SERMON FOR MARCH 8, 2020     SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT     TEXT: JOHN 3:1-17
     The space on my bed is carefully apportioned. The Basset Hound sprawls vertically on the lefthand side. The other dog occupies the foot, lying at right angles to Copper. And the big black-and-white cat parked himself between the two, oozing over a bit onto the narrow strip claimed by the mistress of the house at some point during the night hours. Age and size have their privileges among the parsonage animals. Still there is one little girl cat, Lucy and I call her the Moonpie, who will not be deterred. Sometime during the night she finds her niche, always in the same spot, curled up snugly against my hip in a space so compact that her feet hang over the edge of the bed. It’s a warm, safe place to be, where the big guys don’t even notice her. Moonpie’s contented purr is usually the first thing I hear when I wake up in the morning.
     Last Sunday night the circumstances were different. In preparation for my trip I had delivered the dogs to their respective caregivers over the weekend. And alas, the big black-and-white cat had died earlier in the week. Come bedtime it was just me and Moonpie. She squashed herself against my hip per usual. I tried to coax her into the wide open space to my left. She wouldn’t follow my lead, so finally I picked her up and whisked her to the other side. Her eyes were wide with dismay; she bolted across the bed and disappeared. But when I awoke Monday morning, there she was stretched across the comforter to my left, purring with renewed vigor. The dogs are back home, and now Moonpie is the black-and-white cat who claims space between the two of them. After three years of reticence she has made her move. 
      Not too many weeks ago we read the story of Jesus calling his first disciples, Peter, Andrew and the sons of Zebedee, James and John. “Follow me,” says Jesus, “and I will make you fish for people.” They drop their nets and leave their boat and go with him on the spot. If asked when did Jesus come into their hearts, they could have named the day, date and hour. Their enthusiasm contrasts sharply with Nicodemus’ caution. They ask no questions, express no reservations; Nicodemus, on the other hand, is thoughtful and inquisitive and careful. He has been roundly condemned in some Christian circles. The great Reformation theologian John Calvin denounced him as a coward and a hypocrite. In his opinion Nicodemus waits to come to Jesus at night because he does not want to risk his reputation or pay the price of discipleship. Indeed, Calvin referred to Protestants who kept their reformed faith to themselves as Nicodemites. Rather than boldly confess what they believed and accept the consequences in those dangerous times, they kept their convictions to themselves. They claimed to have seen a great light, but they lived dishonestly under cover of darkness, lest they fall afoul of the authorities.
     But then there are those like myself who think that Nicodemus’ conduct deserves a more charitable interpretation. After all, he appears twice more in John’s Gospel. When his fellow Pharisees are plotting against Jesus, Nicodemus challenges them to act justly. “Our law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing, does it?” he asks (John 7:51). He does not want to silence Jesus; he is open to learning more. Then when Jesus has died, Nicodemus joins with Joseph of Arimathea, whom John describes as “a disciples of Jesus, though a secret one”, to bury him. According to John’s account, “Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews. Now there was a garden in the place where he was crucified, and in the garden there was a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid. And so, because it was the Jewish day of Preparation, and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there” (John 19:39-42). Even at this point, it is not clear to us what Nicodemus believed about Jesus. Maybe it was not clear to him either. Maybe Nicodemus was a guy what takes his time, a disciple in process. Like the bumper sticker says, “Be patient. God isn’t finished with me yet.”
     ”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."  We are followers of Jesus; we are all in motion. Even Peter and Andrew and James and John, who committed themselves to the Lord with nary a second thought, had a lot of growing up and growing deep to do thereafter. Born from above, born anew, born again — however you translate the phrase, the words remind you that you are not yet all God intends you to be, and they promise that one day you will be. Again and again he Spirit takes you by surprise. The movement can disconcert you at first; the new space to which it carries you may be overwhelming. Then it becomes your new normal. We keep looking to Jesus and finding our rightful place in this world that God so loves. Amen.