Nothing good happens in the middle of the night. The phone rings at 3:45am, and ninety nine times out of a hundred it is bad news. Something has gone wrong. Someone is in trouble. Somebody is desperate. Or lost. Or alone. Or afraid. Count on it.
On the other hand, sometimes babies are born in the middle of the night and the news is too good to keep until the sun rises hours later. Breakthroughs are made by those burning the midnight oil. Love is found, hearts are mended, peace is waged, and journeys begun in the small hours of the night.
Are you a morning person? Leaping out of bed at the first slivers of light on the horizon, ready to embrace the possibilities that lie before you? Certain as the noonday sun, unfolding like a flower under the life-giving rays of light, grabbing the gusto of each bright moment, living where there are few shadows and fewer doubts? Are you a person of tasks to accomplish and lists to complete, going and doing and connecting and relating? Is this you? God bless you and have at it. Or...
Are you a night person? Ready to ponder the meaning of existence under the influence of the stars, writing deep thoughts while the moon waxes and wanes? Does the darkness inspire the poet in you, or the wee hours raise questions you have to pursue despite the wagging finger of the clock hand ticking away precious seconds when you should be sleeping? Join the club. There are thoughts to think in the middle of the night.
Of course it is nonsense to believe it has to be an either/or. No one is summed up so simply, no one is defined so completely in one or the other. No one fits in simple categories, do they? Of course not. Well, then, neither does Nicodemus.
Who? You know. That guy in the Gospel of John, who just shows up and doesn’t have the decency to wear an identification badge. So, we don’t know whether he is a good guy or a bad guy, or worse, a guy who can’t decide. Those twilight people (not “Twilight” - not talking Team Edward here), neither one thing or the other. Wishy-washy: that was the worst thing Lucy could think of to call Charlie Brown. Pick a side Nicodemus, will ya? Or did he?
John 3:1-17 Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. 2 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." 3 Jesus answered him, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above." 4 Nicodemus said to him, "How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?" 5 Jesus answered, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. 6 What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. 7 Do not be astonished that I said to you, 'You must be born from above.' 8 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." 9 Nicodemus said to him, "How can these things be?" 10 Jesus answered him, "Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things? 11 "Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. 12 If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? 13 No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. 14 And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, 15 that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. 16 "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. 17 "Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
It was the coming at night thing that got him into trouble. Was he ashamed to be seen talking to Jesus? Was he afraid of what his companions would say? He was a leader of the Jews, John says. Probably in the Sanhedrin, the governing body of Israel, not priests or rabbis necessarily, but also not divorced from religious issues. The whole church/state divide was not a issue for them. They were God’s people so to govern was to care for souls as well as bodies, to run the state was to be concerned about the purity of the faith and about obedience to God.
So maybe it was a junket, a fact finding mission that politicians are always taking. Maybe he was sent by the Committee with Oversight on Delusional Messiahs to check into this Jesus thing. Or maybe that was just the time of day he functioned best. So, after clocking out and telling his secretary that he was done for the day and picking up his briefcase and checking his email he headed out. Glancing at the clock tower over the statehouse he realized that it was too late for supper at home, his wife had already gone to bed. So, he headed to his favorite diner that was open late for something that would upset his already churning stomach. His favorite waitress was still on duty and brought him his usual without even having to ask. When she came back to fill his water glass and plunk down the pink antacids he lived on, she said “That Jesus guy is in town.”
He sighed when he heard that, and debated pretending he didn’t. It sounded like work, going to check him out. He thought about ignoring the tip and making his lonely way home. But sitting on a subway at this time of night didn’t appeal to him either, so before he talked himself out of it he said “Where?” She told him what she heard and how some of the other girls were going to see what he was all about in the morning. And that she was thinking maybe she would go too. Just to see, she shrugged, knowing that her best customer wouldn’t like it very much. He gave his usual generous tip anyway and shambled out into the night. He headed toward his subway stop, but then just keeps walking. Heading toward the edge of town, he finds himself hoping. What he can’t decide is if he hopes he is there or he isn’t.
He works on his approach as he walks. Butter him up, he thinks, start with a joke maybe. “I’m Nicodemus, I’m from the government and I’m here to help!” That’s always good for a laugh, to break the ice. But no, he decides, flattery, that gets them off their guard and I can perhaps find out what his story is. Flattery with a touch of “we’re watching you,” that’ll get him. “We know you are a teacher who has come from God...” Yeah, that’ll get him.
Well, it didn’t. Jesus took control of the conversation from the start, answering questions he didn’t think to ask, tripping him up with metaphor and image, and then boldly claiming who he was, reminding us all that we are in the Gospel of John, no Messianic Secret here, that’s for sure. Even a cursory read of the Gospel makes it feel like Jesus is trying to pick a fight. And Nicodemus is on the ropes throughout this whole conversation. “Can one enter into the mother’s womb and be born a second time?” “How can these things be?” His head is spinning, he is lost in the rhetoric, in the commands, in his inability to grasp deeper truths. Even Jesus wonders at his ignorance. “Are you a teacher and you don’t get it?” How should he respond to that?
He doesn’t get a chance. Jesus bull rushes on, trampling over whatever thoughts he might have had and plunks down what is probably the most remembered verse in the whole New Testament. And Nicodemus’ world was turned upside down, or right side up. And he was never the same again. He appears two more times in the Gospel and both times it is to stand up for Jesus, it is to take his side, regardless of the tide of opinion.
It is All Saints Sunday this weekend. Which is a time for remembering that all of us, any of us have mixed motives at best. We aren’t called saints, those we remember aren’t called saints because they did everything right and always had the right reasons and the right intentions. If that is how we remember those who have gone before, then our memories are fuzzy at best. No, what makes us and them saints is that they were loved, by us, yes, but more importantly, by the one who came that we might have life, by the one who invites us into eternity. What makes them and us saints is that we came with questions, maybe the wrong questions, but we came and we heard and maybe, by the grace of God we learned. And we tried to love like he loved. Night and day.
Shalom,
Derek
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