The wind, Nicodemus and a snake on a stick - Lent 2A

Lent 2A - March 16, 2014

Today we hear about Nicodemus, wind, and a snake on a stick – a motley crew, and unlikely companions in one story.   They are somewhat tied together in my mind by one of those personality test characteristics that helps explain how people see, experience and understand the world around them.  It’s a continuum.  Some people understand the world around them best from what they see, hear, taste, touch – from what they sense.   At the other end, some people understand the world best from what they perceive or intuit, from their gut feeling.   One way isn’t better than the other, and people do tend to understand things more often one way or the other.

I best understand what I can see, touch and sense.   As such, I really understand Nicodemus, and think he does too, given today’s dialogue.   If I were in his shoes, I’d be saying the same thing.  

Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night. He acknowledges that Jesus is from God, because of the things Nicodemus can SEE of what Jesus does; those things must be from God.

Jesus answers in a cryptic way.  He says that no one can SEE the kingdom of God if they aren’t born from above.   The original word Jesus uses after the word born has two meanings, and had two meanings at the time he uttered the words.  The word he used could have meant “born again”, or it could mean “born from above”.  Nicodemus jumps to the tangible, sensing, seeing, touching meaning, and asks how it is possible to be born again.  Can someone really reenter the womb?   As someone who is thick when it comes to metaphors and poetry, I totally understand his question.   How is that possible?  But that’s not the meaning Jesus was going for.  He meant born from above or as he clarifies later, born of the spirit.

To try to explain, Jesus goes on to talk about the wind. He tells Nicodemus that you cannot see the wind, don’t know where it’s coming from, or where it’s going, but you can sense the impact -  you can hear the sound of it.

With this explanation, I can imagine Nicodemus understanding a little more, or at least understanding the wind analogy.   I needed that analogy, because I understand wind.   A few weeks ago, we had a wind storm. You could absolutely hear the wind through the trees, and after the storm blew over, you could see the fallen branches resulting from that invisible wind.  Talking about invisible wind, and the visible effects of the wind I can comprehend.

Like wind, the Holy Spirit is not visible. You can’t see where it’s coming from or where it’s going.  Being born from above, or being born of the spirit means that invisible unknowable force blows to their core.   You don’t know where it’s coming from, or where it’s going.  But with people born of the spirit, people who let that wind blow freely and respond willingly, you can hear the result of that force. You can see the wonderful impact of a life lived, guided by the spirit.   You can hear the leaves rustle like a gentle summer breeze, and you can see the impact that force has on their life and the lives of everyone around them.

If we let ourselves be blown, blown to the core, people can see that in us, can see its effect.  I think that’s what Jesus is trying to tell Nicodemus about what being born of the spirit looks like.

With the wind analogy, Christ is telling Nicodemus, and all of us, that there is more to the world than what we can see, and touch and taste and sense.  We have to acknowledge the unseeable, untouchable, unsensable presence in order to let it blow to our core.  If we acknowledge it, and let ourselves be guided by it, our resulting actions and love can be seen and sensed.  And we are born from above and can see the kingdom.

We get a little about the things we can see and the things we cannot in the psalm.  I lift my eyes to the hills, from where is my help to come.

Hills or mountains are one of those places where there is very little space between the visible concrete world, and the invisible spirit-filled world.  I look to the hills, and I see rock-solid granite.  Easy to sense and see.  But there’s something else present.  An immensity and grandness that is holy.  Even for the most solid of sensing types, there is something invisibly holy and present in the hills.  I look to the hills.  From where does my help come?

Back with Nicodemus, Jesus then continues with more stories about the seen and unseen.  He references Moses who lifted up the snake.

A little background is order.  Moses has led the people of Israel out into the wilderness, where they wander for 40 years.   They spend much of their time complaining about and to Moses. Why did you take us out, just to die in the wilderness?    But in this instance referenced today, the people of Israel complain about both Moses and God.  And for their complaints against God, God sends poisonous snakes, which bite and kill many of the Israelites.

