Lent 2 (2/17/08) “A Man Called Nicodemus”

John 3.16—certainly one of the most memorized, and one of the most familiar, of all verses in the New Testament. Today we heard it in its context, as the summary after Jesus’ fascinating encounter with a man named Nicodemus. He wasn’t one of the twelve disciples; we hear about him only in John’s gospel. Especially here in chapter 2, he seems confused, a little arrogant, a very faulty man. And yet his whole story provides a striking view of what it means to be a Christian disciple. I’d like you to spend some time with me this morning looking at the story of Nicodemus, to see what we can learn.

Who is this guy, who comes to Jesus “by night” and tries to talk with him? John tells us first that he is a Pharisee. The Pharisees, you may recall, were a middle class party of Jewish lay people, devoted to and very skilled in interpreting the Jewish law. So Nicodemus is an educated man, better educated perhaps than most of his people. He is, in that sense, like most of us—literate, able to think, to reason, conscientious.

John also says he is a “ruler of the Jews,” which means he is part of the Sanhedrin. That was the primary Jewish civic organization in that day, perhaps like the Chamber of Commerce or the Rotary Club today. So he is an influential person in his community. When he speaks, people listen, and they respect his opinion.

John introduces Nicodemus in a strange way. Right at the end of chapter 2, just before today’s lesson, John has told us that Jesus is in Jerusalem for the Passover, and that many people were believing in him. But Jesus, John tells us, “did not entrust himself to anyone . . . for he himself knew what was in everyone.” And then he introduces Nicodemus—apparently an example of those who believed in Jesus, but whom Jesus did not trust because he knew what was in them! Let’s see how this develops!

John says Nicodemus comes to Jesus by night and says, “Rabbi, we know you are a teacher from God; otherwise you couldn’t do these things.” He seems to be on the right track, doesn’t he?—he seems to get it about Jesus.

But actually, quite the contrary! Nearly everything here is wrong—his whole approach to Jesus is wrong, from start to finish. It begins with how he approaches Jesus. “He came to Jesus by night,” John says. By night. Why would he do that? Well, simply because Jesus is a bit of a controversial character. Nicodemus is a respected man in the community. He can’t afford to have his reputation ruined if Jesus should turn out to be a troublemaker of some kind. He is afraid, perhaps, of the whispers that might make their way around Jerusalem: “Nicodemus? Oh, he’s the one who goes to talk to Jesus. He’s gotten a little soft in his old age, hasn’t he? What a pity! He was a good man until he got so wrapped up in religion!” That’s what they might be saying. So Nicodemus comes by night, when no one can see him. It is safer that way.

And then how does he address Jesus? “Rabbi,” he says, “we know that you are a teacher come from God.” Now remember, Nicodemus is a member of the Sanhedrin. That’s a great thing he’s offering Jesus, isn’t it—a seal of approval! “We know that you’re OK, Jesus. We’ve talked it over. We’ve decided to let you go ahead and preach.” His whole approach, you see, is one of presumption—as if Jesus had any need for his approval, for his endorsement!

Notice, too, the use of the plural. We know. Normally when people approach Jesus in the gospels, they use “I” sentences: “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” But Nicodemus is not one to commit himself. He hides behind the “we.”

And then there’s that word “teacher.” Jesus is, of course, often called a teacher in the New Testament. Teacher, rabbi, the words are the same, words of respect. But it’s a long step from seeing Jesus as a teacher to seeing him as the Savior. It’s a step Nicodemus hasn’t taken; for him, Jesus is just a wise man, a fellow with some interesting ideas.

Of course we see that a lot today, don’t we? There are plenty of people who see Jesus as a good man, a good teacher. Perhaps they are interested to hear what he has to say. But of course Jesus is more than a teacher; he is the Savior. He is the one of whom are passage will later say that “God sent his only Son.” He’s not one teacher among many, but the only Son of God. He’s not one to believe, but one to believe in. He’s not one to listen to, but one to follow, to obey.

Now have a look at how Jesus responds. One would have thought it would have been exciting for a young rabbi to have someone as important as Nicodemus come to him with such kind words. But we don’t hear a single bit of that from Jesus. Nicodemus says, with great flattery, “Rabbi, we know you are a teacher sent from God.” Jesus replies, “Truly I say to you, you must be born from above.” What does that say to Nicodemus? Absolutely nothing!—and absolutely everything! Nicodemus is a bit thrown off his guard, I think—but that is what he needs! He has come to acknowledge Jesus as a teacher, but Jesus essentially signals to him that he’s asking the wrong questions, looking for the wrong thing. He doesn’t need a teacher; he needs a Savior. “You must be born from above.” You must, Nicodemus, give up all your knowledge, all your wisdom, all your status and prestige. You must change your whole life, take on a new life, one from above. Your foolish questions, your night-time visit, your search for safety and protection, must simply be given up. You must find yourself a Savior, not a teacher. If you come to me, Nicodemus, come looking for a Savior.

Of course poor Nicodemus doesn’t get it, not for a minute. You’ve got to have some sympathy for the poor guy, who just can stammer, “How can these things be?” And then to hear Jesus respond: “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you don’t get it?” If nothing else, I’ll bet Nicodemus is especially glad he has come to Jesus by night!

But of course what Jesus says to him is just what needs to be said. He doesn’t get it. He isn’t looking for the right thing. Sometimes you have to be stopped short in your tracks before you can turn around and go the right way. Or, to put it in Lutheran terms, you always have to hear the accusation of the law before you can open your heart to the gospel. Nicodemus, to all the world, looks like a wise man, a devout man. But he hasn’t yet understood: he doesn’t need a teacher, but a Savior. He needs to Son of God, sent not into the world to condemn the world but to save the world, and to save even Nicodemus.

Do you know what happened to Nicodemus? John leaves him there, confused, perhaps a little resentful, perhaps offended that Jesus doesn’t seem to be impressed with him. We do not see him again, except for two glimpses. The first comes in the middle of the gospel, when Jesus has become quite notorious. The Sanhedrin wants to arrest Jesus, to get rid of him. Nicodemus, still not able to commit himself, still not able to say anything about his strange encounter with Jesus so many months ago, finally says, “Wait a minute. Does our law judge a man without first giving him a fair hearing?” Poor Nicodemus! Another inadequate, uncommitted remark. John says that the others on the Sanhedrin mocked him. “What, Nicodemus, you believe in the Galilean too? You ought to know that Jesus is a fraud.” And Nicodemus says nothing further. He just fades back into the woodwork.

But then there is the cross. The end, the time when even the disciples of Jesus left him, denied him, betrayed him. The time when it was most dangerous to admit that you had anything to do with the traitor who was being executed. And Nicodemus, the one who had come by night, was among those few who had the courage to tend to the body of the crucified Lord. And it was no longer night. For Nicodemus, who had struggled so long, who wanted so much, to believe, to follow, but who could not—who could not because of what his friends would say, because of what he had to lose—Nicodemus became the one who finally proved by his actions that his only concern was Jesus Christ, his Savior.