Questions in the Night

Trinity Sunday; June 11, 2006

John 3:1-17

I like Nicodemus; he is one of the Bible’s modest, quiet heroes. Perhaps that is why I feel rather contrarian about the traditional attitudes toward him. For example, they say that he came to Jesus by night because he was afraid to be seen with Jesus. Well, that may be, but John doesn’t say why he came at night, only the fact that he came at night. How many of you have such demands of work and family, that if you wanted to have a serious conversation with me about religion, you would have to make it at night?

Perhaps Nicodemus was ashamed or afraid; at any rate, the Gospel of John is full of the motif of the contrast between darkness and light, so it’s not too surprising that this conversation happens at night. Jesus is the light, even in the darkness of night, and Nicodemus comes to that light. I was tempted to call this sermon “Nick at Night,” but decided that was too cute. As likeable a guy as Nicodemus is, we’re going to focus more on his questions than on his character.

Nicodemus does not even get to ask his first question; he opens with some pleasantries and even a statement of faith, after a fact. Nick is convinced that Jesus is a prophet sent from God, and takes as evidence the signs that Jesus has done. So he starts out complimenting Jesus, probably to get him ready for his first question. But Jesus takes control of the conversation, and tells Nick that the only way to see the kingdom of God is to be born from above (NRSV).

Time out for reflection. We have here a word in the text that simply cannot be translated into English, and there is no way for a preacher to do justice to the text without talking about it. The word is “anothen,” so what Jesus says is, “No one can see the kingdom of God without being born anothen.” It means two things in our language, exactly equal and neither dominating over the other. It means “from above” and it means “again.” So Jesus tells Nicodemus that to see the kingdom of God, we must be born from above and we must be born again.

Which immediately conjures all sorts of images in our heads that need to be washed away. It conjures the image of a revival meeting, a rhetorically gifted preacher telling people that they after they die they will burn in hell unless they are born again. It conjures the image of a powerful political force in America, the cadre of “born-again Christians,” who exert enormous influence in Congress and the Administration. And then there is the tongue-in-cheek use of it in an old advertising campaign by one of our sister denominations, “The Episcopal Church welcomes you, regardless of race, color, national origin or the number of times you’ve been born.”

Jesus says we must be born again and from above to see the kingdom of God. Let’s talk about what that might mean. Next Sunday’s sermon will reflect further on the kingdom of God; it is clear that in the mind of Jesus the kingdom of God is not something that starts after you die. The kingdom of God is a living, present reality; do you see it? Do you see it within you, within the people around you, actively at work in the world?

What happens in the world can generally be explained by natural processes and human activity; it takes the eyes of faith to see the hand of God at work. For example: twenty years ago the Marcos dictatorship collapsed and democracy was restored to the Philippines. Now, we all know that that nation’s history since then has been difficult and they have yet to build a prosperous, stable society. Still, the fall of Marcos was a hopeful time, it has opened possibilities and did indeed restore democracy. A variety of forces brought him down: lack of support in the military, the organization of the Catholic Church, and public unrest over the assassination of Benigno Aquino. In a sermon, I recalled the nuns praying in the road, preventing the government’s assaults on people, and said that we could see the kingdom of God at work in the fall of the Marcos dictatorship. I was criticized for that, because clearly Marcos’ fall was not a miracle, since the forces behind it could all be described. Well, yes; but the presence of the kingdom of God is not merely revealed by miracle, but is seen by the eyes of faith.

The fall of the Iron Curtain is another event in our lives that can be completely explained without recourse to miracles. Yet I am convinced that it was the work of the kingdom of God. I hope you can see it, too. The only way to see the kingdom of God – to know that God is present in the world – is to be born anothen, to be born again, to be born by the activity of heaven.

So Nicodemus – his agenda by now all shot to pieces – asks the question, “How in the world am I supposed to make that happen?” Well, that’s not exactly what he says; he says, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Here’s another time I want to sympathize with him; folks scorn him as a literalist for thinking Jesus meant that we were to crawl into our mothers’ wombs and start over again. The man isn’t stupid. Maybe he is simply teasing Jesus a bit; his question may be a more sophisticated way of saying, “Yeah, right” or, if you’re from a different generation, “As if.”