Now the people run to Moses and repent, and want the snakes to go away.   Once again, Moses appeals to God on their behalf.  And God tells Moses to take a snake and put it up on a stick, and tell the people they need to look at the snake hoisted up on the stick.  Moses fashions one out of bronze and hoists it up.  When people are bitten, they look at the hoisted poisonous snake and are healed.

Why all the drama?  Why not just get rid of the snakes?  I think God is helping the people see and sense another unseeable force  - the forces of evil.   They couldn’t see evil.  They didn’t know where it was coming from or where it was going.  But they could see the impact of that force unleashed.   They were asked to look at the visible result of the invisible force that resulted in their blasphemous complaints against God.   Look at the visible result, the snake on a stick, of the invisible force, your doubt and mistrust in God.  Look and understand the impact.  And then be healed.

Jesus tells Nicodemus that just like Moses had to lift up the snake for people to see, the Son of Man must be lifted up.  

As for the Israelites, Evil is a force in our lives.  It separates us from God, and causes us to do things that are the opposite of love.   We cannot see evil.  We cannot see where it comes from or where it goes.  But we can see the result of its force unleashed.

On the cross.

Jesus was ridiculed, taunted, lied to and lied about, tortured and ultimately killed.  That is the visible result of evil.  And while you and I have not crucified anyone, we have ridiculed, taunted, lied.  We have acted in a way that separates us from God, and separates us from each other.  

And like the Israelites, we need to consider the visible effects of that invisible force.  To me, that’s what Lent is about.  Acknowledging the unseeable, and the path of destruction it leaves in our lives and those around us.  And seeing it.  Really seeing it.  Gazing on it.  Not because we are to wallow in our badness.  But because without seeing it, without acknowledging its impact on our lives, without gazing at Christ on the Cross, we cannot fully understand today’s Gospel reading, or Christ’s death, resurrection and ascension.

You see, despite the invisible force of evil, and the trail it leaves, our constant role in giving evil a home,  God so loved the world, that he gave his only son that we will not perish, that we might be saved.

Despite the evil that we do, that is done on our behalf, God gave his only son that we might be saved.


God knows that evil exists, that we behave in ways to separate us from God.  That evil results in lies, and corruption, and violence and oppression, and torture and death.  That evil results in the cross.


And yet, we use the cross, that sign of execution, as a sign of solidarity and hope and promise. Not wallowing in the badness.  But we know the rest of the story.  We know what happens after the crucifixion.  Yes, evil happens, but because God so loved the world, sin, evil and death are destroyed.  Not forever. But with God, we can be saved from all of that, time and time again.  Through Christ, we are transformed, renewed and forgiven.  The cross is a sign that those dark forces do not have the last word. God does.

Lent is a time for us to see the visible effect of sin and evil in our life and the lives of those around us. And to think about God sending us his son to save us from all of that.  The cross is the gruesome, glorious visible sign, like the rustling leaves, of the bad and good invisible forces that blow us.

As we will sing in a little while,

Lift high the cross, the love of Christ proclaim.
Till all the world adore his sacred name.

Amen.

The Game of Life? Epiphany 7 A

Very frequently, when we hear stories from the Jesus, he gets almost to the punch line or point of the story, but not quite.  He leaves us just short, forcing us to think harder, making us come to conclusions, wondering the whole time, whether we’ve landed in the right direction.  Just exactly what is Jesus asking of us with this saying or that story?  Today, there isn’t much room for individual interpretation, in either the Gospel or the Old Testament readings.   Today, we are provided the conclusion.   You would think that might make it easier.  The problem is that without all that time to ponder what it means or how it applies, to hear the set up of the story, the conclusion sounds abrupt and out of context at best, or senseless and irrelevant at worst.  
Here are a few examples.  
If you work hard and plant your field, don’t harvest the whole field.  Leave the edge of the field so the poor and alien can gather the fruits of your harvest.  

If someone does something wrong, or wrong to you, don’t take vengeance or bear a grudge.  

