, and we realize that it’s not Nicodemus, but you and me, standing there that night with Jesus. Or rather, standing here this morning with Jesus. We come here on a Sunday morning hoping to get things tied down spiritually, hoping to find answers, hoping somehow to get God figured out and taught and explained and learned, so we can get on to our business-as-usual lives tomorrow morning.

"What do we have to do?" we ask, note pads at the ready. "What do we have to do to enter this kingdom of God? Is there a technique of some kind? Can we read a book about it? Are there workshops to attend?"

I remember summers growing up in Texas, before the days of air conditioning. I remember how in the evening, when all the work of the day was done, everyone would gather on the porch at my grandparents’ house and rock in the rocking chair, or swing gently in the porch swing and talk, in an attempt to escape the heat.

And the wind would rustle the leaves up in the trees, and the talk would stop, and everybody would fall silent and sit back and enjoy the breeze, the wonderful gift of the gentle breeze, the wind that blows where it will. Jesus says that’s what the Spirit is like.

Maybe that's what church is. Maybe that's what the Eucharist is, some time in the rocking chair on the porch, a sabbatical, a break from the heat, a time of waiting for the breeze, a time of waiting for the wind, a time of waiting for the Spirit to ask us, "What do you want for the rest of your life?"

You come here this morning, perhaps not really wanting to be here, and your heart is somewhere else. And your mind is somewhere else as well, chewing over some matter at work, working overtime in the heat of life's problems. But then, during the service, you hear the leaves begin to flutter and you feel the breeze. Perhaps it's one of the readings that does it, or the music or the prayers or silence or Holy Communion, or perhaps it's when someone offers you a kind word of welcome or encouragement, or when you offer a kind word to another, and you set your note pad aside and enjoy the breeze, and you wonder, "What was that?" Just the wind, just the refreshing breeze, and Nicodemus’ question is your question: How can a grown man be born? And through the breeze you hear a gentle voice telling you there’s nothing you have to do; it’s just a gift you’re being offered.

Call it all grace. The Scriptures, the music, the hymns, the prayers, the Body and Blood of Christ, Jesus, silence, an encouraging word offered or received. Whenever and wherever the breeze ripples through with the voice of a loving God, perhaps it's the Spirit's invitation for us to lay down all our projects and to accept and appreciate what is. Perhaps it's the Spirit's invitation for us to lay down all our spiritual programs, and to put aside all our spiritual posturing and all our religious agendas, so we can just enjoy the refreshing news that "God loves the world, and you and me, so much that he sent his only Son, so that anyone who trusts in him might have eternal life. For God sent his Son into the world not to condemn the world, but that, through him, the world might be saved." Perhaps it’s the Spirit’s invitation for us just to enjoy the refreshing news that we do not have to live the rest of our lives in the same old way we’ve lived them so far.

Why do we come here day after day, week after week? We come here to meet Jesus, who asks us what we want for the rest of our lives. Are you satisfied? Or do you hope for more, for something new and fresh and different?

Perhaps Huston Smith has boiled it down about as far as it can be boiled. A contemporary scholar of religion, Smith has spent his life studying the world's religions. Smith must be in his nineties now, and five or six years ago his textbook about the world’s great religions was revised and reprinted for the umpteenth time.

When his book was reprinted, a reporter went to see Smith the way Nicodemus went to see Jesus. The reporter asked Smith a question, a question to which he, like Nicodemus, expected a straightforward but tired answer. "Mr. Smith," he said, "you were reared a Methodist, and you've spent your whole life studying all the religions of the world. Which religion is the true one?" And Smith said, "Yes."

Flummoxed, the interviewer repeated his question. "Mr. Smith, you were reared a Methodist, and you've spent your life studying all the religions of the world. Is Jesus the answer? Are you a Christian?" And Smith replied, "What I've discovered in my life is this -- that we are in good hands and, in gratitude for that, we ought to bear one another's burdens."

How can a grown person be born? How do you get reborn from top to bottom? What do you have to do to enter the kingdom of God? We're in good hands. The Spirit blows where he will. God so loved the world....

How do you want to respond to that news for the rest of your life?

In the Name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.