Sermon for March 1, 2026
Lent 2 A
John 3:1-17
Rev. Karl-John N. Stone
Each night before I get ready for bed, I take my dogs outside. As they look down to sniff every blade of grass and stray leaf, I look up to see what the night sky will reveal. Maybe there’s a bright full moon with the “man in the moon” smiling down on me. Or maybe there’s a constellation of stars, like Orion, who I imagine is readying his bow and arrow to hunt the “Ursa Major” (the Big Bear, better known as the Big Dipper). The night sky brings out my innate curiosity, as it feels both close and familiar, as well as far away and mysterious.
The night sky doesn’t always yield its treasures, though. Sometimes you can hardly see a thing, like when it’s cloudy or stormy, or when light pollution washes out even the brightest of stars. But if it’s a really dark night, and all the lights around the house are turned off, and I have a hard time seeing what’s around me, my curiosity can give way to confusion, like “what did I just step on? I didn’t see anything there!”
I wonder what kind of night sky it was when Nicodemus “came to Jesus by night”? Maybe it was a night with a dark cloudy sky? Nicodemus would have needed that because he probably didn’t want anyone to see him. To understand why, we have to think about what the consequences might have been for him. He was a Pharisee, a religious leader of the Jews. And just a week or so before he went looking for Jesus, Jesus had done something very controversial right before the Passover festival. Jesus had entered the Temple in Jerusalem, flipped over the tables of the money changers and poured out their coins; and he’d made a whip to drive out the cattle and sheep they were selling so people could make their sacrifices in worship. Jesus said to them, “Stop making my Father’s house into a marketplace.” You’d better believe lots of people were mad at him! Especially the people Nicodemus would have known best—his fellow Jewish religious leaders, whose job was to take care of the Temple. So Nicodemus was taking a courage-filled risk by going to talk to Jesus at night.
The gospel of John also tells us that even though many were upset about Jesus’ controversial actions in the Temple, there were also many who “believed in his name because they saw the signs he was doing”. Maybe Nicodemus was one of these people, and he needed the cover of night in order to have a genuine conversation with Jesus, and not become a prop in either side’s argument.
We see from their conversation that Nicodemus is a person who is a reflection of the moods of the night sky itself—because he comes to Jesus both in curiosity and confusion.
Curiosity: Nicodemus is interested in learning more about Jesus. His first words are: “Rabbi, we know you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with that person.” He doesn’t have the full perspective that comes from 2,000 years of the church’s experience and witness to Jesus—but he’s got a really good start! And really, that’s where a lot of people are today, since our culture is not as steeped in the Christian story as it used to be. Nicodemus is someone that may be relatable to those who are curious and just wanting to learn about Jesus today. When Jesus answers him, he affirms what Nicodemus said: “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above”.
That phrase, “born from above” can also be translated as “born again”, and we commonly interpret this to mean “be baptized”. Which is true—in baptism we are “born again”, as God works through his Word with the water, to make us die to sin and rise again to new life in Christ. But in Nicodemus’ case, this is before the church was born and before Christian baptism existed. What Jesus is telling him is that God has given him a gift—to see with the eyes of faith; to see how God’s activity is taking shape in the world.
And we are like Nicodemus, too, because that’s the same way we get to see the kingdom of God. When the Holy Spirit moves in our lives and gives us a sense of God’s presence, this leads to carrying a sense of curiosity with us—curiosity about the world around us; curiosity about the people we meet; curiosity about the things that are going on in the community. Curiosity can give us courage like Nicodemus, to be drawn out of our familiar patterns and places and then ask: What do I notice? What questions do I have about these things? How can I listen for what God might be saying to us, or what God might be nudging us to do?
As the conversation continues, Nicodemus answers Jesus affirmation with confusion. “How can anyone be born after growing old? Can you enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” The answer is obviously “no”, and he’s interpreting “born again” in a literal, physiological sense. But it goes to show that the stirrings of faith do not require understanding—at least not at first. As the Franciscan friar Richard Rohr says, “We don’t think our way into new behavior; we behave our way into new ways of thinking.” But at this point in the story, Nicodemus is trying to think his way into something that can only be known by experiencing it first.
Jesus offers an analogy to try to clear up the confusion: “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” He points out that you can hear and see the effects of the wind even before you known the first thing about how wind forms. But for now, Nicodemus remains in his confusion, asking again, “How can these things be?” We learn by the end of the gospel, however, that three years later Nicodemus has started to behave his way into new thinking. He accompanies Joseph of Arimathea to the cross, where they remove Jesus’ dead body, wrap it in linen and spices, and then lay him in a tomb.
Nicodemus, who first came to Jesus by night, at last comes by day and offers his love, devotion, and service. But let’s not forget that his faith in Jesus began in the night. Which is the way faith begins for many. When you think about it, life itself begins in darkness. A seed planted underground grows into a flower. A baby begins its life in the darkness of its mother’s womb, before being born into the world. The seed and the baby don’t understand how they got there, and still, the flower stretches in faith toward the sun for nourishment. The baby reaches toward its mother in faith that she will love and care for it. Faith comes before understanding.
And so it is with us. Curiosity and confusion are both gifts of God, given to plant us in darkness, to inspire us into reaching towards God, and growing to new life in Christ. The theologians call it “faith seeking understanding”. As St. Anselm of Canterbury said, “I do not seek to understand first so that I may believe, but I believe first so that I might understand.” Nicodemus’ conversation with Jesus is an invitation to us to trust God first, so that we may come to understand. Trust that God is good. Trust that God forgives. Trust that God loves, and helps, and saves. Trust first, so that you may begin to understand who Jesus is, and then begin to see the place he has prepared for you in his mission to bless and save the world. Amen.