This morning our gospel passage introduces us to an intriguing character who is sent to us as a powerful messenger. His role in John’s narrative may seem insignificant, like a supporting player written in to provide added detail and richer context. But, deeper study shows that this man has much to teach us as modern believers searching for faith.

From the moment we meet him, our imaginations are engaged. For starters, he has a really cool name, like an old school blues musician. “Coming to the stage with his mighty saxophone, please welcome – Nicodemus!” “Nicodemus,” that just sounds like someone who chain smokes and drinks whiskey and eats fried foods! It’s the name of a person who lives on the edge of civilized society, who stays up all night, sleeps in past noon and has sharp biting things to say about world affairs, soccer moms and rising gas prices. We might like to hear Nicodemus play on an occasional Friday night, but he’s not someone we want our daughter to date. And while it is entertaining to create a dark and exotic back story for Nicodemus, the one John gives us is even more fascinating. 

The original Nicodemus is anything but a cynical social commentator. He is the epitome of button-down establishment. He is the product of an expensive education, well placed friendships and access to the rich and powerful. Nicodemus is the elite of 1^st century Syria. He holds a coveted position on the Supreme Court of Israel. He is one of only 71 judicial and legislatives leaders for the nation. He may be on his way to becoming the Chief Justice, the High Priest. Nicodemus is a triple threat. He’s a Pharisee, a man trained in the law of Moses. He’s a scribe, a man trained in languages, journalism, and precise listening.  He is a member of the Sanbiedrin – the only body of national leadership left in power under the Roman occupation.   Nicodemus is entrenched in the status quo. He has nothing to gain from an association with an itinerate carpenter/preacher and he has much to lose from any involvement with an upstart religious movement. 

Nicodemus is a cautious, reasoned man. He considers options and consequences. He likes proof and evidence. He is not swayed by superstition or hearsay. He has been following the movement of Jesus. The teacher coming out of Nazareth, gathering crowds from village to village has come to his attention. Is this Jesus a threat to the tenuous Jewish order? Is he a momentary distraction, someone who has captured the notice of the masses for an instant or is this a voice of substance? Nicodemus and his department are carefully observing, carefully gathering data and impressions. 

The conclusions are damning. This Jesus is gaining wider and wider appeal. He matches his compelling speeches with amazing feats of healing. His knowledge of the law is prodigious and his communication skills are phenomenal. Others are worried, Nicodemus is intrigued. His associates want to distance themselves and condemn the so called prophet. Nicodemus wants to know more.

But, he is no fool. He has stature and position to protect, so he comes to Jesus under the cover of night. Apart from his aides and fellow leaders, away from the crowds and disciples, Nicodemus meets Jesus in secret. They share a calm, intellectual but pointed conversation. Nicodemus questions, Jesus responds. Nicodemus pushes the debate further, Jesus responds. Nicodemus departs. 

He returns to his society, his life, his beliefs. Nicodemus is not wholly convinced. He does not undergo a radical, instantaneous conversion. He does not walk out on his judicial appointment. He doesn’t resign from the high court or the temple board. He doesn’t pack a knapsack and grab comfortable sandals to join Andrew and Philip, the simple hearty fisher-folk. Nicodemus takes a more measured approach. He thinks. He debates. He waits. We know Nicodemus stays engaged with what Jesus teaches. We know he believes God may be at work in this teacher. Four chapters later, when the temple police come back to the chief priests having failed to arrest Jesus, Nicodemus is there. When his partners berate the police for their lack of action and their apparent gullibility, Nicodemus takes a surprising stand. He urges restraint. He encourages his fellow justices to hold to the strictest letter of the law and wait until a true crime can be charged and proven. Nicodemus is not yet a believer, but he is considering and moving in that direction.

Twelve chapters later, Jesus is dead. Joseph of Arimathea, the wealthy merchant and secret disciple, goes to Pilate to claim the body. Nicodemus goes with Joseph to the cross. They take the body down and carry it to a tomb in a nearby garden. Nicodemus brings 100 pounds of powdered myrrh and aromatic wood with his to the tomb. In contrast to his first meeting in private, in the dark, Nicodemus is now seen with Jesus in full sunlight, in the hours just before Sabbath, on the hill of execution. He commits to more than expensive funeral arrangements. He makes a public showing of his newfound faith. The soldiers, the crowd, the Pharisees and their aides, the scribes, the priests, the disciples…anyone out that afternoon could see where Nicodemus was putting his trust and his loyalty. 

