Trinity Sunday (sermon text)
Scriptures: Isaiah 6:1-8, Psalm 29, Romans 8:12-17, John 3:1-17
Faith in the Light of Day
In none of the Gospels are the Pharisees presented in a positive light. They interrogate and argue with John the Baptizer; they debate with Jesus, and try to discredit and entrap him. Pharisees in the Gospels seem to be obsessed with showing that they understand God better than anyone else, by focusing on laws and their own righteousness; because of this, they’re unwilling to listen when Jesus presents and lives out the self-giving love of the Great Commandment, to love God first and with everything, and love our neighbors as ourselves. When Jesus heals and performs miracles on the Sabbath, for instance, the Pharisees shout “blasphemy,” seemingly blind to both the action of God and the transformed life of their healed neighbor.
To use a contemporary phrase, I think that they’ve missed their calling.
This negative, biblical model of Pharisee doesn’t want to be closest to God. They want to seem closest to God, and they cultivate an image of themselves for the world to see. This involves control, not just of themselves, but of others; they are the authorities, and heaven help anyone who would risk tarnishing their image, and breaking their veneer of control.
Yet, just as Jesus works miracles of healing through forgiveness of sin, God breaks into human hearts to shatter our expectations, to tear down walls that divide us from those whom we would call “the other,” to turn us from sin and toward our neighbor, to see God at work in them. To call us into the holy work of being God’s people, shining God’s light, and revealing God’s love to a world so in need.
And if we are tempted to ever see the Pharisees as unlovable, the Gospel of John is here to remind us that “unlovable” is a human concept, and that Christ came for the sake of the world that God created in love and loves still.
Today’s Gospel reading introduces us to Nicodemus: resident of Jerusalem, a Pharisee, and a member of the highest court of the Jewish people, the Sanhedrin. We’ll never know what was on his mind the night he went to visit Jesus. But a particular element of the scene stands out. It’s the dark of night. Nicodemus doesn’t want to be seen – at least, not for this first encounter with Jesus.
On the one hand, this might be because he’s a public leader, and questions would follow if he were seen visiting Jesus. His visit may mean that the authorities are afraid of Jesus because of his increasing popularity. Nicodemus’ words suggest that the authorities do understand that Jesus is performing miracles of God… but of course, if Jesus is simultaneously doing the work of God and also butting heads with the authorities, this is a huge PR problem for the authorities, who in theory are themselves justified to God.
That all may be on Nicodemus’ mind, and I can’t blame him for being aware of the risks he’s taking. After all, he’s got an image to maintain.
I also hear an earnestness in his questions to Jesus. It could also be that Nicodemus, a teacher of Israel, suspects that Jesus is the real thing. Nicodemus’ may be holding himself responsible for testing, vetting the upstart Rabbi. This was not without personal and professional risks.
We live on this side of the resurrection, in relative wealth and comfort, and it can be hard for us to remember that – even now – people long for a Messiah, the one sent to save God’s captive people. Living as subjects of the Roman Empire, even the Jewish leaders of Jesus’ time are not free to worship and lead as they would wish.
When Jesus talks about the “Kingdom of God,” it sounds vague to us, but to Nicodemus, these words would probably have brought to mind a world in which he and his fellow Jewish people would be free from Caesar and his governors, to worship the God of their ancestors as a united people.
And the first words he speaks offer our first insight into the character of Nicodemus: “Rabbi,” he says, “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.” With all of that in mind, I find it easier to relate to his confusion at Jesus’ mysterious statements. “‘How can these things be?” asks Nicodemus.
My hunch is this. Nicodemus is a smart person. He has influence. Yet for all his intelligence and connections, part of him is tempted to watch from the sidelines. He’s not sure that he, himself, has enough at stake in what Jesus is doing to be involved, so he’s not willing to stick his neck out, single himself out, even if Jesus is somehow doing the work of God.
However, Nicodemus is called. We don’t see a dramatic “call story,” like Isaiah’s in our first reading, but frankly, God calls us all. We are called. Nicodemus answered the call to meet Christ, and it changed his life forever.
This nighttime visit is only the first of three in the Gospel of John. In Chapter 7, in the light of day and to his fellow Pharisees, Nicodemus draws upon Jewish law to demand that Jesus be given the chance to defend himself. Finally, in Chapter 19, after Jesus is crucified, Nicodemus meets Joseph of Arimathea.
Together, Joseph and Nicodemus prepare Jesus’ dead body for burial, using about 75 pounds of expensive spices that Nicodemus brought. In the public eye, at what seems to be the end and even failure of Jesus’ ministry, Nicodemus is there, offering honor. Talk about a transformation. This is what Jesus does… day into night, fear into faithful witness, even in the face of all that troubles us.
We, in all our human fears and anxieties, are the ones God calls into the holy work of transforming the world. We join in the creative process that God began with creation, to explore and question, to prod and push, to fail and learn, grow and thrive. It is the way of Christ – through the example of his life and the real presence through the resurrection – that we must follow, guided by the power of the Holy Spirit.
We are objects of that work ourselves: as with Nicodemus, we come to Christ with so many excuses, yet hopeful. Like the Pharisees, perhaps we have an image to maintain. Like Nicodemus, perhaps we are fearful, and perhaps for all the right reasons.
On Trinity Sunday, of all Sundays, it is right and mete to remember that we live in the mystery of faith; that even the teachers have questions; that Christ calls one and all.
Christ is calling you. Through the walls we ourselves build, across the dark of night, in the public square, Christ is calling us, the people of St. Stephen’s. God help us to live out our calling faithfully, as witnesses to the living God.
-Pastor Will Bevins