Look for the Helper

I confessed in my last sermon that I love to follow the rules. I like routine.

It might be due to the fact that I’m a first born. I know this doesn’t hold true for everyone, but some generational scholars point out that first-borns have the characteristics of being reliable, conscientious, structured, cautious, achievers who want to excel at everything.[1] This is largely true for me. I want to be seen as these things.

I work hard. I want to achieve. I’ve got a drive within. It’s where I get approval. I like to feel like I’m pulling my own weight. Yet there is a trap in this way of thinking. I can think that whatever life I create and whatever love I get are only what I myself can conjure up.

The scriptures today offer the image of God as our keeper. Always hearing, always present. Nicodemus, a Pharisee who comes to Jesus for advice in the middle of the night must have been a first born. There’s no way of knowing, Nicodemus is only mentioned three times in scripture, and only in John. There’s today’s night meeting with Jesus, which Bible scholar Ben Witherington calls “Nick at Night” to help his students remember the encounter.[2] Later, Nicodemus reminds the Pharisees that under Jewish law, Jesus should be granted a hearing before he’s condemned. Some think that this shows that Nicodemus was a powerful Pharisee, a member of the Sanhedrin, the Jewish ruling council. Finally, Nicodemus brings ointments to assist in Jesus’ burial.

Other than that, we don’t know much about Nicodemus. Much has been made about this man. To blacks after the Civil War, he was a model of rebirth as they sought to cast off their old identity as slaves. For sports fans, he’s the reason John 3:16 is at each and every game. For Evangelicals, he’s why they get fired up about being born again. For other Christians, he’s a bad Christian who didn’t live his faith in the light.[3] Much has been made about this meeting. There are many interpretations of Nicodemus. So much has been made of him.

Yet I’m stuck on that first-born thing. I just know Nicodemus was a first born. Nicodemus has followed all the rules. He’s a respected member of his faith. He’s learned. He’s achieved. He’s even a member of the Jewish ruling council. This guy is no slouch! But he goes to Jesus in the middle of the night because he has to know. He has to meet this Galilean who is gathering so many crowds. This homeless rabbi who is teaching some radical things and doing some amazing signs that can hardly be believed!

Nicodemus heads out at night because he doesn’t want his community to get the wrong impression. He doesn’t know if he supports this Jesus-guy or not. He needs some answers to his questions.

Nicodemus who has done everything HE can do, yet he’s still looking for love. Looking for a tangible connection with God. Jesus said that he must be “born of the Spirit.” Born again. It’s not all up to Nicodemus!

It’s not all up to simply doing the right thing. It is about allowing the Spirit to help birth love in our lives, having faith that the Spirit of God is always present, urging us to choose love.

Nicodemus is looking for love in all the wrong places. He’s looking at only his own structure. He’s cautious with his love. He understands what he controls. What he can achieve. But that can lead him so far from God. I know he did this because I did this. I knew the rules of my faith. I was well structured in my life and how I followed my faith. I had been burned by people, so I was and am cautious with my love. I wanted to be and still want to be in control.

I knew the rules. I followed them. I was like the older brother in the story of the prodigal son. I stayed at home. I did my duty. I did what was expected of me. I knew who was in and who was out. I wasn’t mean, at least in my perspective. I knew Catholics were going to land at worst in purgatory. Protestants at best would land in purgatory. Gay folk were bad. Adulterers were bad. The Bible was the word of God and only the priests and cardinals and pope could give the proper reading of what it all meant. I knew the rules. But I didn’t know the Spirit. My heart drifted away from God. Two examples of what I mean.

Next door growing up was a family who was poor. I mean, I was poor, but I was the poor you could hide. This was the poor that you couldn’t hide. The kids were grimy. The house in disrepair. Every so often one of the parents would show up at the door asking for food, or some water because theirs was shut off. Did my heart break for them? Did I befriend them and be best friends and help them achieve like I could? No. I judged them. I used the rules against them.

A friend was having a crisis of faith when we were in high school.  He was mourning the death of his grandma. I knew this family didn’t go to church. They had no faith to speak of. He came to me, knowing that I was very religious. He asked if I thought his grandma was in a better place. Did my heart break for him? Did I give him comforting words? No. I judged him. I used the rules. I told him, “Sorry, only believers get in.”. Saying that now hurts.

Older siblings are often like second parents. We enforce the rules to the younger, more wayward siblings. Nicodemus was like that. It’s why he met at night. It’s why he was looking for the rules from Jesus. Instead Jesus has no interest in his rules or giving a straight answer. “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 born of the Spirit.”

What we religious often miss is that this is not really about belief. It’s about values. My mentor the Rev. Jan Linn makes this argument in his new book. He says that we often believe that traditional Christian teaching is focused on right beliefs while the life and teachings of Jesus were all about right living. Jesus said much more about right values than he did right beliefs.[4]

What I slowly found was that my religion was all about belief. It became a “no true Scotsman fallacy.” This is a fallacy that appeals to purity. It makes a huge generalization and ignores all evidence. Usually it goes like this, “”No Scotsman puts sugar on his porridge.”
Person B: “But my uncle Angus is a Scotsman and he puts sugar on his porridge.”
Person A: “But no true Scotsman puts sugar on his porridge.”