The structure of the question does reveal something significant, however: the assumption that being born anothen is something he can make happen. What do I do? I can’t crawl into my mother’s womb and start over. What do I do? Do I join the right political party? What do I do? Start following you around, Jesus? What do I do? Give a lot of money away? What do I do? Go to a personal coach and learn how to reinvent myself? What do I do?

“You don’t,” is Jesus’ answer. To be born anothen is the work of the Holy Spirit, and nobody controls the Holy Spirit. You do not bend the Holy Spirit to your will, any more than you decide when the East wind will blow. Jesus’ image of being born anothen is perfect; you did not decide when, where and how you would be born and you do not decide when, where and how you will be born anothen.

I wish I had better news than that. Isn’t a sermon supposed to tell you what you can do this week to feel better about your life? Or tell you what to do to be a better person? And yet Jesus’ answer to Nicodemus is not what Nick should do, but what Nick cannot do. No wonder his last question of Jesus is an exasperated, “How can these things be?” After all, he is a teacher of the law, a good and righteous man who teaches others how to be good and righteous men and women. And here Jesus offers a simple teaching that completely undoes everything for him: You must be born anothen and you cannot make it happen.

The crucial question: Is Jesus telling the truth? Please don’t simply roll over and say it must be so, since the Gospel of John claims Jesus said it. Think about it. Is it true that to see the kingdom of God you must be born anothen and that you cannot make it happen?

I believe it is true, for three reasons. First, the Bible is consistent in the witness that God messes in people’s lives and changes them; they don’t do it to themselves. God took Jacob the conniving cheat and made him the humble, faithful patriarch of Israel. God took Ruth the foreigner and by the influence of her mother-in-law made her the ancestress of the royal House of David. God made Amos the shepherd into one of the great prophets of Israel and made Shiphrah the midwife one of the heroes of the Exodus. For most of them – probably all of them – the metaphor of rebirth is an excellent image, because when God messes in your life and remakes you, it hurts. There is the warm security of the way things were, then the constraint and choking, and the whack and the wail of new breath. Throughout the Bible, men and women are born anothen and become something new in the hands of God, and where others see only political and economic and natural forces at work, they see the kingdom of God.

I believe Jesus is telling the truth also because my reason tells me that his statement is logical. By definition, the work of the kingdom of God will be invisible except by the eyes of faith; to gain such eyes must come by the remaking of the person. We can, of course, have some influence over that, since what we are is a combination of nature and nurture. We are not simply the result of our birthing, but also of our upbringing. To change as adults would, therefore, require a remake of both nature and nurture, a new birth and a new environment. As adults, we have some control over our circumstances, but no control over being reborn. To be reborn must be the work of God.

And I find that Jesus’ statement accords with experience. When people are reborn, it is usually not because they decide to be, but because of forces outside themselves, including the work of God. Here’s a story from William Barclay; he tells of an alcoholic who was persuaded to become a Christian and one of the things that happened was he gave up drinking. An acquaintance was teasing him about his new-found religion and the crazy things Christians believe; he said, “Surely you don’t believe that Jesus changed water into wine?” The young Christian said, “Well, I don’t know about that, but I do know that in my house, Jesus changed beer into furniture.”

By now I hope it is clear to you that being born anothen is not something that happens quickly. These characters in the Bible did not suddenly change; people I have known have not quickly been reborn. Rebirth is even a daily experience. People wake in the morning as though bursting again from the womb, starting life anew, seeing things with the eyes of faith that they had not seen the day before. Our life is a continual struggle through the spiritual birth canal, as God gives us new birth from above, opening our eyes of faith.

One wonders what else happened to Nicodemus; the last picture we have of him is helping Joseph of Arimathea with the body of Jesus, and spending an enormous amount of his own money to prepare Jesus’ body for burial (John 19:38-42). He was not done being reborn that Good Friday afternoon, not even if he was among those who saw Jesus after his Resurrection. God wasn’t through with him yet.

I am somewhat unsatisfied with this sermon; I feel I should end with some snappy advice or a strong exhortation to do something. I guess that is because I’m right there with Nicodemus: “How can these things be?” To which Jesus replies, “You mean you don’t understand?” Yes, we do understand. You and I are still being reborn, because God isn’t through with us yet, either.

God of heaven: yours is the heavenly womb of our new birth. Whether slowly or quickly, in your time give us eyes to see your kingdom, which has come to us in Jesus Christ. Amen.

Robert A. Keefer

Westminster Presbyterian Church

Clarinda, Iowa