A Sermon for Trinity Sunday
A Sermon for Trinity Sunday
St. John 3:1-17
by William Klock
Knock! Knock! Knock! Someone was at the door. Peter—or maybe it was John or James—got up to see who it was. It had been a long day. Everywhere Jesus went the crowds followed. Some were full of questions, but most of all they were full of problems. And they brought them all to Jesus. The blind, the deaf, the sick, the dying, the demon-possessed. This isn’t how the world is supposed to be, full of tears. Everyone knew it then. Everyone knows it now. And everyone then and now hoped for a day when somehow it will all be set to rights. And so the people flocked to Jesus, because wherever he went, there was a little pocket of the world as it should be, the world as God had made it, the world set to rights. Wherever Jesus went, there was a little pocket of God’s future brought into the present. A little pocket of the world where the tears are wiped away.
Knock! Knock! Knock! There it was again. They’d found a quiet place to spend the night away from the crowds, but someone had found it. Peter was getting himself ready to tell whoever-it-was to go away, so image his surprise when he opened the door and saw Nicodemus standing there. They’d never met, but everyone knew who Nicodemus was. He was a rich man, he was one of the leaders of the Pharisees, but more than that, he was a member of the Sanhedrin—the ruling council of the Jews. And here he was at the door of the house where Jesus was staying, standing there with a couple of his servants, politely asking to speak with the rabbi now that the crowds were gone.
Nicodemus had seen what Jesus was doing. Nicodemus had heard what Jesus was preaching. Nicodemus had watched from the edge of the crowds and listened in the temple court. In Jesus he saw the hopes of Israel being fulfilled. He saw that little pocket of God’s future following wherever Jesus went. He believed—he just wasn’t sure what exactly it was that he was believing. Have you ever had that happen? You see God at work. It’s obvious. But it’s not what you expected. So you believe, but you don’t really understand. That’s where Nicodemus was. He wasn’t one of the simple people who just needed some physical manifestation of the kingdom—like the blind and the deaf and the sick. He knew the scriptures. He knew how the God of Israel was supposed to fulfil his prophecies. And Jesus was fulfilling them, but not in the ways anyone expected. So the great theologian had come, not to be healed, but to ask how all this can be. “We know that you’re a teacher who’s come from God,” Nicodemus said to Jesus, “Nobody can do the signs that you’re doing, unless God is with him.”
You can hear the unspoken question implicit in Nicodemus’ affirmation. It’s the theologian’s equivalent of “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.” It was like this for everyone. The disciples saw, they heard, they believed, but whenever Jesus pressed them with questions, ninety per cent of the time they gave the wrong answer. Peter knew with certainty that Jesus was the Messiah, the son of the living God. But when push came to shove, he drew his sword and was ready to bring God’s kingdom with violence. Even the disciples were full of all the wrong ideas the Jews had about the Messiah and the coming of the kingdom. Nicodemus was in the same boat. It’s just that he knew he was missing something and here he was to get it sorted out. But Jesus doesn’t give him the answer he wanted, because even if Jesus explained it all, even if Jesus connected all the dots for Nicodemus, that’s wouldn’t solve the problem. Nicodemus would still need something more. And this is where Jesus answers his implicit question with those familiar words, “Let me tell you the solemn truth. Unless someone has been born from above, he won’t be able to see God’s kingdom.”
It wasn’t just Nicodemus struggling with all this. Think of all our Gospel lessons during Easter- and Ascensiontide, those lessons where Jesus tells his disciples that as good as it is for him to be with them, he’s going to have to leave so that something better can happen. And they don’t understand. They’re confused. If Jesus leaves, that little pocket of the kingdom that follows him wherever he goes, it will be gone with him. They didn’t understand either. They, too, had to be born from above in order to see—in order to be part of—the kingdom. In order to themselves become little pockets of God’s future in the present. And, of course, that’s what we saw last Sunday as we remembered Pentecost. The God of Israel sent his Spirit to indwell his people—they were born from above—and suddenly it all made sense and Peter preached that Pentecost sermon that would have been impossible for him to preach just the day before and from there they went out to make God’s kingdom known to the world.
This is, incidentally, why we have this story of Nicodemus’ visit to Jesus as our Gospel lesson today. Trinity Sunday didn’t come along until the high Middle Ages. Long before today was Trinity Sunday, it was the Sunday after Pentecost and today’s Gospel was assigned to explain the Pentecost events we read about last Sunday. When Trinity Sunday came along no one changed the lesson, because here we see the Trinity revealed in the exchange between Jesus and Nicodemus as the Son reveals that the Father must send the Spirit to create, to give life to a renewed people.
