Fresh News from a Familiar Text
The Second Sunday in Lent Church of the Good Shepherd
Text: John 3:1-16
The Rev. Dr. Ross M. Wright
Some passages of Scripture are difficult, not because they are confusing, but because we know them so well – or think we do. John 3 is just such a passage. The term, “born again Christian” has become part of our religious vocabulary – a password for admission in certain circles. A banner with “John 3:16” has become a normal part of the background at football games. It is hard to approach this text without thinking that we already know what is says before we read it. Maybe if there were a ban on all reading and preaching of John 3 for 50 years, it could be heard again with fresh ears.
But there is another approach, and that is to acknowledge the mystery which surrounds this text. We simply do not know what it means to be “born from above” (the Greek word can mean either “again” or “from above”). It remains a great mystery to us. When the phrase, “born again” is reduced to a particular type of conversion experience, we turn Jesus’ words into something which we can measure. But Jesus is describing a reality which is beyond us and beyond the measure of human understanding. So our task this morning is not to demystify what is obscure but to re-mystify the passage – that is, to recover the mystery and a proper sense of awe before the text.
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.
What kind of person is Nicodemus? We might call him a “leading churchman.” He knows the Scriptures well. And he takes his faith seriously – he is devoted to keeping God’s law. Jesus’ teaching and miracles have made an impression on him – to the point that he seeks out Jesus for a conversation. The fact that he comes at night is an intriguing detail. Doe he come under the cloak of darkness in order not to be seen? Possibly. John’s Gospel was written to a community of Jewish believers who had been thrown out of the synagogue because they confessed Jesus as the Messiah.[1] They would have been acutely aware that Nicodemus is going out on a limb here.
In his opening gambit, Nicodemus is quite deferential to Jesus. He addresses him with respect as “Rabbi,” thereby acknowledging his teaching authority. His statement contains an implicit question: Teacher, what do you have to say about the nature of salvation?[2] How does a person enter the kingdom of God?
Jesus responds abruptly, without even acknowledging the compliment:
“Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.”
Nicodemus is mystified. Jesus is describing something which is not only biologically impossible but quite literally inconceivable. What can this possibly mean? What begins to emerge in this conversation is that a genuine encounter with the living God is not something that Nicodemus can manage, the way he manages other areas of his life. Knowledge of God is not like human knowledge. Human knowledge gives us measure of control. You master a discipline. We map out the solar system or the complexities of the brain. Knowledge of God, on the other hand, never permits us to master or control him. The more we know of God, the greater the mystery.
“What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit.”
“Flesh” in John’s Gospel does not mean simply “the body.” It is shorthand for everything about our existence that is confusing and contradictory – like the fact that we do the things we do not want to do and do not do the good things that we want to do. It explains why we often feel an inexplicable homesickness, why we are sometimes unaccountably sad, even though we have everything we need in the way of material comforts. “Spirit” is authentic human existence. Spirit is genuine encounter with the living God. And we cannot control such an encounter any more than we can control the wind.
So we stand before a great mystery – the possibility meeting God personally and the realization that this is reality is beyond us, that is out of our control.
And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.
The expression “lifted up” has two meanings. The primary meaning is “to exalt.” Jesus is now exalted and stands at the right hand of the Father. But Jesus is also referring to Good Friday, when he would be lifted up on the cross. And here we stand before the deepest mystery of all: Jesus’ crucifixion, which is so repulsive and painful to contemplate, is also his glory. Jesus’ cross is the gate of glory – for him and for the world. When he was lifted up on the cross, he reconciled the world to God. He is lifted up still whenever people recognize the cross as his glory.
I want to re-express Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus in a modern idiom, drawing on Walker Percy’s essay, “The Message in the Bottle.”[3]
Imagine a castaway who finds himself washed ashore on an unknown island. He has no memory of how he got there or where he came from. The islanders are a friendly lot, so they take him in and introduce to island life. Because he is a resourceful fellow, he quickly masters life and lore on the island – he becomes educated, takes up a trade, builds a house – in short, becomes thoroughly settled.
In his free time, he takes walks along the shore, and one day, finds a message in a bottle. Before long, more and more bottles wash ashore. Most of the messages are relevant to life on the island, for example: There is an abundance of fresh water nearby; or Invaders are coming! But occasionally, they contain news about life on another shore. These evoke a deep sense of homesickness in the castaway and a desire to discover his identity. They constitute the news which he had been waiting for all along without knowing it. Something had been missing for him on the island, even though he could not articulate exactly what it was. News from the other shore speaks to that longing.
We are castaways, living on “this fragile earth, our island home.” [4] If we listen, we can hear in this familiar text from John’s Gospel news from another shore. It speaks to us of the mystery of our existence. It explains why we are sometimes unaccountably sad or suddenly feel a stab of pain which is something like homesickness. This island has been visited by one from another shore, and he invites us to enter the new world of the spirit:
“Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ 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.”
God awakens us to his Spirit in his way and in his time. We cannot manage this reality any more than we managed our birth into this world. Our part is to believe. Faith is hearing and believing the word of God. Sometimes, faith is easy – like falling in love. Other times, faith is a huge struggle – like giving birth. Faith which leads to eternal life sees in the cross of Christ the gate of glory – for the Son of God and for us. By faith, we discover who we are, whose we are, and where we are headed.
