I read an interview with the author George Saunders the other day. George Saunders has written a number of books but his most recent is entitled Vigil. In the interview George was asked this question, “One of the main characters of your book is on his deathbed, and he offers this prayer: ‘Thank you, Lord, thank you for making me who I was and not some little squirming powerless nincompoop. Thank you for making me unique, one of a kind, incomparable, victorious.’ …Tell me about that prayer,” the interviewer asked. And George Saunders said this, “From my perspective, it’s a moment of extreme delusion, where he’s getting exactly the wrong message from the moment he’s in. But from my own experience of being a person, you develop a certain approach to life to keep anxiety at bay, to solidify your view of yourself, to make it easier to get through life.”1 I was intrigued by this, for it is a Nicodemus moment. We all build up stories that we tell ourselves to avoid facing the truth of our own insecurities and doubts and concerns. We mask our true selves and even the true purposes of life, to cover over our faults, sins, errors, mistakes. And so, we chase after things like power and prestige and wealth, while the true centre of life is recognizable in the things God constantly invites us to pay attention to. Love, peace, compassion, holiness of thought and actions. We know that they are the real truths but somehow so many other things sneak in and nudge them from this central place in our lives and our living. Why is that?
George Saunders phrased it this way, “What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.” Failures of kindness.
And in our world of the moment, we seem to be seeing this being played out all the time. I know that I don’t need to tell you but kindness, decency, compassion, love of neighbour, faith in God’s grace, supporting one another, seeing the face of God in the stranger are so often being told to take a back seat. With the shootings in Tumbler Ridge still very much on our minds we are well aware that too many other things are pulling at our society trying to barge in and be seen as priorities. Power, control, wealth, strength, domination, even violence seem to be the words that are key right now.
And we people of faith… well we know very well that this is nonsense. At the heart of life is not out manoeuvring our neighbours but recognizing Jesus in the hungry and thirsty, deepening our love of God and love of neighbour. That’s what is at the heart of life. We know that, we come here today to be reminded of it once again. We break bread and share wine to acknowledge that what is at the heart of life is our relationship with God, which invites us deeper into purpose and meaning. And in this season of Lent is about repositioning ourselves, rethinking and reprioritizing what is at the soul of life.
I am convinced that all human beings are searching for intimacy with the holy, with mystery, with wonder, with deep peace. It is in us to search more deeply and more intently but it seems we often get distracted. We often seem to lose sight that God is not distant and hidden from our sight. God is not absent and long forgotten. God is not an old man in the sky unconnected or uninterested in this world. The incarnation, the birth of God into this world in the person of Jesus Christ, revealed God’s intimate and close connection to us and our lives…showing up right in the midst of us. Right in the midst of us.
In the gospel for today, Nicodemus came to Jesus in the cover of darkness. Nicodemus was a little like the character in George Saunders’ book. The one, even on his deathbed who was so glad that he was not like other people. Nicodemus was a leader in his faith community, an important man. He was learned and well respected. He was known in the right circles by the right people. By all accounts he had made it.
But something clearly was niggling at him. He knew there was something missing, or why would he have come to Jesus in the night? He was searching, looking for a deeper and more intimate connection with God. He had grown up with carefully planned-out definitions of God. He loved the categories his faith had created, who was in and who was out…all was precise, all was clear, all was known and accounted for. But… something was missing.
There were gaps in his hope in God, in his trust in God’s love and full presence. Maybe we have known this as well. And so he came to Jesus in the dark of night and said “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.” And Jesus plays with his intellect, and says: “No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus, though doesn’t get it. He wonders how on earth one can enter a second time into the mother’s womb. It does not make literal sense. Jesus tries again, “I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit.” We know this refers to baptism and the mark of our spiritual awakening and our attention to the light of God beckoning us out of the darkness in this world. We know that… Nicodemus, though, had come in the dark and was still in the dark unable to see the light even though he was standing right in front of it.
Where do you recognize the light in the darkness, hope instead of anxiety, God’s grace instead of harsh judgement? Where do you know about being born of water and the Spirit? For the new life that Jesus was talking about was not based on hardline definitions but on meeting God anew each day. Discovering God with us even while journeying through the dark night of the soul. Discovering God’s hope for us that seeps into every aspect of life and making us alive in the Spirit. Discovering God’s light in our darkness.
Virginia Stem Owens writes: “Just as your body grows gradually– and without your direction– inside your mother’s womb, your spirit must take shape within God’s spirit. When you are born into that kingdom, then you’re living God’s own life, breathing God’s own breath. It becomes your very heartbeat.” This is the new life that Jesus was talking about.
Nicodemus was not alone. There are many people who want a simple, organized, pat answer faith. Nicodemus could not seem to expand his thinking and think outside the box or be born of the Spirit or come to see the abiding presence of God in Jesus. Nicodemus couldn’t see it at that time.
Until… he came to see things differently. He had an epiphany. In John’s gospel, it is Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea who take Jesus’ body down from the cross and prepare it for burial. Something changed within him. He discovered the light of God in this world. He discovered God’s whisper to him to come closer, to draw nearer, to awaken to the spiritual cravings to know that indeed God is known in his very soul. He discovered what we too have discovered: a God of life, a God of living, a God who shows up, a God who blesses, transforms and changes. A God who loves no matter what. Nicodemus discovered what our world seems to be craving in this very time, as he gently laid that body in the tomb, that the darkness would never overcome God’s light and God’s hope. May we in our Lenten pilgrimage know this light in the darkness of our times.