If someone sues you and takes your coat, give them your cloak as well.

While it’s unlikely any of us are field workers, or being sued for our coat, it’s not hard to translate each of these into something that’s far more relevant today.  And once we do that, these words seem to make even less sense.

If you’ve worked hard in business and made money, don’t take it all.  Leave some for those in poverty and undocumented workers, who are the aliens of today. 

If you are taken to court, either for your business or personal life, and you lose a contentious settlement and need to pay up, pay even more.  

If you or your home is robbed, don’t bear a grudge.  

If you see someone begging on the street in downtown, give to them. Always.  

The rules are clear.  But given our world, they make no sense.   We are in a time and place where giving to every beggar would be time consuming.  Where we work hard for the settlements and lawsuits in our favor, where we take issue with welfare and taxes continually taking our hard-earned money.  

There are a few things that we heard today that are more in line with the way we think, moreover, the way our culture seemingly promotes and expects us to behave.   An eye for an eye.  Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.   But unfortunately, these more familiar concepts are precisely what Christ is saying we should not do.  

Christ says that not only are we to love our neighbor, we’re also supposed to love our enemy.   And pray for those who persecute us. 

I’ve heard these words –  love your enemy and leave your field for the foreigner - and I know it to be the right thing to do, but it doesn’t make sense.  Why should I give up my hard earned money?  Why should I not reap what I sow?   Why should I give to beggars and pray for the people who really hurt me or those I love?   It doesn’t make sense in the world as I perceive and experience it.    

As I understand it, we live in a world at a time where we’re supposed to aim for more.  Make more.  Be more.  Spend more. More differentiates us from others. We compare ourselves to others and set our place in the social structure by those things we strive for more of – money, prestige, power.  That’s something we all do, throughout time and throughout the world. In America, we have the added layer of the American Dream, self made man, pull yourself up by your bootstraps.  All of this is counter to what we hear today.   

But how our culture lives is strikingly similar to the game of Life, that board game created by Milton Bradley in 1860.  The stated objective of the game of Life is to “have the highest dollar amount at the end of the game.”   Now, I know that Milton Bradley hasn’t really defined our lives, set the rules, or that we’re not really playing one giant parlor game.  I think no one here would believe that their life’s objective is to simply have the highest dollar amount at the end of your game.     

We know that we have to live this life, in order to enjoy what we make of it.  We get married.  We have children.  We spend money on trips and memories.  All of these things result in a net loss of the dollar amount we have at the end of our game.  We know life is more than just having the most.  

So I think we can all agree that we aren’t little pink and blue pegs in the game of Life.  We don’t move through the world simply by spinning the spinner and moving to the “go to college” square.  And we don’t win simply by having the most. 

And yet, it’s such a pervasive message in our world view that it’s the premise of our country’s first board game.   It may not be our goal in life, but it sometimes seems like it’s supposed to be.
   
So if that’s not the game we are playing, if that’s not the objective of the game, what is the end game a Christ-centered life, and how do we get there?  I think Christ is clear about the objective.   Love God and love each other.  But how do we get there? What are the rules?

What Christ is talking about is a fundamentally different game. We know the goal of this game is to love, but we forget, or we momentarily play to a different end.   And even if we could keep the objective always in mind, the rules for how to play are very foreign, and since cave man days, Christ’s ways are not the ways we are hard wired to respond, not only an approaching saber tooth tiger, or a schoolyard bully, but to all of the challenges life throws our way.  

We are hard wired for one of two responses.  Fight.    Or Flight. 
   
I think as rugged Americans we’re quick to pick fight, or said more politely, to rise to the challenge.   We know how to stand up for and get what we want.  If needed, we can back down or run away, but we see it as weakness.  In order to win at the perceived game we’re in, we are often in conflict, and we often chose to fight. 

I think that when we get confused about the objective of the game of a Christ centered life, to end the game with the most money, or power or prestige, we see life as conflict, weigh our options and chances of winning, and frequently pick fight.  

