Nic at Night

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.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above” [John 3:1-3, a portion of the Gospel reading for Trinity Sunday, the First Sunday After Pentecost, RCL, Year B].

I suspect that if you asked ten Christians if they could recite John 3:16 without opening their Bible, nine would not only answer in the affirmative; they could actually do so. Ah, but how many would be able to tell you the subject matter of the fifteen verses that precede the Gospel writer’s familiar summary of the Christian faith? How many would say, “Of course, in John, chapter 3, we meet our old friend, Nicodemus.” For many of us, the juncture between John 3:16 and Nicodemus isn’t self-evident.

Most of us recall, for example, the wonderful double entendre that Jesus offers to Nicodemus: Is verse 3 to be translated as “born from above” (NRSV) or “born again” (NIV, NKJV)? My friends in our Carolina Arbors Bible Study will know that the answer is, “Yes.”

Fewer of us might recall the interesting point that John, the Gospel writer, makes as to the time of day that Nicodemus chooses for his visit to our Lord. Nic comes to Jesus “by night“ [3:2]. Scholars have spilt barrels of ink speculating on this detail. Many scholars allow that the Gospel writer often used the motif of light versus darkness. For example, later in the Fourth Gospel, Jesus warns that “those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them” [John 11:10]. Bad things happen at night. Judas slipped away from the Lord’s table at night, in order to bring about his sordid plan. Jesus was arrested in the Garden at night. Pontius Pilate held the mock trial at night. After the resurrection, the disciples discover that without Jesus, they can catch no fish at night [John 21:3]. You get the picture.

Others counter that it isn’t necessary to malign Nicodemus because of the hour of his visit—better late than never, right? Some have rationalized that it might have been quite common in those days for scholars like Nicodemus to study and write in the evening. Whatever his motive, it isn’t as if Nicodemus has a question about our Lord’s identity. Look carefully at verse 2. Nic comes to Jesus knowing who and what Jesus is: a rabbi (teacher) come from God [3:2]. How else could Jesus have performed his many “signs”?

It is in this sense of “knowing who Jesus is” that Nicodemus comes to represent so many of us. We may be so sure we know who Jesus is. We often come to Jesus—we search for Jesus—not to have our world turned upside down by his radical message, but rather to have our own worldview affirmed and ratified. Like Nicodemus, most of us are good people. We enjoy family and friends. We work hard. We study seriously, at least some of the time. We drop a twenty—maybe more—into the collection plate when we gather for worship with others like ourselves, and we serve on a church committee or two. What more could be expected? What else could Jesus have in mind for us?

Like Nicodemus, we come to Jesus, assured that our faith rests in our knowledge and regard for Him, and we discover instead that all along it is we who are first known and first loved by God. Like Nicodemus, we come looking for an affirmation that the world we want to tame is manageable, particularly if we just had a little help from Yahweh, and we find instead a mystery that is beyond our comprehension, beyond even our imagination. We presumptuously tell Jesus that we know who He is, and He responds, “Oh, do you now?”

Jesus responds in his customary fashion, not with a simple answer to our complex question, but yet again with one of his riddles or parables. He tells Nicodemus that while the latter is certain in his understanding of the Kingdom of God, he actually has no basis for his confident musings. Jesus offers Nic a marvelous play on words, telling Nic (and us):

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” [3:8].

We miss the pun in our English language, but “wind” and “Spirit” come from the same Greek word. Like Nicodemus, we come to Jesus to talk about some interesting systematic theology. And Jesus takes our suppositions, our confident analysis, our carefully crafted systematics, and tells us that we need to be born from above. And even more mysterious, even more magical than we can understand or even imagine, He tells us that such a renewal, such a rebirth, is possible.

Herman Melville opened his famous novel with the famous phrase, “Call me Ishmael.” Can we see that as we approach Jesus, perhaps we should say, “Call me Nicodemus.” We have so much in common with our first century friend. Like many of us, Nicodemus had more life in the rear view mirror than he thought he had ahead?

As a colleague has said, “Nicodemus is closer to the end than he is to the beginning.” He thinks Jesus is talking nonsense—how can someone so old be reborn? How can someone with little to look forward to encounter the Kingdom of God? It sounds so impossible.

Almost five years ago—I could be off by a few months—a close and dear friend received some really bad news. Later, he told me that as he sat in one of the Duke clinics, waiting for the definitive word, he knew what the doctor was going to say before he actually said it, “I’m sorry; your cancer is back.” My friend—let’s call him Nick—said his first reaction was, “Damn.”

Living near a major medical center like Duke, Nick has had some advantages. There is no better care available anywhere. And so, during this almost five year period of time, Nick has undergone several rounds of treatments and medications specially geared to his particular genotype. He’s had his ups and downs, but for the most part, since he was hit with “the news,” Nick has managed to live, and feel, and hope, and love those around him for much longer than he initially thought might be possible. And Nick has shared many conversations with our risen Lord.

You see, our friend, Nick, is a bit like Nicodemus, spoken about in John, chapter 3. Yet, there are differences as well. The world is telling Nick that life is in his rearview mirror, that during his successful professional life, he had a really good run, but that’s all behind him now. The world is telling him, like it tells the rest of us, that Nick is allotted only a measure of time here on this planet. The world tells him that for someone in his medical “predicament,” hope is impossible. After all, hope is distributed—so says the world—only to the strong, to the young, and to the fortunate. The same goes for strength and zeal. The world is so sure that newness of life can be lavished only on those in the neonatal nursery, that it laughs when it hears words like those offered by Jesus.

The world, after all, is afraid of Jesus. He isn’t predicable. He isn’t controllable. There is a wonderful wildness and mystery about Christ that the world doesn’t even want to understand. The world tells Nick that he cannot be cured. Jesus tells Nick that he will be healed—that is to say, that nothing, particularly cancer, can separate him from the love of God. The world tells Nick—and you and me—that in our final days, it can make us comfortable. Jesus, on the other hand, tells folks like Nick, and you and me, that in all these days, He will make us His own.

My heart swells when I see that Nick isn’t buying what the world has to sell. Nicodemus came to Jesus at night. Nick came to Jesus, not so much at night, as in the darkness of his diagnosis. Our friend, Nick, has also come to understand that long before he sought out Christ, Christ sought him out. Our friend has come to understand that life isn’t in the rearview mirror. Rather, Life is standing in front of us in the form of Jesus Christ, the risen Lord. It is Christ who commands the winds. It is Christ who mediates the Spirit. It is the same Christ who tells Nick, and you, and me that He isn’t done with us yet. Praise God from Whom all blessings flow!