Nic at Night
Scripture: John 3:1-17
Preacher: Rev. Beth Neel
Sermon
Today we are going to wade into those tricky waters of super-well-known Bible verses and how they might mean something different than is thought.
When something is written down in Greek two thousand years ago from an oral tradition, and no original documents exist; when people have to guess what was once written where there’s now a hole in the parchment or bad handwriting; when something gets translated from Greek into Latin into King James’ English into modern English; when these things happen, it’s hard to know what exactly John intended when he wrote his gospel. But we do have some clues.
One scholar says, “John’s historical situation was radically different from that of today’s community. John’s congregation was a minority community struggling to survive against the challenges of the world. John evidently thought that strong rhetoric was needed to help the congregation maintain its identity and witness.” (https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-in-lent/commentary-on-john-31-17-11)
John loved double entendres and pairings; this story of Nicodemus coming to Jesus at night is paired with the next story in chapter four of the Samaritan woman who meets Jesus at the well in broad daylight—insider/outsider, night/day, the teacher/the one who is taught.
John used certain words again and again, and those words had particular meanings in the context of his gospel; whether scholars agree on that meaning is unclear! For example, when John used the word “world” – like he did in John 1, “and the world did not know him,” or like he did here, “God so loved the world,” what did he mean? Did he mean the entire world and everyone it; or did he mean the world, the base, flawed world as opposed to heaven; or did he mean a very specific small world of the people in John’s community? Trust me when I say scholars don’t agree, and I’m not picking sides!
Maybe a little easier to decipher are some of John’s double entendres. The Greek word pneuma can be translated as “wind” or “spirit.” The word anothen can mean either “again” or “from above,” as being born again or being born from above. Or both. And this funny little word houtos, which is translated “so,” doesn’t mean, like very, like so good, but rather “in this way.” Throw into the mix the allusions to stories that Jesus grew up with, stories from the Hebrew Bible, and the teaching has more layers than a croissant.
So then, in John 3 we meet Nicodemus, a Pharisee, a man with power and prestige who is moved to risk his power and prestige to meet his Jewish brother, Jesus. And Nicodemus, being a Pharisee with his ear to the ground of all the gossip around the temple complex, may have heard how his Jewish brother Jesus got really mad in the temple, at all the money exchanging hands, at the way commerce was defiling the sanctity of the temple—so mad that he drove out the animals there awaiting sacrifice, and poured out the money-changers’ coins onto the floor, and then upturned all the tables. Nicodemus had heard the stories of Jesus’ anger and condemnation. Maybe his rational side told him to avoid this Jesus guy.
Or is something else was going on inside Nicodemus? Despite all the really good, sensible reasons not to talk to Jesus, he decides to do just that. He visits him at night, and just what are we to make of that? The traditional understanding is that Nicodemus is hiding; he moves stealthily in the shadows so that no one will see him visiting this outlaw rabbi. And that may be.
Or – in Judaism, “the rabbis had taught that the Torah was best studied at night when it was quiet and the distractions of the day had subsided.” (Patricia Farris, Christian Century, Jan. 30 – Feb. 6, 2002, p. 19) Nicodemus wants to learn from this rebel rabbi; Jesus becomes not only his teacher but also his Torah, to be studied at night when there would be no interruptions. Yet the gospel writer John is silent as to why this hour.
But why would Nicodemus risk the safety and comfort of his position as a Pharisee for the unknown journey of following Jesus? That’s the question, isn’t it.
Is Nicodemus curious or seeking? John, who loves pairings and double entendres, might say he is both. Whatever the motivation, he proceeds to have a conversation with Jesus that has had layer upon layer upon layer of interpretation over the centuries, to the point that the simple interpretation now offered for this text – “believe in Jesus and you’ll have eternal life” – is understood as gospel.
If indeed these teachings are best received when we aren’t distracted, we might understand why Nicodemus came at night. We might say that this teaching of Jesus is one more step that Nicodemus takes in his relationship with God.
He was raised in a Jewish home, was taught the stories of the Torah and the words of the prophets. He became a Pharisee, which meant he understood that his faith required observance of religious ceremonies, use of both written and oral interpretations of scripture, and that he believed in an afterlife and the coming of the Messiah. You might look at Nicodemus and think, Wow, there’s a guy who is as spiritually mature as a person can get.
Jesus says no, not really. Nicodemus must be born from above, born again. He has farther to go. And those words strike us straight in the heart. We too have farther to go. Maybe we’ll take another step. Maybe we’ll just park our behinds where they are and say, we’re just going to stay here for a good long while. I’m fine where I am, as I am.
The invitation to be born anew is an invitation to step further and deeper into our faith. It’s not something we have to do. It is something we get to do. And sometimes it’s easy and full of light and song. Sometimes it’s a slog and hard and heartbreaking. But let’s not think that these well known verses are a litmus test for worthiness in terms of our faithfulness. If we take everything we know about how John wrote his gospel, all the possibility of word meaning, maybe John 3:16 and 17 could read like this.
For our Creator loved us in this way: God offered the only begotten Son [like Abraham offered his son Isaac], so that everyone who believes in him may not be destroyed but may have perpetual life. Indeed, God did not send us the Son to judge us, but in order that we might be healed through him.
I don’t think this text is about who’s getting into heaven. I think it’s a word of encouragement to all of us who have taken two or two million steps on the journey of faith.
I love that this story takes place at night, in the darkness, because there is such a richness to the dark. When all of us were growing and forming in our mothers’ wombs, our mothers and we were doing essential work in the dark. We weren’t ready for the light. It wasn’t time. We had to get so big, our bones and muscles and organs needed to get fleshed out, before we made that impossible journey into life and light.
So it is with faith. Once we hit adulthood, our faith isn’t fully formed. We don’t have all our questions answered. If anything, doubt becomes more of a constant companion. And there is nothing wrong with not attaining spiritual perfection. If we think we have all the answers, it just shows how much further we have to go.
So take comfort in the story of Nicodemus, a religious official who still had much to learn about his God.
Maybe you aren’t sure about Jesus, and you would go to him at night, too. Maybe you think you have all the answers but need to hear Jesus say, You must be born anew before you can find out more, because there is more to find out. Maybe you get frustrated that you don’t have “enough” faith, whatever that means, and you malign your doubt. Maybe you don’t know how much God loves you, and in what way. To all of us I say this: none of us is there yet. None of us has all the answers; none of us has the only claim to Jesus; none of us has perfect faith.
And that is okay. We are making this faith journey together, and yes, sometimes we find that we are all an unknown wilderness and our faith-well is dry. We’re lost and we don’t know how to find our way home. Maybe we don’t think we’re good enough for God’s love.
But God has never loved us because we were worthy. God knows, more than we ourselves, that we are born beginners and spend a lifetime seeking our Creator. I love how author Timothy Gallwey puts it.
“When we plant a rose seed in the earth, we notice that it is small, but we do not criticize it as rootless and stemless. We treat it as a seed, giving it the water and nourishment required of a seed. When it first shoots up out of the earth, we don’t condemn it as immature and undeveloped; nor do we criticize the buds for not being open when they appear. We stand in wonder at the process taking place and give the plant the care it needs at each stage of development. The rose is a rose from the time it is a seed to the time it dies. Within it, at all times, it contains its whole potential; at each state, at each moment, it is perfectly all right as it is.” (The Inner Game of Tennis)
For God loves you in this way, as you are right now, seed or bud or full-blown flower; God loves you in this way, that God gave what is most precious, Jesus, to us, because when you love someone, you want to be with them, you want to walk with them, you want to heal them.
To the glory of God. Amen.