What I’ve found is that I was on the wrong side with my interpretation of the Catholic faith. No true Catholic thinks Protestants go to heaven. What about MLK? No true Catholic comes from a broken home. Wait… What about me? No true Catholic thinks women should be ordained. Why not? No true Catholic would allow the abuse of children. Well, what about all those bishops?

Slowly I found myself on the outside of the rules. And many religious folk have found their way out of the church that they love and tried to follow because No true Christian believes in evolution. What about all those scientists or biology students coming home from college? No true Christian can be gay or love gay folk. Wait a second… No true Christian believes in racism or white supremacy. Well, what about that Christian organization known as the KKK?

The rules aren’t enough. We might not get it when we first hear it. It takes time for a phrase to work its magic on us. But when that happens, it can feel like you’re born again. Made new. Inspired. Fired up.

I was in high school when I began losing my religion. Kate brought me to her Methodist church which mentioned current events, quoted King and other scholars, and the people were very warm and welcoming. I was excited to show her the TRUE worship and after Catholic Mass, Kate cried. Nothing was explained, you either knew the responses or you didn’t. She didn’t know when to sit down or stand up or kneel. And no one, not a single person greeted her. It was cold and informal; based on rules she knew nothing about.

In college, I lost my religion entirely. The helpers showed up. It was an atheist who brought comfort and would talk philosophy and values. It was a Muslim who taught me some of his religion and invited me to work in the food pantries. It was a Buddhist who taught me how to meditate and pray. It was a Hindu who taught me the value of metaphor and taking sacred stories seriously but not literally.

All this led to the United Church of Christ where a gay minister brought me back to Christ. He was a former Catholic and a Jungian psychologist. He knew what I was struggling against. He knew my image of God. God as this wrathful, angry, hateful person who would smite anyone who would step out of line. Immediately damning whole swaths of people, that’s what I was carrying. And the Rev. Bill Federici taught me that God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Not to condemn, but to save the world.

I loved the darkness. I loved that I knew who was in and who was out. I loved being in my own bubble without having to learn the stories of people unlike me. In my bubble, I could assume everyone was exactly like me and I didn’t have to listen or learn. What I found is that I knew the rules and I could follow them, but I could not follow the Spirit. I could not follow the God-in-Christ who showed up and hung out with all the wrong people. Whose harshest words were for those like Nicodemus…. Those like me… who would condemn without learning or sitting with others.

As the band REM sang in their famous song, “Oh life… is bigger. It’s bigger than you, and you are not me…” So we must listen to each other, and help one another understand our stories. I must look for the helper. And the helper doesn’t often fit the stereotype.

The helper in these recent days has looked like you. In this past time of stress, your words and phone calls and notes have sustained me. The helper looks like Kate who calmly and coolly advised and prayed with me. Spoke with me at length. The helper looks like Facebook posts and texts. The helper looks like my children, who were unfazed by this whole thing. “Oh, you’re on the front page again! Cool!”

But I don’t want to be on the front page. “Well why not?!” Wait… are my kids quoting John 3 to me? The it is the evil who hate the light so that their deeds may not be exposed, but those who do what is true so that it may clearly seen that their deeds come from God? Is that what all this means? And a child shall lead them…

I love the saying from the sage Mr. Rogers:, “When I was a boy and would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

You have helped me stand in the light. Stand for the value of inclusion for Jesus was put to death not by those whom he excluded but those whom he included. He was put to death because of his good news to the poor, of liberating the oppressed. Of setting the prisoner free. He did not come to abolish all the rules but to fulfill them. And that’s what he did. My hope is in a first-born son. Not the Nick-at-Night version of people who know all the rules and quote all the bible verses and still do harm to people. My hope is in the first born son of Mary. The Word of God, the Word Made Flesh, Jesus our Christ who came to save out of love.

And Nicodemus responds. He is there at the end of the story. Standing in the light. Helping bury his savior, his teacher. Helping Jesus’ friends bury the body, only to be surprised by the resurrection.

For the rule of life is that the dead stay dead…. But Jesus doesn’t really care about the rules, now does he? Thanks be to God.

Works Cited

[1] Valerie M. Hudson, Birth Order of World Leaders: An Exploratory Analysis of Effects on Personality and Behavior, Political Psychology, VOL 11, No 3, (Sep., 1990), pp. 583-601. And Jenny Brown Growing yourself UP: How to bring your best to all of life’s relationships. Page 38-39.

[2] The Lazarus Effect: The First Art West Adventure. Page 147.

[3] https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/on-faith/nicodemus-the-mystery-man-of-holy-week/2013/03/27/0e97fb04-9720-11e2-a976-7eb906f9ed9b_story.html

[4] Unbinding Christianity Choosing the Values of Jesus over the Beliefs of the Church

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