But if the objective of this game isn’t to win with the most,  but rather to love, could it be possible we’re using the wrong rules?  Maybe fight or flight is the wrong hard-wired choice. 

Because we forget what game we’re playing, the rules make no sense.   Conflict, evil and oppression arise because someone has lost sight of the vision of love.  When someone is working on that Milton Bradly objective, fight or flight makes much more sense.  I will get ahead, because I will tromp on you.  I am more powerful or will exert my control over you because I can. I think today’s readings give us a glimpse into a different set of rules for this game. 

Christ is trying to show us that we don’t need to pick fight or flight. Those are not the rules for his game, and although it may seem like those are the only options, he’s showing another way, a way of love, and of peaceful, yet persistent resistance.  And when we respond this other way, we totally change the nature of the game we’re playing, and begin to change the game around us as well.  

You see, when you encounter someone playing the game of Life with the worldly rules, change the game with a response that demonstrates you’re not playing that game.  At all.  That’s not your objective.  And those aren’t your rules.

What does this peaceful resistance look like?  This third way?  
One of the modern day practitioners of peaceful resistance was Gandhi.  In the movie classic Gandhi, there’s a scene where he’s walking down the street with an Anglican Priest.  A band of thugs approach them.   The Priest suggests they move to the other side of the street.  (This is the “flee” option. )  Gandhi refuses, quoting today’s Gospel reading, “Doesn’t the New Testament say that if someone strikes you on the cheek you offer them the other cheek?” 

The Priest tries to explain it away as a metaphor, but Gandhi disagrees.  He says that he thought Christ was calling for courage.  Courage to stand your ground and not flee.  Courage to take the blow.    Also show courage to not fight back.  He explains to the priest that if you don’t flee, and you don’t fight, it calls upon something in the other person.  It makes them realize, perhaps slowly, that you are not playing by the same rules or for the same end game, and something changes in them.   The hatred decreases, respect increases.  With that simple act of resistance, you have changed the game.  

Each one of the examples offered in the Gospel today is a powerful demonstration of courage.  If you respond in that third way, it’s also gives you control over the situation.  You are defining the objective of the game.  Love. Respond with a way that refuses to give in.  And refuses to fight.   And loves.  

If someone sues you, graciously give them more.  Show love. It’s disarming.   

The story about being asked to go one mile?  That was something soldiers did, as a demeaning request coming from their worldly power.  I’m a soldier, I can ask you to carry my stuff for one mile.  To fight would be to argue, and that wouldn’t go well.  To flee or concede would be to simply do as you’re told.  What Christ provides is a third option.  Go two miles.  I’ll carry your stuff, not because you have power over me, not because I’m powerless.  I’ll carry your stuff for two miles, because I love.  That response wholly disarms the soldier.  He din’t need you to carry his stuff.  He wanted you to play by his rules.  You instead change the game, carry it for two, and leave the soldier wondering what happened to the power-feeding interaction he set up.   It vaporized, with your simple response.  

In modern day, I have little power battles in my day job, with people wanting to exert power over me because they can, or at home with kids, because I can.  Sometimes, I argue or resist. And that rarely goes well.  Sometimes I just do as I’m told.  And that also doesn’t feel good, because it feels like I’m feeding a warped power appetite.  If however, I can take a minute, and refocus on Christ’s goal for me I can change the dynamic entirely.   I can respond in a way that truly helps the other person, helps them succeed.  What started as a snarky power-laden request from someone else, or from me,  ends with surprised, gracious and genuine appreciation.  And it changes the relationship a little for ever.  

We constantly get caught up in playing the other Game of Life.  And we forget what the purpose of our life really is.  We forget how to play.   So does everyone around us.  By modeling peaceful resistance, by refusing to fight violence with violence, or by refusing to succumb to worldly corrupt power, we live in a way that is Christ centered.  And for those people around us who don’t know the Good News of Christ’s rules and goals, our actions give them a glimpse of another, more loving way to be.

Amen.