February 17, 2008

J.W. McNeill

Imagine the thinking of Nicodemus before he goes to talk to Jesus. I imagine Nicodemus talking to himself something like this:

I cannot figure this fellow Jesus out. What is going on here? He does not make any sense! If I had not seen him with my own eyes and heard him with my own ears, I would not believe he could possibly exist. If I only heard reports about him I would simply would dismiss them as the ravings of the sinful rabble who have their hopes set on miraculous deliverance instead of steady, righteous, disciplined living, according to the law and the prophets.

Perhaps even if I alone had seen him and heard him I would not believe my own eyes and ears. I understand that sometimes people are wildly mistaken. I know that people can be caught up in some kind of a fever or a fit of some sort and see and hear what is not really there, what does not exist, or they can imagine that a dream has really occurred.

But it is not just I who have seen and heard him. We all have. All of the teachers of the law have seen him and heard him. All of us. We have listened to him teach. We have argued with him and he is able to twist our words and confuse our minds and leave us with nothing to say.

As he toys with our questions and our objections the common people laugh at us and how we are unable to make our case in his presence. It is as though our wits abandon us when he speaks.

It is becoming increasingly difficult for us to maintain our position of respect and dignity. If Jesus goes about teaching much longer we will not be able to keep our place of honor.

And not only is he able to speak eloquently and find the weak places in our teaching, he heals the sick and he casts out demons. People come to him or people are brought to him and he lays his hand on them or he looks into their eyes or he raises his voice in their presence and then it is amazing.

A dementing demon takes flight out of a person and he is restored to his right mind. A woman who is lame regains her strength. A child who is scorched with fever is now able to run and play. These are signs of God’s power. What else can they be? We are all agreed. No one can do these things apart from the presence of God.

And yet it is impossible that he comes in the presence of God!

He does not strictly keep the sabbath. He does not do the proper washing. He keeps table fellowship with those who are unclean: tax-collectors, lepers, women and men of ill repute. We must often keep our distance from him because he gets so close to them!

He has even blessed sinners with forgiveness! What presumption. What arrogance and impudence. Is that not blasphemy of some sort?

One of our teachers has said that this Jesus is not a man. He is the wind. He stirs up the dust and conjures a cloud that obscures the truth. He is the wind who blows the dust in your eyes and whistles in your ears so that you can no longer see or hear straight. This so-called prophet and healer is like the wind which blows a calm day into a hail storm and a peaceful night into frightening hours of worry for your roof and your crops.

And yet. And yet… I must go visit with him. I must test the truth of the signs. I will go and discern whether the presence of God is in him. I will go and see if this man and these signs are of God. I will show respect. If I accuse him or corner him or show contempt for him, he will hang back from me. But if I honor him, perhaps he will relax and I will catch him in some contradiction or foolishness. And if the presence of God is with him, best that I show respect.

I will go by night. We mustn’t let the people think that I go to him for counsel or advice or some special teaching. No. This will take place without the notice of the crowd. And I will engage him with sincerity. I will draw him out to understand what is going on here. Apart from the questions of all the others, I must know.

Such were perhaps the thoughts of Nicodemus as he goes to encounter Jesus by night. He is unable to make sense of the evidence thus far. Jesus is a troubling figure. He seems at once of God and the Devil. How can this be?

And so Nicodemus encounters Jesus and tests the proposition that Jesus must dwell in the presence of God.

Yet Jesus tells him that if anyone is to see or enter the Kingdom of God, that one must be born from above, which is the same words in Greek as also mean born again.

And, of course, this puzzles Nicodemus because he cannot understand how it is that someone who has already been born once can be born a second time.

But Jesus insists that one must begin again in the power of the Spirit, the power of the wind, which blows where it wishes. Though we hear the sound of it, we do not know where it comes from or where it is going. And we cannot deny its power.

Now imagine the thinking of Nicodemus as he reflects on his encounter with Jesus. I imagine Nicodemus talking to himself something like this:

That teacher who spoke of Jesus as being the wind spoke more truth than he knew.

Something more powerful than we imagine is at work here. This is something that we cannot control and that encompasses us, not something that we can wrap our arms around and use for our purposes.

This talk of being born from above must mean that we are to start over from a new direction. What we thought we understood is to be blown away and new understandings are to take place.

This Jesus tells us that we are to give up and start over. Our wisdom cannot make sense of the heavenly reality that Jesus is here to reveal.

I had thought that this meant condemnation, that I was being judged for not understanding, but instead it was an invitation to discover that the salvation that we have read about in the Scriptures and preached and lived was not what we had thought.

It is not possible for me to achieve it any more than it is possible to achieve birth. It is a power that is beyond me. A power that is imparted by the wind that blows where it will quite apart from my comprehension or my efforts.

