Year A Lent II Genesis 12:1-4a John 3:1-17

The Call of Abraham. --Fr. Killan McDonnell, OSB Collegeville, Minn "Now the Lord said to Abram, `Go from your country.'" --Genesis 12:1 Talk about imperious. Without a by-your-leave, Or, may I presume? No previous contact, no letter of introduction, no greeting, just out of the blue this unknown God issues edicts. This is not a conversation. Am I a nobody to receive decrees from one whose name I do not know? And at our first encounter! I have worshipped my own god. To you I have addressed no prayers, offered no sacrifices, asked no favors, but quick, like sudden fire in the desert, without the most elemental ritual, I hear "Go." At seventy-five, Am I supposed to scuttle my life, take that ancient wasteland, Sarai, place my thin arthritic bones upon the road to some mumbled nowhere? Let me get this straight. I will be brief. I summarize. In ten generations since the Flood you have spoken to no one. You give commands: pull up my tent, desert my home, the graves of my ancestors, my friends next door, leave Haran for a country you do not name, there to be a stranger, a sojourner. God of the wilderness, from two desiccated lumps, from two parched prunes you promise to make a great nation. In me all peoples of the earth will be blessed. You come late, Lord, very late, but my camels leave in the morning.

Anyone who has ever had to move residence knows what a terrible chore it is. Abraham does not mince words. His move sounds unpleasant in the extreme, and a change of such great magnitude has also got to be downright terrifying. But this isn't a request, it is a command from God.

"Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. This man came to Jesus by night ....”

Another trip, a short one compared to that of Abraham, this one taken in darkness. Why did Nicodemus choose nighttime to visit our Lord? Why not come during the day like everyone else? John's gospel is filled with double meanings, beautifully spoken and woven throughout the text, and so one conclusion might be that Nicodemus was in personal darkness himself, and came to Jesus to shed light on the matters that most troubled him - a person in darkness seeking out the Light of the World.

This is partially accurate, but there is a second reason. Nicodemus is doing something that is frowned on by his fellow Pharisees, consulting with a person of questionable reputation within the Jewish community, a man with whom the respected leaders of Israel find great fault. Nicodemus, doesn't want to be seen speaking to Jesus. He's afraid!

Yet, Nicodemus, despite his considerable terror, which, when you remember that Jesus will shortly be seized and put to death, is not unfounded, comes to this itinerant Rabbi and makes a statement of faith. "Rabbi we know that you are a teacher who has come from God."

On what does he base his startling and enlightened conclusion? “For no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Nicodemus has believed what he has heard, and perhaps seen, the outward signs that convince him that Jesus is a teacher sent by God. Like you and me, he is a practical, sensible, “I believe it when I see it,” kind of fellow. And Jesus immediately sees the error in Nicodemus’ way of thinking, that he basis everything on his worldly experience. Thus, Jesus responds, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit.”

And here we have another double meaning. In the Greek, the earliest language in which our New Testament appears, what Jesus says is, “one must be born anothen, a word almost impossible to translate into English, because it carries a double meaning. One must be born again, but also, one must be born from above. Nicodemus immediately takes Jesus words at face value, and incredulous, asks, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?”

Nicodemus is us, and our society today. Like Nicodemus, we have, for years, been storing up inside of ourselves the accumulated wisdom and common sense of our elders, our society, and our culture. Nicodemus sees someone who can do something extraordinary, and says to Him, “You must be holy,” but doesn’t understand what that really means. He doesn’t grasp what he is being told by this holy man.

So Jesus explains Himself, “Do not be astonished that I say to you ‘You must be born anothen.’ And then comes that beautiful passage, 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.

Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can this be?’” And perhaps more to the point for us, what does that mean and how can we be born “anothen” as we are being told we must do? The wind, of all images, is something we cannot grasp, store up, or save. Yet, Jesus tells Nicodemus, and us, that like the wind those born of the Spirit must live at the boundary of what is tangible and intangible, of what is both controllable and elusive. Jesus tells us we need to travel - from where we are securely grounded in worldly logic to a new place.

We must be ready and willing to do this, to make this move away from what is known, into what is not fully known, from what is understood into that which passes understanding. This is not a request. It is a command, if we wish to enter the Kingdom of God. Baptism gives us the Spirit, but we must live in that Spirit, must move in that Spirit, into that life to which we are called.

Lent is the season the Church has provided to give us a span of time in which to concentrate on making this move. Like Abraham, we must make an inventory of all that we are and all that we have, and decide what we wish to keep, and what we must discard and leave behind. It is an emptying of self, a wrenching of ourselves from things that are familiar, from things cherished, from convictions long held, from anything that separates us from the Love of God. It is a sometimes frightening journey of the heart and soul, but it is not one we are asked to make alone.

God loves us, and therefore we can let go, become empty, become humble. We place our trust in the Son of Man who must be lifted up for us, knowing that any suffering we experience is sanctified by His. Then, finally, we are able to be holy, to do with a smile that which God asks of us, knowing that God does not require of us great works, but only that all we do, be done with great love. This is our journey, that we move away from self and selfishness, into being truly anothen, born of the Spirit, and filled with God’s Love.

Let me get this straight. I will be brief. I summarize.

You give commands: pull up our tents, desert our lives and comforts as we know them, our worldly traditions, even our friends and neighbors, and head into a country where at first we will feel like strangers. But you promise us the Kingdom of God. You ask a lot, Lord, a lot, but our camels leave in the morning.

Let us pray:

God, our heavenly Father, whose glory fills the whole creation, and whose Presence we find wherever we go: Preserve us, we who travel from pride to humility, from error into Truth; surround us with Your loving care; protect us from every danger; and bring us safely to our journey’s end; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.