The “Protector of the Faith” had traveled far in his personal faith journey. He ended up somewhere unexpected and probably unwelcomed. His was not an easy journey but the destination was worth the effort. Nicodemus traveled from a place of certainty and comfort, intellectual ease and worldly acclaim to a place of questions and doubt, suspicion and ridicule. On the other side of all that dis-ease, he found deeper peace and transformation. He found a soul of great integrity. He found a spirit of wide generosity. Nicodemus is the model Jesus describes. He had the world, he gave it up. And instead of losing everything of value, he received everything that matters most. Nicodemus gathered in peace of mind, a sense of true and good purpose, a sense of belonging to something greater than oneself. The outcome of his story is somewhat ironic. Nicodemus was firmly entrenched in the establishment of his time. He was famous in his age and country, yet today we only know the names of three of the 71 Sanhedrin. We know Annas and Caiphas, the two who had Jesus executed and we know Nicodemus, the one who anointed and wrapped him up at the tomb. The one who Nicodemus wanted to meet in secret is the one who gave him immortality. God indeed works in mysterious ways. 

Mysterious and often very gentle ways. As John goes on to explain in our passage, God’s Holy Spirit blows where and how it chooses. It moves in people slowly, rapidly, mightily, easily. God refuses to force belief, to mandate faith. Instead, God offers invitation, welcome, and evidence for those with eyes to see it. God sent prophets, then Jesus, then the spirit to serve as guides to faith. He leaves the following to us.

In the book we’re reading for our Lenten series, Marcus Borg speaks of four understandings of faith. He writes on faith as Assensus, which is the intellectual acceptance of a proposition. Here, faith is seen as believing that a statement is true. The second faith understanding is Faith as Fiducia, or Faith as Trust. With this understanding, we don’t have to know how or why God works as he does, we just have to trust he is indeed at work and we need only float on the buoyancy of his grace. 

Faith as Fidelitas or loyalty is the third understanding. This means believers commit themselves wholeheartedly to God. They align their hearts and minds to pleasing God. They put their relationship with God first. What they believe, what they think about God day to day is less important than how they maintain their connection with God – their actions work to shape their faith. 

The fourth understanding is Faith as Visio or world view. This means that believers on their faith walk continually see the world as a good and hospitable place and continually orient themselves to this perspective.   All four of these faith concepts are viable. They all help us make our way to God or to other conclusions. They help us understand that faith is a gift that we’re offered and that it is often presented in stages. Faith is personal and individual. We cannot force it on ourselves. We cannot press it on others. We can’t and God won’t. 

Faith is not a condition or state, it is a decision. We can read the greatest theological tomes of the greatest theological minds. We can wait for the miracles, the big undeniable signs. We can pray for inescapable insight. We can pray and plea that our loved ones will have their minds or their hearts changed. We can work and study, study and work at “getting” faith, but finally faith comes down to a decision - one decision made once puts us on the road to faith. Once on the road, there will be more and more opportunities to decide, to think and access, to trust and float, to commit and perceive. The way of faith is long and unpredictable, but it can only begin with a beginning, a starting point, and the starting place is one of “decision.” 

“I make the choice to believe there is a God active in the world and in my life.” From that choice, all sorts of marvelous and amazing and even scary things follow. 

Sometimes we’re afraid of that choice. Sometimes we come to it at night, in secret, trying it on slowly – just like Nicodemus. We worry about what acceptance will mean for our lives. Will we have to give up things we love? Will we have to change ourselves drastically? Will the faithful life be hard? Will the rewards be worth the sacrifices? What if we believe and follow the example of Jesus, what if we put our trust in God and it turns out He isn’t even real or He is real but isn’t the least bit interested in our existence or worries? What if we put our faith in the wrong place?

The best answer I ever heard to this deep doubt came from the only monk I know. A well-known, intellectual, a scientist schooled in logic and empericial evidence, asked the brother “What if what you believe turns out to be wrong, that there is not God – caring or otherwise.”  

The monk answered, “Well, I’ll be okay with that. I won’t feel like a fool because…I’ve studied all the alternatives. I’ve studied them through and through and I’ve concluded there is no better way to live. At the end of my life, because of my faith, I can die happy and at peace. I put my trust and loyalty, heart and mind into something that took me to a better place. I was a better person because of my faith. I looked beyond myself and my possible selfish interests. I cared about others and in my caring, I made the world a better place. My faith informed my life and my life was lived well. If it was based on a fiction, so be it. It brought me to a good ending, so it must have been a good beginning.”

Faith is a decision. We decide and we put ourselves on a certain road which leads us to a good end. The road is not always easy and is often surprising. The way takes time and patience is required. Patience in faith is a given. Patience with ourselves when we’re in doubt, patience with others whey they’re in doubt or too sure to suit us, and patience with God when the spirit fails to move quick enough, clear enough. 

Patience, a decision – patience, a commitment – patience, this is the way to faith and faith is the way to a rich, good life.

Whether you’re a blues playing saxophonist or a Supreme Court Justice.

In this past modern age with advanced technology and ever-expanding information, diverse belief and emphasized secularism, may we look back with wonder and acknowledge the faith of Nicodemus, a mighty example of “belief-in-progress.” May his journey inspire us well.