John’s
Gospel begins with the primal symbols of darkness and light, and these are
interwoven into descriptions of the physical settings of Jesus’s ministry as
well as spiritual conditions. There is a difference between night and day, and
John’s Jesus insists that the reader, the hearer, the believer must choose.
There are no shades of grey in this test of discipleship or in this familiar
text from John 3. “This is the judgment: the light has come into the world, but
people preferred darkness to light because their deeds were evil.”
William
Temple wrote: “Don’t wait till you know the source of the wind before you let
it refresh you, or its destination before you spread sail to it. It offers what
you need; trust yourself to it.” Nicodemus comes to Jesus by night, perhaps so
that he won’t be seen by his highly critical Pharisee brothers, but perhaps
also in a state of intellectual or emotional obscurity. Cautious, concrete,
literal-minded, entrenched in his beliefs and practices, Nicodemus is genuinely
curious and humble in light of Jesus’ signs.
In
his encounters with people, Jesus finds the weak spot as the locus of
transformation. For Paul it is the mysterious “thorn” in his side. Paul begs
God to remove it, but hears instead in 2 Corinthians 12, “My grace is sufficient
for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” For Peter, it is his threefold
denial. After the Resurrection, Jesus will ask three times, “Do you love me?”
(John 21). For Nicodemus, it is his knowledge: “How can?” “But?” Jesus meets
the Pharisee’s literal-mindedness with a frustratingly wild metaphor. “The wind
blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where
it comes from or where it goes. So, it is with everyone who is born of the
Spirit.”
Nicodemus,
a respected leader and teacher, comes under the cover of darkness to ask the
hard question: “Is it possible that everything I know is wrong?” He clearly
recognizes the signs of God in Jesus; he knows wisdom when he hears it, but
that wisdom is making a fool of him. He’s an old teacher who is still hungry to
learn, but he doesn’t expect to be demoted to preschool. Jesus doesn’t make it
easy. He uses the one word for “birth,” anothen, that has two different
meanings: “born again” or “reborn” and “born from above.” Nicodemus goes for the
literal, turning the Spirit’s work into a laborious affair.
John’s
Jesus is a code talker, using symbolic language to distinguish between those
who are children of light and those who have chosen the shadowland. If we draw
back from this dramatic staging between this teacher of the law and the One who
is Wisdom, we can also hear the post-Easter community of John speaking to the
religious authorities who were colluding with Rome to ostracise converts to
Christianity. “I assure you that we speak about what we know and testify about
what we have seen, but you don’t receive our testimony.”
Leaders
like Nicodemus may be the spiritual guardians of the holy of holies, but they
resemble the Romans trying to guard an empty tomb. “God’s Spirit blows wherever
it wishes. You hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where
it is going. It’s the same with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” It seems
that Nicodemus doesn’t appreciates the lesson or the question. He simply slips
away into the night, disappears from the Gospel scene.
But
in the darkest moment for the followers of Jesus, Nicodemus shows up again. It
is Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea who anoint and wash Jesus’s body and
prepare it with spices for burial. It’s an intimate and courageous witness.
Near the Gospel’s end, Nicodemus steps out of the shadows into the public
square of Rome’s empire and choses the Light.
The
images of pilgrimage and the language of the Spirit’s new birth are linked in
these scriptural texts in the season of Lent. Both present the
reader/hearer/believer a choice. Do you trust the One who is the Way? Will you
begin a pilgrimage of faith, filled with assurance of the God who guards and
shelters? Have you been born by water and the Spirit?
Both
scripture passages offer the believer life filled with assurance and the power
of the Spirit. This theme of assurance connects this Lenten gospel and this
psalm. Fanny Crosby’s hymn “Blessed Assurance” would provide the musical
affirmation of faith in a trustworthy God and Jesus, the Christ. This is story
filled with assurance of the God who guards like a mother and shelters like a
father. This is the song of a child of God, an “heir of salvation” in and
through Christ. We are “born of his spirit” and this is our story and our song.
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