I preached this sermon at Trinity Lutheran Church in Connellsville, on John 3:1-17, the assigned gospel reading for the second Sunday in Lent.
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I’ve been thinking about birth lately. Daniel’s cousin just
had her little boy on Friday, and the wait continues for my niece to be born
down in Florida, for the Connors’ goat Foxy to have her babies, and for poor
April the giraffe, whose waiting has been broadcast over a live video feed.
Probably when we think about birth, we think about babies.
That’s what Nicodemus was thinking about, anyway, when he goes to see Jesus in
the middle of the night. That’s why he’s so confused when Jesus says, “Very
truly, I tell you, no one can see the dominion of God without being born from
above.” Part of the trick is in the original Greek – the word used for “born
from above” can also mean “born again” or “born anew.”
Poor Nicodemus goes for the literal meaning and is left
incredulous and scratching his head as he says, “How can anyone be born after
having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be
born?” No, of course not.
But birth happens in other ways, too. It happens when
someone addicted to drugs or alcohol gets clean and sober. It happens when our
identity changes in some way and we learn a new way of being – as a spouse, or
a retired person, or a parent, or an empty-nester, or a survivor.
Birth happens when we decide to release our past hurts and
disappointments and live into a new attitude and perspective. And it happens in
baptism, when we die to sin and rise to new life with Christ, born of water and
the Spirit.
Through the waters of baptism we are born into God’s family.
We receive salvation, and forgiveness, and new life – bestowed on us because of
God’s love, mercy, and grace. We are not defined by who we used to be, or by
who we could be. Not defined by our failure, or by our success. Instead, we
find our identity, our birthright, in the God who calls us beloved children.
Birth – both the kind with babies and the other kinds – is
exciting, and also messy, painful, and full of waiting.
Birth is something that happens to us – not something we do
for ourselves or on our own. In the case of being “born from above”, it is God
who labors to bring us to new life. It is God who waits with us, nourishes us,
and then, when it is time, pushes us out, squalling and red-faced, into the
world.
So what new birth is taking place in your life? Where is it
that you see signs of the Spirit’s work, like the sound of the trees rustling
with the presence of the wind? Where is it that you find messiness and pain and
extreme joy all rolled up together?
It’s not always easy to spot. For Nicodemus, it seems that
he left disappointed, just as in the dark as when he arrived. But even if he
didn’t understand how someone might be born again, or born from above, that
Spirit who blows where she chooses continued to work in him.
We run into Nicodemus twice more in John’s Gospel. In
chapter seven, he tentatively defends Jesus, encouraging the other Pharisees
who want Jesus arrested not to condemn him without a fair hearing. And then, in
chapter nineteen, it is Nicodemus who joins Joseph of Arimathea in lugging
pounds of ointment and spices to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body for burial.
We don’t hear about Nicodemus’ reaction to Jesus’
resurrection. Don’t hear if, confronted with the shocking news that the man he
saw die, the man he helped prepare for burial, is actually alive, Nicodemus
again asks, “How can these things be?”
But we are reminded that God is at work in and among us even
when we don’t understand or notice. We are reminded that God loved the world –
the whole world – so much that God came among us in the person of Jesus in
order that we might not die, but live. Born of water and the Spirit, we are claimed
as children of God and brought to new life – a life of love, service, wonder,
sharing, relationship, and thanksgiving. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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