So Nicodemus knew the story. He knew the God of Israel. But he knew there was more to it. He knew the world is not as it should be and he knew that that the people of Israel were failing at what God had called them to be. And he knew the Lord’s promises to set the world and Israel to rights. He saw the Lord’s promises being fulfilled in Jesus and he’d heard Jesus talking about this new work, this new exodus, this new deliverance of the people—this exodus even greater than the one that defined them when the Lord delivered them from Pharaoh. And Jesus warned about a judgement soon to come on those who refused to repent of their old ways and to get in line with the Lord’s plans. It didn’t fit into the expectations of the people of Israel and especially not into what the Pharisees expected, but there had to be something to it, because the Lord was so clearly with Jesus.
Again, Jesus picks up on the question implied in Nicodemus’ statement. He says, “The central truth you’re missing, Nicodemus, is that you’ve got to be born from above to see the kingdom of God.” Nicodemus understood so much. If anyone wanted to see God’s will done and his kingdom come on earth as in heaven it was the Pharisees. That’s what they lived for. And Nicodemus saw it in Jesus, but he struggled to reconcile his expectations with what Jesus was saying. And Jesus says that what he’s missing—what all of Israel is missing—is this new birth, this being born from above, this being born again. And it’s important to understand that as much as Jesus is saying, “You, Nicodemus, must be born again—which is how the ears of modern Christians have been trained to hear this in individualistic terms—Jesus’ stress is on Israel, on the whole people. In verse 7 he says, “Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again.’” When he says “You must be born again,” that’s plural, it’s “you all must be born again”. Israel as a people had been born the first time when they passed through the waters of the Red Sea and Jesus is saying that now Israel had to be born a second time. This is why John was out in the wilderness baptizing in the Jordan, but that wasn’t all. Israel had been baptised in water before and it wasn’t enough. Now they needed to be baptised in both water and the Spirit. Israel was always supposed to be a pocket of God’s future in the present—so that the nations could see and know the goodness of God. And Jesus is saying that it’s the Spirit who will finally make the people what God had called them to be. As Jesus had said over and over in various ways, he, Jesus, was sent by the Father, but that it would be the Spirit—the “Helper”—who would come after, who would testify to them about this truth and then that through them, this Spirit would testify to the rest of Israel and even to the nations…fulfilling the prophets, effectively creating a new Israel, and through this new people, fulfilling the mission the Lord had given to them from the beginning: to fill the world with the knowledge of him as the waters cover the sea and to testify to the nations in such a way that the nations would flock to the God of Israel to give him glory.
But Nicodemus didn’t get it. Neither did Jesus’ disciples. Because the Spirit had not yet come to testify about Jesus. So Nicodemus asked Jesus, “How can I be born again? I know you’re not talking about returning to my mother’s womb, but what do you mean? A person is only born once.” And as he answers Nicodemus, this is where Jesus switches from saying things like “Unless one is born again” to “Unless you—all of you—are born again”. Because it’s not so much about one person being born again or even about a whole bunch of individuals being born again. It’s about Israel as a people being born again so that she could be put back on track to fulfil her mission—the one given to Abraham two thousand years before. And this idea of birth would have resonated particularly with someone like Nicodemus, because to be a Jew was all about being born as part of Abraham’s family. Other things like circumcision and the sabbath and what you ate (or didn’t eat) were important and especially so for the Pharisees, but those things were important because they identified you as part of Abraham’s family. They also drew a clear boundary between those who were in the family and all the uncircumcised, unclean gentiles who were most definitely not.
What Jesus is saying now is that being born into Abraham’s family in the way the Jews had been thinking about it all this time wasn’t enough. In fact, it never had been enough. And Nicodemus should have known this. For two millennia people were being born into Abraham’s family and God’s kingdom still hadn’t come. For two millennia people were born into Abraham’s family and still the Gentiles hadn’t experienced the Lord’s blessing through them, at least not on the large scale envisioned in the Scriptures. Just the opposite. The Prophet Zechariah had spoken of a day when the Gentiles would be grabbing hold of Jews by their coattails saying, “Take us with you, because we hear that God is with you!” Instead, because of the way most of Abraham’s children were living, the nations mocked them and taunted them saying, “Where’s your God?” It takes more than being born of the flesh of Abraham. It even takes more than being born of water, as Israel had been in the Red Sea. And as a man devoted to the law, to torah, Nicodemus should have understood this. The Pharisees were all about exhorting their fellow Jews to be better keepers of the law, but it wasn’t working. They of all people should have been looking forward to the day when the law would no longer be written on tablets of stone, but engraved on the very hearts of the people by the Holy Spirit.
