Sermon by the Rt. Rev. A. Heath Light, Retired bishop of Southwestern Virginia on the occasion of the founding of the American Friends of the Episcopal Church of the Sudan
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Alexandria, Virginia
February 20, 2005
Note from the preacher: “The worship was led by the rector, Oran Warder. Bishop Eluzai Munda was the celebrant of the Eucharist. Fourteen Sudanese priests sat behind the altar. The lessons were read by Sudanese in their native languages of Nuer and Dinka (printed however in English in the bulletin), and I was the preacher, speaking in my native southern Virginia dialect. The context was quite powerful, since it was later supplemented by Sudanese dance as a part of the offertory. Though I most frequently prefer to begin a sermon with some reference to the reality of our corporate life in the world, the corporate life of the moment on February 20 was so obvious and palpable that I felt such an introduction was unnecessary. Therefore, after an expression of appreciation to Oran Warder and the congregation and simple reference to the conference on the Sudanese Church, I proceeded to preach on the Gospel text.”
Nicodemus was a “ruler of the Jews”, a Pharisee, a leader, a member of the power elite of the religious establishment of his day. He came to Jesus by night, apparently in the darkness. He asked a question and received the answer that he “must be born again”.
Now there was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. This man came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that your are a teacher come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do, unless God is with him.” Jesus answered him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?”
Getting born … even the first time … is not easy. It is a shock in many respects. It’s a movement in many respects, none of them easy:
from safety to vulnerability
from protection to risk
from quiet to noise
from union to separation
from darkness to light.
The process is filled with fragility and fear, frequently with pain.
Getting born the first time is not easy. And Nicodemus is told he must be born again. It is not only mind-boggling. It is a considerable threat. Small wonder that Nicodemus wondered how this could be.
Nicodemus came by night. Perhaps he came by night because of his social and religious position in the scheme of things. Perhaps he came by night because was a “ruler or because he was frightened for his respectability and community standing: or even because he may have known intuitively that something profound would be asked of him.
It was risky. He must have felt vulnerable and exposed.
Perhaps he came out of the darkness of his own empty spiritual life. Some of us may have found such an experience compatible with our Lenten spiritual disciplines, whatever they may be. But the point is that Nicodemus came searching; he came looking for a new life, without awareness of what that might entail. Nicodemus had a hunger of the heart.
I had a friend who was, by training, a lawyer. By vocation he was a bank trust officer. But in his heart he was a poet, an author, a spiritual pilgrim. Leighton Roper was a man with the gifts to go home occasionally after hearing me preach, and then call me later in the day. He would say: “I was looking at the Greek text of your sermon this morning and, appreciating what you said about it, I believe that what you translated as ……… may also be translated as ….” That was said with both humility and grace. But, if you think that would not put the fear of God in a preacher, then you would respond differently from the way I did. Yet we were deep friends!
He wrote a prayer which is framed and placed on our dining room wall. It reads:
You have satisfied hungers we know
And hungers we do not know.
Feed now our spirit
That we may know thanksgiving.
For hungry is the heart. Amen.
Nicodemus came to Jesus with a hunger of the heart. He came seeking … asking a question he could not articulate, and receiving an answer he could not comprehend.
How many of us seek answers in our heads which can only be comprehended in our hearts?
“You must be born again.”
No one knows precisely what happened after some period of time. No one knows what was going on internally in Nicodemus. No one knows about other secret actions, other private conversations, other evidences of courage, other risks, other pursuits leading to surprises.
What we do know is recorded in John 7:45-51:
Then the temple police went back to the chief priests and Pharisees, who asked them, “Why did you not arrest him?” The police answered, “Never has anyone spoken like this!” Then the Pharisees replied, “Surely you have not been deceived too, have you? Has any one of the authorities or of the Pharisees believed in him? But this crowd, which does not know the law – they are accursed.” Nicodemus, who had gone to Jesus before, and who was one of them, asked, “Our law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing, does it?”
His fragility became to be confronted positively. Nicodemus spoke up to the Chief Priests and Pharisees. It was another beginning.
I am a born-again Christian… Not in the hand-waving, lapel-grabbing kind. I am one who knows every day as new beginning. Of course it could be the good fortune of my endocrinal gland. My head says that. But my heart says that every day is a resurrection day of sin forgiven, a new life of grace and mercy, in starting again. That is being born again.
Now fast-forward to after the Crucifixion. Joseph of Arimathea comes to claim the body of Jesus, and place it in Joseph’s own tomb. And who was with him?
After these things, Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one because of his fear of the Jews, asked Pilate to let him take away the body of Jesus. Pilate gave him permission; so he came and removed his body. Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds.” (John 19: 38 – 39)
Nicodemus! Nicodemus came bearing expensive myrrh and aloes. Nicodemus came to assist in the burial. He put his money on the counter. He was not only visibly present. He paid a price.
Getting born the first time is not easy. How does one get born again?
Some years ago in a parish where I served there were two men. Each was old. Each was crippled. Both were loyal to Christ and to the Church. Friends or relatives would provide transportation. They would meet at the narthex of the church, on the street. One was blind … but moderately strong of body. The other had some sight, but was all but incapacitated by muscular deterioration (M. S. or Parkinson’s or something). They would meet at the church door. The one with some strength, but blind, would grasp the arm of the one who was extremely feeble. The one with physical strength would assist the one who was unable to stand alone. The one who had some eyesight would lead the one who was blind, as they came up the aisle toward the front pews.
They were, like all of us, cripples on their way to the resurrection. They combined their weakness and their strengths, placing themselves at the foot of the cross, within the reality of their darkness and impotence. Together they came toward the cross and the altar.
How does one get born again? I’m not sure. But some things are evident. It means:
that Jesus has caught our attention;
that in our own way we make our witness;
that we pay a price;
that we take our place in the midst of suffering and the crucifixion;
that we anticipate new life in the power of the resurrection.