“A New Birth” a Sermon Delivered by Rev. W. Benjamin Boswell at Myers

“A New Birth”

A sermon delivered by Rev. W. Benjamin Boswell at Myers Park Baptist Church on March 12, 2017 Lent 2 from John 3:1-17

In the late 1600’s, a fire started in Germany among a fervent group of Lutheran Pietists. Its flames were fanned by John Wesley and other English Methodists whose hearts were strangely warmed. It inspired the preaching of Puritan minister Jonathan Edwards and sparked movements, like the First and Second Great Awakenings, with emotional worship, camp meetings, tent revivals, and fiery preaching that baptized the frontier—it created the Bible Belt, and fashioned the soul of early America.

Later, it captured the imagination of a young student named Billy Graham who started a radio broadcast and then took the show on the road preaching to 2.2 billion people at “Crusades” filled with gospel music, altar-calls, and conversion experiences for 3.2 million souls around the world. It has had a strong impact on economics and politics in the United States since the Civil War and influenced the outcome of every presidential election since 1976. It is known as Evangelicalism and its chief doctrine is the belief that every person must be “born again” in order to be saved.

After serving seven months in prison, the Watergate conspirator Chuck Colson published a bestselling book entitled Born Again describing his path to faith. That book played a significant role in establishing and solidifying the born again identity as a cultural construct in American life. That same year, Democratic presidential candidate Jimmy Carter, publically declared that he was born again” and, since that time, every person who has been President of the United States has proclaimed that they are a “born again” Christian.

Today, about 40% of Americans identify themselves as “born again”. One of the jokes about born again Christians is that they are just as big a pain the second time around . . . I include myself in that.

On this first Sunday in the sacred season of Lent during this time of deep self-examination as we are confronted by this story from the gospel of John where the phrase “born again” was born, we might want to start by asking ourselves some questions about this movement: What has 40% of Americans being “born again” brought in the world? Has it made any difference? Has it born any goodness? Has it brought light into the world as its founder bore or, has it brought the world more darkness?

We must not forget, Nicodemus came to Jesus by night, under the cover of darkness. He was a Pharisee, a teacher of the law, a religiously orthodox scribe, a leader and ruler of the Jewish people, a member of the Sanhedrin—the Jewish council—they were affiliated with the nationalist party that was colluding with the Roman power occupying Jerusalem. Nicodemus was a powerful leader

Why did he go at night? Perhaps he was afraid that someone might see him. Perhaps he went at night for fear of losing his position and power by associating with this radical unruly prophet. Perhaps he was a secret follower, a private believer, a crypto-Christian, a “fly by night” disciple of Jesus who could not risk or jeopardize his worldly respect, authority, prestige, and influence and all he had worked so hard to secure and achieve by talking with Jesus during the daylight. Or, perhaps the darkness is a metaphor for Nicodemus’ inability to see.

Theologian Sam Wells says, Nicodemus represents the gospels’ ambivalence about whether discipleship can coexist with wealth, privilege, and power. Such people make important contributions to the gospel story, becoming visible at just the point when the regular disciples are invisible. But it seems they appear only at the evening hour, once their “work,” their public role, is done. They may have a personal faith, but it is not clear how that personal faith makes a public difference. The question remains: can someone be a follower of Jesus if they have no public witness, if their faith makes no difference, and if only follow Jesus in the shadows at night? What kind of disciple is Nicodemus?

The old gospel hymn “Ye Must Be Born Again” that was popularized at Billy Graham revivals by the deep baritone of George Beverly Shea said “A ruler once came to Jesus by night to ask him the way of salvation and light; the Master made answer in words true and plain, ‘Ye must be born again.” The only problem is that Nicodemus did not come to Jesus asking about salvation and light.

He respectfully called Jesus “Rabbi” and claimed, “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.” Nicodemus wasn’t asking Jesus how to get saved. In fact, he didn’t ask a question at all.

It is as if this secret follower of Jesus was trying to justify himself to Jesus saying, “I can see it with my own eyes. The things you are doing must be signs from God. Aren’t you proud of me Jesus? I believe in you!” Poor Nicodemus must have been very disappointed when Jesus replied, “Seeing and believing in the signs is not enough, Nicodemus. Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above!”

Jesus didn’t make things any clearer for Nicodemus when he came to him by night; instead, he made them darker.

Nicodemus was a well-trained, highly educated, powerful religious leader. “The Rev. Dr. Nicodemus” is how we should think of him—approaching Jesus fully assured of himself, believing that he understood the signs and what they were pointing to. And, if he could see the signs and believe, then he must be in good shape and on the right track.