So Jesus says to Nicodemus, “I’m telling you the solemn truth. Unless you’re born of water and the Spirit you cannot enter God’s kingdom. Flesh is born from flesh, but spirit is born from spirit.” Israel needs something more than a biological inheritance. What does Jesus mean, though, when he talks about being born of water and the Spirit? This is was what John the Baptist was preaching about. God was about to lead his people in a new exodus. As Israel had been led through the waters of the Red Sea to become a covenant family, so John was calling people to pass through the waters of the Jordan—a step of repentance and faith—and into a new covenant. They all needed that baptism of repentance. They needed to turn aside from their own misguided expectations of the kingdom and of the Messiah and from their failures to be faithful to the Lord and his covenant. But remember what John promised. When people asked if he was the Messiah he said that he was only the forerunner. John said, “I baptise you with water, but he will plunge you into the Holy Spirit.” And that’s just what Jesus does. As we recalled last week on Pentecost, Jesus takes those who have repented, who have turned aside from every false lord, from every false god, from every false source of security, from every false way in order to take hold of him in faith by passing through the waters of baptism and he plunges us into the Holy Spirit. And it’s the Spirit who does the work of transforming us. It’s the Spirit who regenerates us. It’s the Spirit who causes us to be born again as he takes our old dead wood and unites it to the life of Jesus, causing us to bear fruit—making us the pocket of God’s future in the present. Through the Spirit we’re born again, born from above.
The last few months I’ve been reading Ed Sanders’ books on the relationship between the New Testament and Second Temple Judaism. Sanders was a brilliant scholar and full of deep insights. His work has had a profound impact on how we understand the New Testament. But he wasn’t a Christian. He described himself as a “secular Mainline Protestant”. And it shows. As brilliant as his insights into Jesus and Paul are, as fascinating as he is to read, it’s all spiritually dry as dust. There’s no doxology to any of it. Sanders even refused to weigh in on whether or not Christianity is superior to Judaism. And so it was like a breath of fresh air when I finished Sanders’ “Paul and Palestinian Judaism” and picked up Tom Wright’s new book of Romans and it was full of the same sorts of brilliant and deep insights—many of them ideas that started with Sanders back in the 1970s—but Bp. Wright’s work is overflowing with doxology and gospel joy. That’s the difference that Jesus and the Spirit make in us.
Think of your baptism as something like Israel at the Red Sea. There was the parted water and God calling Israel to pass through to freedom and new life on the other side. There was no receiving the law in Egypt; they had to cross to the other side of the sea to find covenant, to find relationship with the Lord. And so we stand at the waters of baptism today. In them Jesus gives his promise: Repent, turn aside from every false way, trust me, follow me in faith and you will find forgiveness of sins and new life through the Spirit. To pass through the waters of baptism is to take hold of Jesus’ promise and to be born again of water and the Spirit—and to be made part of this new covenant people ready and equipped to live and to proclaim his kingdom.
But, again, this didn’t fit what Nicodemus knew. “How can this be so?” he asks. And Jesus asks a bit incredulously, “How can you not know this? You’re one of the teachers of Israel!” Nicodemus knew the story. He understood how Israel had so miserably failed in her mission. As a Pharisee he was abundantly aware of this problem. Jesus tells Nicodemus: God has heard your cries and is visiting his people and he’s doing it in me. I’m the son of man, the one spoken of by Daniel all those years ago. I can tell you reliably the things of heaven because I’m the one who has come down from heaven.
At this point, I think, Nicodemus starts to connect the dots as much as anyone could in those days before the Spirit was sent. He started to understand, because now Jesus really starts to correct what was wrong with Israel’s thinking about herself, about what it meant to be God’s people, and about what it would mean for the Lord to come to deliver them. Jesus reminds Nicodemus of an event from Israel’s time in the wilderness. The Israelites grumbled against Moses—which was ultimately grumbling against the Lord—and so he sent poisonous snakes into the camp. They bit people and many of those who were bit died. But the Lord also gave Moses the remedy. He told Moses to cast a snake out of bronze and to mount it on a pole. Anyone who would look up to the bronze snake would be healed.
