The Second Sunday in Lent A
February 17, 2008
John 3:1-17

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both….

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
~The Road Not Taken (1915)

I love this poem by Robert Frost. I can think of no more apt metaphor for life than a journey—an exciting journey, but one where we often feel like we have no road map, and the destination is unknown. Today’s readings pick up those themes—Abram and Nicodemus are both on journeys, quests of sorts. Both of them are venturing into the unknown, setting off without really knowing what they are getting into, taking as it were the road less traveled. We know what happened to Abram, but Nicodemus’ fate is more uncertain. Nonetheless, both Abram and Nicodemus can provide guidance for us on own journeys of life and faith.

There are many call stories in scripture but few are as simple and dramatic as that of Abram and Sarai.

The Lord said to Abram, "Go from your country … to the land that I will show you…
So Abram went, as the Lord had told him;

It must have been frightening and bewildering for Abram and Sarai, an aging and childless couple, to be asked to pick up and move, just like that to a new land, a promised land to be sure but still unknown. But acting with great faith Abram did it, apparently without question, taking his family along. It wasn’t always an easy journey, but in the end it all worked out. Abram and Sarai, now Abraham and Sarah settled into their new home and eventually became parents—parents of a new son and parents of a new nation—the people of Israel. They listened to God’s promises and God fulfilled them.

Abram’s story is a tale of simple and straightforward faith and action. Nicodemus’ story is more complicated. Nicodemus, too, is on a journey, albeit a more hidden one. As a Pharisee, one of the elite, he’s naturally suspicious of Jesus, frightened even. And yet, Nicodemus comes under the cover of night, out of darkness to find out more about this fellow Jesus.

Nicodemus’ motives aren’t immediately clear, and no doubt they were mixed. He addresses Jesus in a respectful but at the same time almost mocking manner, as “Rabbi”. “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." Jesus responds with what must seem like a riddle—no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above. Nicodemus, unwittingly or not, plays the straight guy—how can that be—must we reenter our mothers’ wombs? No, Jesus retorts, you must be born of water and the spirit.

Many commentators argue that the character of Nicodemus is no more than a foil for Jesus’ teaching. Of all the gospel writers, John is the master of double meanings, and Nicodemus’ story is replete with them. In a gospel where light represents the presence of God, Nicodemus comes out of the darkness, exemplifying those whose piety is hollow. When Jesus speaks of being born from above, Nicodemus fails to pick up on the ambiguity of the Greek word he used which connotes both “again” or “anew” and “from above”, instead taking the most literal meaning to heart. When he continues to question Jesus’ explanations, he provides an opportunity for Jesus to chastise those who fail to get the message. And then Nicodemus disappears from the story as Jesus goes on to proclaim the message of God’s love for the world.

Perhaps Nicodemus does provide a foil for Jesus’ teachings, and rich teachings they are, but I think there is more to his character than that. I think underneath his pharisaic identity there is a part of Nicodemus seeking answers for himself and his own journey of faith. Nicodemus shows up two more times in John’s gospel. When Jesus has been preaching and teaching and stirring up controversy during the Festival of the Booths, the chief priests and Pharisees want to have him arrested. Nicodemus speaks up to argue that the law does not judge people without first giving them a fair hearing to see what they are doing—an indicator perhaps, that some of Jesus’ teaching did get through to him?

And still later, after the crucifixion, it is Nicodemus who shows up to help Joseph of Arimathea prepare Jesus’ body and lay it in the tomb. Nicodemus comes with an overabundance of myrrh and other precious oils to anoint Jesus much as Mary of Bethany had anointed his feet earlier. Would someone who saw Jesus as just another rabble-rouser, a false prophet have done this? Or could this be another sign that Nicodemus who first came to Jesus out of the darkness had begun to move into the light, the light that Jesus brought into the world?

The stories of Abram and Nicodemus present us with two very different, even contrasting journeys of faith. On the one hand we have Abram who followed God’s call into the unknown, the road less traveled, apparently without question. And on the other hand we have Nicodemus, who skirted around the edges, didn’t seem to understand, didn’t drop everything to follow Jesus, but who nonetheless kept showing up, kept wondering. It would be easy to see Abram’s story as a model for how to respond to God and Nicodemus’ as a model of how NOT to do it, but I think it is more complicated than that.

I think both Abram and Nicodemus have something to offer us. In our journeys of faith in this complicated 21st century world we might sometimes find ourselves reacting more like Abram, ready to say yes, ready to go forward unquestioningly. But we might also find ourselves at other times feeling more like Nicodemus, wary, uncertain, unable or unwilling to get the message God is giving us, able to do no more than showing up on the fringes, at the border between darkness and light. But just as Jesus didn’t dismiss Nicodemus with his questions and skepticism, neither are we dismissed in our moments of doubt. Rather we, like Nicodemus, like all of creation, are loved by God, so loved that God’s son came into the world not to condemn us but to save us.

In our life’s journeys, in our journeys of faith we travel roads that are sometimes clear and straight and sometimes long and winding, with many forks and twists and turns. The stories of Abram and Nicodemus tell us, I think, reassure us that God’s love is with us no matter where we find ourselves or how we travel those paths. And for that, let us say,

Thanks be to God