But Jesus challenged Nicodemus’ ability to see with an incredibly confusing statement—that is even more befuddling in the original language. The Greek word “anothen”—has a double or even triple meaning. It can mean “from the first”, “from the beginning”, “for a second time”, “again”, or “anew”, and it can also mean “from above, from the top, from on high, and from heaven”. But as brilliant as the Rev. Dr. Nicodemus was, with all his knowledge, intelligence and credentials, Jesus words sounded absolutely absurd, which is why he said, “How can anyone be born after growing old? Can one enter into a mother’s womb a second time and be born all over again?”

© 7 As a minister, pastor, and religious leader like Nicodemus, I have to say, that it gives me great confidence to know that Jesus confused other people just like me. Even the sharpest minds don’t understand what Jesus is talking about. In their encounter at night and throughout this conversation in the dark, Nicodemus and Jesus were speaking on entirely different levels. Jesus was speaking metaphorically on a mystical plane about a revolution of heart, mind, body, and soul—a holistic transformation that was needed for the kingdom, but the metaphor was completely lost on Nicodemus who could only hear what Jesus was saying literally, materially, and biologically. He could not escape the darkness of his own dualistic thinking—a closed black and white theological system that separated the spiritual from the material world. Nicodemus thought that, if he saw the signs and believed in Jesus, that would be enough—but Jesus did not come to usher in a surface level change.

He did not come to impress Nicodemus with signs or transform his sight. He came to completely transform Nicodemus’ entire life. He came to transform the entire world as well.

Like Nicodemus, regardless of how many degrees we have, how many years we have been in church, how many leadership positions we have held, how many ordinations and certifications we’ve been given, we are all inheritors of a closed theological system. The “born again” theology we have inherited, that has dominated our nation’s cultural landscape for over 250 years would have us believe that being “born again” is about asking Jesus into our hearts, securing our eternal destiny, and punching our ticket into the pearly gates of heaven. That makes “born again” a fixed theological term that flattens Jesus powerful claim into an overly spiritualized, one-dimensional promise of other worldly salvation. It makes following Jesus seem as easy, as clean, and as cheap as saying a few words. And I fear that those who cling to this way of thinking have more in common with the Rev. Dr. Nicodemus than they do with Rabbi Jesus.

There is one similarity though. Jesus did want transformation, but just not our eyes, our minds, our worldviews, or our beliefs . . . or even our spirit. Jesus wanted a complete transformation of everything.

The traditional evangelical idea of being “born again” simply does not go deep enough. Before he died, the Christian music artist Rich Mullins often said that when he was in high school he got born again once a year on the last day of summer church youth camp. He said he needed that and, when he got to college, he realized he was so messed up that he needed to get born again every couple of months. Close to the end of his life Rich said, “The more I live the more I believe that I need to be born again every single day.” Interestingly, Mullins’ philosophy sounds a lot like the great spiritual teacher Gandhi who said, “Every night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, I wake up, and I am reborn.”

When Jesus told Nicodemus he had to be “born again” he wasn’t calling him to say some words, pray a prayer, ask Jesus into his heart, or believe in the signs—he was talking about death and resurrection. You can’t be born again unless you are first willing to die. That is why theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer testified against the corrupt theology of the German church by saying, “Cheap grace is the grace we bestow upon ourselves. It is forgiveness without repentance, baptism without accountability, Communion without confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Christ, living and incarnate.”

The transformation Jesus was offering Nicodemus was not cheap like the kind you get a revival. It was a radical break with the way his life had always been. He was calling Nicodemus to walk in the light—to follow him in the night and in the daytime, and that would mean an end to his life, as he knew it. He might have to give up all he’d worked for to achieve his status. Quite possibly it would

But that is what Jesus required—a complete reversal. He was inviting Nicodemus to embark on a risky journey to find a new life, a new identity, a new reality—he was calling him as he calls us all, to become a new creation.

The gospel of John was written for a community of believers who had been thrown out of the local synagogue, excluded from Judaism, and orphaned from their families because they were followers of Jesus. These disciples had been Jewish from birth and now they had no synagogue, no community, no ethnicity, and no identity other than as followers of Jesus. The idea of being “born again” or “born from above” which only appears in the gospel of John does so because it was this particular community’s way of developing a new ethnicity and new identity in a new family called church. “Born again” for the community of John was the language of redemption and hope for a people who had been rejected by their families and cut off from everything they knew.

As Wes Howard Brook explains, to be a member of the community was no longer a matter of ethnicity or inheritance but commitment to Jesus and the public and personal consequences of that commitment. Ultimately, this led the expelled Johannine community to declare that Pharisees who wanted to follow Jesus must renounce their status as Pharisees.