And now Jesus says, “Just as Moses lifted up that snake in the wilderness, in the same way the son of man must be lifted up so that everyone who believes in him may share in the life of God’s new age.” Jesus is pointing to his own crucifixion. As the snake was the affliction of the people lifted up for them to look at, so Jesus would take the affliction of Israel on himself—he would suffer the punishment for their sins—and be lifted up on the cross. He would be lifted up for everyone to look upon—to see the horror and the gravity of their sin, to see that the wages of sin is death. But they would also see Jesus taking it all on himself and in that, the horror and ugliness of his being raised up would become an act by which he is ultimately glorified. In the cross we see the love of God made manifest in Jesus. And Jesus says in the familiar words we all know, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.”
Jesus corrects the central error in the thinking of Israel in his day. They were hoping and praying for the day when the Lord would come, not just to vindicate his people, but to judge their enemies—to rain down fire and brimstone on the Romans and all the other gentiles. But instead Jesus tells Nicodemus that he’s come not to condemn, but to save all who will look to him. All. The Jews thought the Lord, when he came, would vindicate them for their faithfulness, but Jesus says to Nicodemus, even the most righteous of you need this new birth, this salvation if you want to know God’s vindication. And it’s not just for you. The Jews looked forward to the condemnation he would bring, but Jesus says he’s come not to condemn, but to save. And this is where the part about being born again of water and the Spirit comes into play. Being born of water and the Spirit supersedes biology and genealogy. In Jesus God opens his arms to welcome Jew and Gentile alike. It was the Jews first, because if the Lord is faithful—and he is—he had to first fulfil his promises to his own people, but most importantly, in that act of faithfulness, the nations would take note of the God of Israel. In Jesus, the nations would see that the God of Israel is not like the puny, selfish, fickle, and powerless gods they have known, and they would then flock to this God who is truly good and faithful. This is what God’s future looks like, not just Israel set to rights and everyone else set on fire. God’s future is for everyone who sees Jesus and his people wiping away the tears and forgiving sin, who believes, and who becomes part of it—whether born of Abraham by the flesh or born of Abraham by faith—all born in God’s Spirit.
Abraham’s family is integral to the story and the plan, but Jesus reminds us that genes and DNA were never really what made anyone part of Abraham’s family; it was about faith. It was faith for Abraham himself and it was faith in God’s promises for all who followed after: for Isaac and Jacob, for Joseph and Moses and Joshua, for gentiles like Rahab and Ruth, and even for the great kings like David and Solomon. And God’s promise was that through his covenant people, through these people who knew him in faith and were reconciled to him by faith, he would bless the nations. It happened here and there in the Old Testament. Rahab and Ruth are two of many small-scale testimonies to that, but here we finally see the Lord’s promise coming to full fruit. It’s what we celebrated last week on Pentecost as Jesus sent the Holy Spirit on these men of Israel gathered from around the world. They had heard Peter preach about Jesus and what he’d come to do. They rallied to Jesus in faith and in response Jesus poured his Spirit into them. Finally, through Jesus, Israel became the source of blessing she was intended to be—not by flesh, but by the Spirit—as these men and women took the good news to the nations: Jesus is Lord. He has conquered sin and death. In him is the forgiveness of sin, in him is life, in him God has returned to his creation as King. And in him—the Incarnate Word—God makes himself known. In Jesus, God Incarnate, we have the restoration and fellowship with our Creator that he has been working towards ever since the day we rebelled and were cast out of his presence. In Jesus, God’s kingdom—his new creation—has been inaugurated, in us and through us in the world. Brothers and Sisters, we are that people the God of Israel was working to create and to make new all those millennia. Jesus and the Spirit have finally made us that pocket of God’s future in the present, the pocket where the world is set to rights and where the tears are wiped away, the pocket shows the world the faithfulness and goodness of God. May we be that people—God’s future in the present, the heralds of his new creation—may we be faithful in being this Spirit-renewed gospel people who make known God’s glory to the world.
Let us pray: Almighty God we praise you this morning for the grace you have shown us. Even as we rebelled against you, our good Creator, you were setting in motion our redemption: Father sending, calling, electing; Son speaking, coming, dying, rising; and Spirit uniting, renewing, regenerating, empowering. In the redemption of the world we see the glory of the Trinity and the majesty of the Unity and in gratitude we fall before you with the angels to sing, “Holy, holy, holy Lord God almighty.” By your grace, keep us strong in faith, O Lord, but keep us also faithful in our witness and our ministry to make your redeeming love known to the world. We ask this through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns together with you and the Holy Spirit, one God forever and ever. Amen.