Preached January 23 at St. Paul's Lutheran Churchm Rye Brook, N.Y.
My own encounter with Nicodemus goes back a long ways. I think it was about 1966 when I was 19 years old.
I was an airman with two stripes stationed in England, a member of a group of Americans who called ourselves the “Christian Vocation Group.” On Sunday evenings we brought worship services to vicarless Anglican churches. We took turns leading the hymns, reading the scriptures, leading the litanies, and preaching the message. One night in November it was my turn to preach.
I have to cringe a little at my teen-age presumption that I had something to say to a tiny congregation of mostly elderly women. But lack of experience didn’t stop me. Back then most of my sermons were Billy Graham imitations consisting of hoisting my bible and shouting, “The BIBLE says …”
That night I was preaching on Nicodemus’ encounter with Jesus as it is told in the King James Version.
“Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again. The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.”
Whatever that means.
My exegetical insights were limited at 19, but I knew enough to cover my ignorance by shouting.
Our group members were mostly Southern Baptists so we concluded each worship service in evangelical style: we extended an invitation to the elderly congregants to come forward and be “born again.” Most nights the ladies stared at us in polite silence and remained in their pews.
On this night however, a young man – possibly the son of one of the women – walked toward me with tears in his eyes and collapsed at my feet.
“You said just what was in my heart tonight,” he said.
I was dumbfounded. Something I had said had led someone to Christ? And, if so, what did I say? And how would I know to say it again?
I stood aside as the older members of our group surrounded the young man to tell him about Jesus. That was just as well because I really had nothing more to say to him.
But I confess all this because it is so typical of evangelical interpretations of what Jesus meant when he said, “You must be born again.”
In my brief flirtation with Southern Baptists I understood that being born again was my own responsibility. Jesus wasn’t going to do it for me. If I was going to spend eternity with Jesus I had to decide that on my own. If I didn’t profess my faith in Jesus I was lost for all time, and God would cast me into the eternal darkness.
That seems harsh but I have known many evangelicals who grieved that their spouses or siblings or children were not “born again” and would not be joining them in Heaven.
The thought of eternal darkness was also a terror for me. I sat through many an invitation at evangelical services, swells of “Just As I Am” in my ears, frozen in my pew, unable to rise to my feet to accept Jesus as my personal Savior. I couldn’t wrap my brain on what it would feel like to be saved. I saw others going forward, smiling through their tears, to profess their certainty they had been saved. But how did they really know? And would they feel the same way when the euphoria passed?
I wonder if Nicodemus felt the same confusion, the same uncertainty about what it would mean to follow Jesus?
Nicodemus is a prominent figure in John’s Gospel, but that is the only Gospel in which he appears. We know he is a Pharisee, an influential religious leader in the turbulent times in which he and Jesus lived.
Beyond that we don’t know very much about him. But one thing is clear whenever he makes an appearance: he loves Jesus very much. He has perceived that this charismatic teacher has much to say about the mysteries of God. He approaches Jesus with apparent shyness, perhaps even awe. We know that his love for Jesus continued to the end when he took custody of Jesus’ body after the Crucifixion.
In today’s reading Nicodemus comes to Jesus by night to have a secret dialogue with him.
In my drawing above I have pictured him as perplexed and confused by what Jesus is saying: “You must be born again.”
But Nicodemus may not have been confused at all. Theologian Charles Ellicott writes that “after the method of Rabbinic dialogue, [Nicodemus] presses the impossible meaning of the words in order to exclude it, and to draw forth the true meaning. ‘You cannot mean that a man is to enter the second time into his mother’s womb, and be born. What is it, then, that you do mean?’”
Jesus may have feigned surprise, perhaps ironically, that “a teacher of Israel” does not understand the concept of spiritual rebirth: “Art thou a master of Israel, and knowest not these things? Verily, verily, I say unto thee, We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen; and ye receive not our witness,” (KJV John 3:10–11.)
As we read about Nicodemus’ struggle to receive Jesus’ witness, it’s easy enough for us to conclude that it is Nicodemus’ responsibility to “get it.” Jesus is not going to do it for him. This is the interpretation of many evangelicals over the centuries: You must be born again. Your choice.
But look again at Jesus own interpretation:
“Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again. The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.”
Yes, we must be born again. But we are not in control of how or when that happens. Just as we cannot control where the wind blows, we are not in charge of when and how the Holy Spirit moves in our lives. It is the Spirit – grace, as we Lutherans say – that brings us to faith. It’s not up to us.
One of the instructors in the Diakonia classes I attended said she has a simple Lutheran answer when evangelicals ask her, “Have you found Jesus?”
“No,” she says, “Jesus has found me.”
This is most certainly true.
It is this powerful insight – salvation not by our own decision but through the Grace of the Holy Spirit – that I find most attractive about our Lutheran faith.
Carolyn Winfrey Gillette is a Presbyterian theologian know for writing new verses for well-known hymns to highlight different themes. She has written powerful hymns expressing God’s presence amid natural disasters such as the Haitian earthquake, in times of national grief, in times of national celebration, and throughout many holidays and highlights of the church year. Her hymns are available free of charge, with appropriate accreditation, to any congregation that is a member of a denomination that is a member of the National Council of Churches. Her website is https://www.carolynshymns.com/
Carolyn has written a wonderful hymn, “Nicodemus Sought Out Jesus,” that can be sung to the tune of “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing.”
I won’t attempt to sing it, but I will recite her beautiful lyrics that hold so much spiritual truth:
Nicodemus sought out Jesus at a lonely quite hour.
He said, “Teacher, God is with you! For in you we see God’s power.”
Jesus turned and gave an answer filled with challenge and with love,
“You can never see God’s kingdom till you’re born from heav’n above.”
“Born again!” said Nicodemus. “Is that something one can do?”
Jesus said, “Don’t be surprised now that you must be born anew.
And it’s not by your own doing: wind and spirit will blow free!
They are not for your controlling; trust in God for what will be.”
God, your spirit still surprises like an ever-changing wind,
Bringing life and love and justice where despair and death have been.
May we see your Spirit working as a gift from heav’n above.
Blest, may we then be a blessing to this world that you so love.
Selah.
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