John’s church community was a persecuted people, therefore nocturnal disciples, who were acting as rulers by day and worshippers by night, were the hardest for them to accept. The more they experienced the pain of rejection, the more difficult it was to deal with “secret” believers who would not put their lives where their hearts were. Nicodemus in this story is the embodiment of their greatest threat—he was a leader of the Sanhedrin who was not willing to accept the risk of following Jesus in the light of day and living out his faith in public.

If Chapter 3 was the only time we heard of Nicodemus, we might wonder if he ever changed after this encounter. But in Chapter 7, Nicodemus appears again when the rabble-rouser Jesus shows up in the temple courts during a festival and causes a ruckus. The Pharisees send a cohort of guards to arrest him, but the guards refuse. And when the Pharisees chastised them for failing to apprehend Jesus, Nicodemus speaks up and says, “Does our law condemn a man without first hearing him to find out what he has been doing?”

This might seem like a powerful intervention on Jesus’ behalf, but where was Nicodemus when they sent the guards to arrest him? Why didn’t he speak up then? Nicodemus speaks up only after the plot has already been foiled. His intervention is too late. His tragic flaw is doing the right thing at the wrong time.

After Jesus’ arrest, trial, humiliation, torture, and execution, Nicodemus appears again—once more under the cover of darkness, and this time to offers a worthy burial for Jesus’ body. But, of course, his intervention is too late. Where was he when Judas was paid to betray him? Where was he when soldiers were sent to arrest him? Where was he when the Sanhedrin handed him over to be judged by Pilate? He was a part of that decision. Where was he when the crowd chanted, “crucify him?” Only after Jesus had died does he appear, again at night, to perform a noble but tragically late act of service. Paralyzed by fear, unwilling to speak out, unable to play an active role, Nicodemus becomes complicit as a member of the council in Jesus’ passion and death. Sadly, instead of new birth, the story of Nicodemus ends with death.

© 7 It reminds me of the Protestant pastor Martin Niemöller who emerged as an outspoken public foe of Hitler and believed that he and other leaders in the Protestant church had been complicit in their silence, and spent the seven years in Nazi concentration camp. Niemöller survived the war, but believed that he and other leaders of the Protestant churches had been complicit in their silence during the imprisonment, persecution, and systematic murder of millions of people. After the war he delivered number of lectures where he shared his regret and recited his famous poem: First they came for the Incurable patients, and I did not speak out— Because I was not an incurable patient.

Then they came for the Communists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Communist.

Then they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak.

One of the reasons that Jesus’ call to be “born again” has been watered down into a shallow, cheap, and easy conversion for the purpose of salvation is its proximity to the most well-known verse in all of scripture, John 3:16, “For God so loved the world.” Have you ever wondered why Jesus said these words at this moment? How often do we proof text this line and forget that Jesus was talking to Nicodemus—a Pharisee and leader of the Sanhedrin!

Why would Nicodemus, a fly by night disciple, need to hear these words?

Well, it is the same reason we all need to hear them—to be reminded that God is a benevolent God who loves the world and did not send Jesus into the world to judge or condemn, but to save the world, to liberate the world, and to deliver the world.

Jesus did not say, “For God so loved the Christians.” Jesus did not say, “For God so loved the Church.” Jesus did not say, “For God so loved American.” Jesus did not say, “For God so loved the good, strong, faithful, moral, hard-working, well-off, and the pure.”

No. He said, “For God so loved the world—the whole Earth and every single creature upon it.”

The story of Nicodemus serves to remind us that the season of Lent is a journey into the dark night of our hearts, our souls, and our world where we encounter a strange person named Jesus who means to transform us into new creations. It is a journey we must all take, and when we encounter Jesus in the darkness, we will come face to face with an all-consuming love that we cannot hide from—a love that knows every secret of our existence—a love that strips us of every projection, pretention, false self, and façade—a love that breaks down every barrier and tears down every wall—a love that reveals who we are and what are meant to be.

© 7 Make no mistake, encountering that kind of unmerited, indescribable, incomprehensible and overwhelming love will be a crisis for us all. We will have to make a decision to either turn around, to shield our face, run away, and reject that love, or to allow that love to rush over us, in us, and through us, and to be completely transformed. Transformation cannot be programed or manufactured—it is beyond our control and yet, it always makes a difference in the world.

Jesus said, “the Spirit blows where it chooses”. And, whenever it blows there is always new life, there is always new creation, and there is always new birth—if we are willing to be fully and completely reborn. Amen.