I cannot understand it. He just asks me to believe in him. Believe in this power of the wind. Trust in this gale he tells me is God’s love. I just don’t know. And if I don’t know, how can I believe?

Perhaps these were some of the thoughts that haunted Nicodemus as he pondered his encounter with Jesus.

Earlier this month there were some catastrophic tornadoes. Arkansas, Tennessee. Many people were killed. Lots of property damage. Lives were turned upside down.

Wind can do a lot of damage. People in Ark and Ten were warned that these tornadoes of wind were on their way and many had a chance to take refuge and were able to find safety.

In some ways that can be an image for how we might protect ourselves from the disruptive activity of the Holy Spirit in our lives.

Nicodemus thought of heaven and earth as an orderly system of rules of behavior that God would have us follow. If we follow the rules we are rewarded. If we do not follow the rules we will be punished. Of course, God can be merciful, but one cannot count on that.

God’s function in the system is to give the laws and stand behind them in judgment to enforce them. The job of Nicodemus and his colleagues is to clarify these rules and encourage obedience to them.

What is important is that the eternal and heavenly rules are followed on earth. Following the rules fits one for heaven. There’s a certain clarity and logic to this idea. And there is even some truth to it, I dare say.

But it is not the fundamental reality. Even if we add the notion that somehow Jesus saves us even if we haven’t done such a good job following the rules, this still does not get at the basis of God’s invitation.

A life centered on the rules forgets that the rules are not the point of the game.

Imagine a group of children playing kickball in the backyard. We might understand the point of the game to be having fun together. The rules help guide the game so that the game keeps moving forward in a coherent, meaningful way.

Now imagine that after a while there gets to be a dispute about someone’s play. The activity now may shift from kickball to a heated argument about the rules, who broke the rules, who followed the rules, who broke the rules last time, who always cheats when no one is looking, and so on. What finally happens is that the players lose interest in the game, they might play a little while longer, but the mood has soured and the point of having fun together has been lost. Once the focus turns to the rules, the air is out of the balloon.

Once the rules become the main focus, the point of the game is lost.

I wonder sometimes whether there is a danger of becoming trapped in thinking that the rules and following the rules is the main point that God is interested in.

I believe that God is interested in the rules. But not because of the rules themselves. God is interested in the rules because God cares about protecting the play of the game, so to speak.

The play of the game in our life together in this world is the integrity and quality of the relationships we are building together.

It may be important to call attention to the rules and whether they are being followed or broken, but that is in service to building the quality and integrity of the relationships, not the rules themselves.

The danger is always that we will come to focus on the rules for exclusion and self-righteousness. We will use what we take to be our obedience to the rules as the framework for judging and excluding others.

The danger is that we will come to see our obedience to the rules or even our faith in God as a kind of achievement that we have attained so that we have wound up saving ourselves.

That isn’t the way that Jesus invites us to see it. Jesus invites us to understand that God is working in us and through us in powerful and unpredictable ways.

The Spirit is trying to stir us up, blow us around, to recognize that we are not the authors of our lives, but God is.

The reality is that the rules get broken. But then what?

We may try to hunker down and limit our horizons to just trying to stay out of trouble, keep up with religious ritual, and take shelter from the wind that would blow us deeper into the steadfast love of God, but that isn’t God’s plan for us. God has bigger things in mind, I believe.

We may remain enmeshed in habits of life that shelter us in what we take to be safety.

How to open up?

Worship. Here is a good place to be.

Reflect. Take time to wonder.

Pray. Open your heart to seek God’s next step.

Serve. Open your heart to your neighbor.

Relate. Open your heart to those closest to you.

Pray with thanksgiving. It’s all a gift.

Keep your eyes open to beauty. Clue to God’s presence.

When we’re open, the wind of God’s spirit can blow into us and sail us into the peace and joy of love.

No judgment. No condemnation. An invitation to abide in God’s love.

It’s all a gift that God wants to give us.

Perhaps Nicodemus and his friends have correctly identified the troubling characteristic of Jesus: he stirs things up. The Spirit blows into our lives, minds, hearts, and we are invited into new dimensions of love and forgiveness.

To those who are dedicated to the old life, the life of the powers of this world, no doubt Jesus seems to simply stir up the dust and conjures a cloud that obscures the truth and who blows dust in our eyes and whistles in our ears so that we can no longer see or hear straight. It may seem that Jesus is like the wind which blows a calm day into a hail storm or a peaceful night into frightening hours of worry for your roof and your crops.

But we believe and trust something different: that the Spirit is blowing to gather us into a new community of mercy, compassion, and forgiveness. A community of hope that trusts in the abundant grace of God at work in each of us and among all of us to be a transforming and invigorating presence here and now and forever.

We can close ourselves up and hunker down believing that we can let it blow over. But my guess is that the wind of the Holy Spirit is going to keep after us.

Thanks be to God. Amen.