Nicodemus comes to him because he saw the signs, because he believes, because he wants something more, something only Jesus can give.
Seeking a grace beyond pessimism
Lent 2A | John 3:1-17
I love this story about Nicodemus. And one of the reasons is that it has a bit of humor in the middle. Almost like a buddy comedy. One guy is talking about big picture stuff. And the other guy is like “Wait, how can anyone be born twice?” I can almost picture Nicodemus using his hands to figure out how to crawl back in.
It is funny because the place Nicodemus goes in his mind is absurd.
Now don’t you dare tell me you haven’t done this. You hear something you don’t quite understand and your mind goes literal. And you go “That doesn’t make sense?” This happens with my kids all the time. They mishear something and they’re just trying to get it.
So the question for us should not be about defending Nicodemus or insulting him or any of that. We’re all Nicodemus sometimes. The question is why he would take Jesus so literally here. And I think it is less a misunderstanding and more an expression of his theology.
Jesus is talking about being re-born and Nicodemus is like, Nah, I’m thinking its more of a “one life” deal.
And yet, he came to Jesus anyway. At night, so he’s not super-psyched to have other people see him talking to Jesus. But he comes to Jesus nonetheless. And he shows up with a different theology. But he comes because he’s entertaining a thought that I’m sure disturbs him.
Maybe I’m wrong.
But before we dive in, let’s see why Nicodemus is coming to him at all.
Chapter 2
Nicodemus comes up to Jesus and says
“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.”
How does he know about Jesus? And in particular “these signs.”
We’re only in chapter 3. And there are two basic stories in the previous chapter. The first is the Wedding at Cana and the second is often referred to as “The Cleansing of the Temple”.
What is curious about this, then is that Nicodemus has seen some things he thinks are signs.
Think about it. At the wedding, Jesus famously turns water into wine. But not actually famously. The only ones who knew about this miracle were the disciples and the servants. It was a big deal for only a small group of people.
The far more notorious moment, however, is his running around the Temple with a whip. At the end of that story the author writes:
“When he was in Jerusalem during the Passover festival, many believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone.”
—John 2:23-25
So apparently the people were seeing signs in Jesus and Jesus was seeing into their hearts.
Born from Above
Something about this, and it isn’t really clear what, but something drives Nicodemus to meet Jesus. Against the judgment of his colleagues. In their culture, Jesus is his peer. And yet he’s thinking There’s something truly god-like about this guy. He recognizes that Jesus is genuinely different.
So Nicodemus goes searching as someone who already knows. And this is why Jesus’s response to this is both biting and illuminating:
“Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?”
It sounds condescending, but I don’t think it is. Because Nicodemus is trying to have it all: knowing everything and needing to learn; being respected as the authority and respecting authority himself; seeing God in Jesus and…
So in this way, he comes to Jesus as a master figuring out how to be a student. And he’s afraid. Afraid he’ll be laughed at, tossed aside, perhaps even fired. He’s not supposed to ask for help. But here he is, doing just that! Fool! Must have failed upward, his friends might say. If they could see him. But here they are, in the dark.
But I really don’t think it plays that way. I think it plays like Nicodemus is smart. He knows; he just can’t admit he knows. Like the Pharisees confronting Jesus at the Temple. Admitting the truth might be admitting weakness. So instead they pretend and say nothing.
I feel the longing inside Nicodemus, and the restraint.
Love/Hate
But what flips the story is the monologue:
“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,”
David Lose reminds us that the Greek word we translate as “world” is Kosmos; a word used throughout the rest of John as an “entity that is hostile to God”.
So try reading it this way:
“For God so loved the God-hating world, that he gave his only Son…” and “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn even this world that despises God but instead so that the world that rejects God might still be saved through him.”
God is saving a world that hates them. A world that would kill their only son. That’s what God is about. Redeeming everything; even what we believe shouldn’t be redeemed.
With God, there is no unforgivable sin. Period.
Jesus isn’t being critical or mean or reactionary. He’s trying to help a stubborn know-it-all see that God’s grace isn’t selective. It isn’t for winners and not losers. Or for the leaders and not the followers. God’s love and hope and grace are for us all.
And when we have that, we have nothing, absolutely nothing to hide.
We might be Nicodemuses; know-it-all seekers; leaders looking for a leader; dreamers scared to dream alone, but we can be assured with far-greater certainty that God loves us. No matter what. We can turn around from anything and be forgiven.
That’s how we’re children of God. Because we know true forgiveness, we can be fonts of perpetual, uncommon, grace-filled forgiveness and mercy. We can repair the breach and heal the world. Day and night. Everyday heroes full of grace and love.