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Homilies by Rev. Andrew Collis unless indicated otherwise.

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Lent 2, Year A
South Sydney Uniting Church
March 12, 2017

Romans 4:1-17; John 3:1-17

‘Respectful curiosity’

Bob Dylan's "Blowin' In The Wind" is a song about the Wind, Breath or Spirit of God. "The answer, my friend," Jesus might have said to Nicodemus, "is blowin' in the wind". The answer to all manner of questions -- issues of social justice, human rights, ecological and existential crises -- depends on the movement and guidance of Spirit, on inspiration, on stopping to listen for the Word the Spirit brings, on connection to the Spirit-filled world (a world of slight breezes and mighty storms), on relationship in the Spirit, and so on. The question that most interests Nicodemus, however, has to do with rebirth. To borrow another line from the Minnesotan bard: "He not busy being born is busy dying" [Bob Dylan, "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)", 1965]. God be with you ...

Nicodemus' question is "How can an adult be born a second time?" Sometimes it's tempting to hear the question as a question from a fool. What a dolt, we think or say. He doesn't understand the metaphor. He doesn't comprehend the higher meaning. I've gone along with this kind of reading before.

It strikes me now, though, and in light of recent biblical scholarship, that this kind of reading lacks respect -- for Nicodemus, for Jesus, and for ourselves. Do I really think Nicodemus, a religious leader of some years and standing, incapable of recognising a religious metaphor? Do I really think of Jesus as delighting in the art of mockery? Do I really imagine the world in simple terms of timid fools and wise guys?

We might imagine a different view: respectful dialogue. Nicodemus has made a decision to go see Jesus. An educated and decorated community leader, a person with authority and security of tenure, an expert in the ways of religion and culture, ventures by night to visit with a wandering preacher and faith healer. Nicodemus is already busy being born.

Some scholars say he came at night for reasons of fear or secrecy. Others say it was a typical after-work gathering of theologians. There's no hint of disrespect or malice. Perhaps he is just curious. He acts on the strength of his genuine curiosity. He asks questions. He engages. He is open to hearing something new. He is open to change and growth. He is busy being born.

Perhaps that's the very reason Jesus offers the metaphor in the first place. It's an apt thing to say. It's in keeping with the conversation. In other words, these two people of faith may be seen as offering mutual encouragement. Nicodemus certainly draws from Jesus a lengthy [Lenten] discourse on God's love for the world in need of saving (arguably the most well-known gospel utterance). And, reading ahead, Jesus certainly inspires Nicodemus to keep asking questions.

In chapter 7, Nicodemus is a lone witness among the Pharisees and chief priests in defence of Jesus whose downfall they plot and whom they disparage as a "Galilean", a hick, that is, a hillbilly/bumpkin/bogan. Nicodemus refuses to play along. "Since when does our Law condemn anyone without first hearing the accused and knowing all the facts?" he asks. Nicodemus, of course, has heard from the accused and knows at least some of the facts.

In chapter 19, Nicodemus joins Joseph of Arimathea to remove the body of Jesus from the cross. Nicodemus brings "about one hundred pounds of spices, a mixture of myrrh and aloes" so to prepare the body of Jesus for burial.

These public displays of affection, respect and loyalty evince a person very much alive to the presence and purpose of God -- alive to the Spirit of God -- a person, at significant cost and risk, amid hostility and death, busy being born.

He deserves our respect.

After all, he is not so unlike us. "How can an adult be born a second time?" It's actually a very good question.

How can we honour the wisdom and riches of a tradition, collectively and personally, and yet start again? How might we risk everything we know and have become in the name of a deeply respectful curiosity? Can I open my heart and mind -- my very identity -- to the strangeness of others? To change? To newness? To Spirit?

One commentator speaks of rebirth from an upper middle-class culture, a protected and protective culture, into another kind of culture: a "rawness and real-ness" of life with people unafraid of failure and celebration.

Most people, most of the time, go to where they are known -- act on what they already know or think they know. A lot of the time we confuse respect and shows of privacy -- keeping to ourselves and those we think we know best. A lot of the time we're just confused. But sometimes we're inspired to embrace the awkwardness, to improvise, even to enact change. Sometimes a respectful curiosity -- neither idle nor in thrall to idols -- leads to newness, rebirth.

That's one reason that art is important to so many of us. Making and showing art is an act of respectful curiosity (in spite of awkwardness), exploration, expression, connection, integration of various and conflicting passions, courage, communication, even communion. Each of these new works (the Cuts & Clay group show), it may be seen, represents a coming "out into the light" as Jesus says in John 3:21, "so that it may be plainly seen that what they do is done in God".

The invitation to rebirth is earnest and urgent ...

Stanley Spencer's painting of Jesus is one in a series of works entitled Christ in the Wilderness. During Lent we commit to a 40-day sojourn/discipline with Christ in the wilderness, and here the artist depicts Jesus with a hen and her chicks (an image of both Jerusalem and the Church). This is a Jesus at ease in his body, taking time to look and listen, respectful, gentle, curious, contemplative, ready to discern heavenly meanings in earthly signs. Birth. Nurture. New life. In the wilderness, overcoming temptations to evil (to greed, fame and power over others), he, too, is busy being born.

If this is the case for Jesus, how much more so for us?

As believers we are summoned to respectful curiosity, to a continuing conversion, a continual coming out of the pockets of darkness that remain in our lives, the areas of deceit and self-delusion that we erect as barriers to the light and prevent us living fully in the truth that would set us free (John 8:32). Continuing conversion means continual judgement. The good news is that we're called to respectful curiosity, even continual judgement, in the context of a sublime assertion of God's love (John 3:16).

We could conclude in so many ways. One example of time with Christ in the wilderness, however, would seem especially urgent. A case of our facing judgement in the context of a Love urging us to get busy being born (to help bring to birth a new and more sustainable culture). A Climate Council Report published this year confirms that climate change is increasing the frequency, duration and intensity of heatwaves and warm spells.

"Whether or not extreme heat becomes even worse during the second half of the century depends on whether the world, including Australia as one of the 15 largest emitters, can rapidly and deeply reduce greenhouse gas emissions and transition to a carbon-neutral global economy by mid-century" (Climate Council Report, 2017) …

Most people, most of the time, go to where they are known -- act on what they already know or think they know. A lot of the time we confuse respect and shows of privacy -- keeping to ourselves and those we think we know best. A lot of the time we're just confused. But sometimes we're inspired to embrace the awkwardness, to improvise, even to enact change. Sometimes a respectful curiosity -- neither idle nor in thrall to idols -- leads to newness, rebirth.

In silence, let us consider what the Spirit says to us … Amen.

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