Born Again
Poor Nicodemus. That was my first first thought when I read this text in preparation for today. Poor poor Nicodemus. This man took the time to seek out Jesus, calls him “rabbi,” and acknowledges that he must be sent by God because of all the incredible things he has done. He humbles himself by going to Jesus. As a Pharisee, Nicodemus could easily get away with claiming that he was a spiritual expert and that he has all the answers. But instead he goes to this homeless, itinerant preacher, and calls him “rabbi.” Isn’t this what Christ asks of us? To go to him, follow his ways? See him as our teacher? Jesus should have welcomed Nicodemus with open arms!
But what does he do instead? He starts uttering total nonsense! Here comes Nicodemus, Poor Nicodemus, who didn’t know what he was getting himself into, admitting that Jesus is of God and submitting himself to Christ’s teaching, and there goes Jesus, talking about being born from above like it’s completely clear what that means. And when Nicodemus comes back and says he doesn’t understand, asks Jesus to clarify what this means, Jesus spits out even more riddles, talking about “what’s flesh is flesh and what’s spirit is spirit,” and how those who are born of the spirit are like the wind which blows where it chooses. And when Nicodemus, Poor Nicodemus, still doesn’t understand, Jesus seems to snap back at him.
Suddenly, he goes from teaching Nicodemus in riddles to jabbing at him, talking about how he’s supposed to be a teacher of the people but he doesn’t understand the spiritual truths that Jesus is handing him, and that no matter how many times Jesus explains it, Nicodemus just won’t seem to get it. And then, just when you thought he might have had enough, Jesus starts right back up with more cryptic teachings, this time about having descended from heaven and needing to be lifted up and eternal life and on and on…
Perhaps I read it this way because I can certainly relate to Nicodemus. I read this and thought back to years of staying after school, desperately trying to understand not the way to eternal life, but the mysteries of algebra and geometry that elude me to this day. Years of asking for a better explanation and getting only repeated lines about angles and formulas to no avail. Years of teachers trying valiantly to remain patient and explain it just one more time. I read this passage knowing that not everyone learns the same, and giving Nicodemus the benefit of the doubt seemed the least I could do. Part of me wanted to believe that Nicodemus’s lack of understanding is due to Jesus just being a bad teacher who inundates his students with mystic sayings until they’re in over their heads and struggling to keep up. That would certainly make me feel better when I’m having a difficult time with a text.
While some of this may be true, I don't think that this explanation for why Nicodemus remains confused really holds up. In fact, I think that Nicodemus fully understands what Jesus is trying to tell him, and is really playing the fool. And I think Jesus knows it, too. Nicodemus is a Pharisee. We are told that he is a leader of his people, presumably with some power and influence in society. He was respected, a legal expert to whom people looked for guidance and discernment. He doesn’t strike me as the foolish type. So then why doesn’t he seem to understand what Jesus is trying to get across to him? The short answer is, because it’s hard.
We know that Nicodemus has been keeping an eye on Jesus for a little while at this point. He has heard Jesus referred to as the King of Israel, the Lamb of God, the one who takes away our sins. He has seen Jesus turn water into wine and drive the money changers out of the Temple with a whip of cords. He knew full well that he was talking to Jesus, who was said to baptize the world with fire and overturn the established political and economic order. Jesus, who called his disciples by name and asked them to leave behind their work and join his cause. Maybe Nicodemus resonated with this Jesus. Maybe he got excited and passionate and as soon as he heard Jesus was going to be around, he dropped everything to go meet him, even if it was the middle of the night.
Maybe he got all the way there before he realized — this was going to be a lot of work. He had allowed Jesus to carry him to the edge, but when it came time to hear Jesus’ call, to put into action all of the values that we uplift as the ethic of Jesus, suddenly it became too real. He thinks about losing his power, his influence, his livelihood. And so he clams up. He does nothing. “Your responsibility is to instruct Israel in matters of faith, but you do not comprehend the necessity of life in the Spirit?” Jesus asks incredulously. Jesus knows Nicodemus is no fool. And Nicodemus returns to life as normal.
How often do we fall into this same habit? Do we, like Nicodemus, encounter truths that bring us to the edge of something greater, that carry us up the mountain, only to stop short, frozen with dread at what might be waiting for us on the other side? Do we make conscious choices to ignore transformative truths because we don’t want to hear them? I think of the scientists employed by Exxon who knew as early as 1977 that climate change was real, and that it would have devastating effects on the future of the planet. For more than forty years, fossil fuel corporations have known that their business is killing the planet. They have been staring, eyes wide open at these truths, unwilling to take a step forward and risk precious profits for the sake of the planet. I think of lawmakers in Tennessee, Texas, Ohio, Kansas, Florida, and numerous other states who have passed laws banning transgender minors from accessing the healthcare they need in order to live healthily and authentically. Lawmakers who heard truths from doctors, parents, and transgender children crying out, bringing warnings about the incredible harm these bans cause to young people and families across the state. Lawmakers who took these cries in stride and voted to condemn children.
As followers of Christ, we are no strangers to being at the edge. We hear Jesus’ call into a new way of being. We hear Christ’s summons, beckoning us towards total dependence on God, towards a recognition of the interconnectedness of creation, towards the kingdom of God in which the poor are filled and the privileged are brought low. But it’s easy to get discouraged. We allow recessions, constant war, local and federal police violence, and fear mongering to shut us up. It can become difficult to see how any talk of change can lead to anything but disappointment when nothing seems to get better. It’s ok to struggle. It’s ok to wrestle. Lucky for us, we’re Methodists, which means we believe in Prevenient Grace, which means that God will keep guiding us towards the edge, even when it feels hopeless.
We have work to do. Exciting, awe-inspiring work that leads to a New City, a new way of existing in relationship with the rest of creation, an entire world restored. Work that calls us to act in ways that disrupt our lives, our communities, our institutions. Work that can certainly be intimidating. But it is this work that brings us hope, leads us into the light, and will bring about God’s reign on Earth. God leads us to the edge of something new, something life-giving, and leaves it to us to decide. Do we follow the call, or act like we never heard it in the first place? Amen.