A few weeks ago I told you that this is trout season. Most Saturdays this time of year I’m out fly fishing. Saturdays are also the days when I’m thinking through my sermon for the next day, usually looking for that one last sermon illustration. So I told you there might be some overlap between sermons and fishing stories for a while.
Today is no exception. Yesterday I was thinking about what it means to be curious. I meant spiritual curiosity, but I started to think about what I was doing at the moment. So much of fishing involves finding the fish, and that is often harder than it sounds.
Once they have found a good fishing spot, a lot of people won’t share it with you. And so, you have to find your own. So you look around at these quiet, shallow creeks full of rocks and plants, with not a fish to be seen, and you think to yourself, “there’s nothing there”.
But sometimes, you try anyway. You put your line in the water, and lo and behold, a fish pops up. And you marvel at the fact that the fish was there the whole time, in this piece of water that you maybe drive by every day, and all it took was enough curiosity to try.
I tell you that story because I believe in the power of curiosity, and today’s story is one about what it means to be curious. It all revolves around a man named Nicodemus. Nicodemus was a Pharisee, a religious authority, and Jesus was not well-loved by the Pharisees. They were trying to find ways to discredit him and reduce his growing influence, which they felt was a threat to their own power.
But Nicodemus was starting to get curious. There was something about Jesus that made him ask the big questions. And so, one night he decided to put his line in the water. He had to be careful, he couldn’t let his Pharisee friends see, and so he snuck out in the dead of night and went to find Jesus.
He probably woke Jesus up. But Jesus, being a better person than I, talks to him. Nicodemus says, “I know you’ve got to be a teacher from God…how else would you know all you know…but who are you.”
And Jesus, as usual, doesn’t give a straight answer. Jesus starts talking about being “born from above” or “born again”. And Nicodemus has no idea what he’s saying. He’s like, “Am I supposed to go back in my mother’s womb, Jesus?” But Jesus starts to explain what it means to be spiritually reborn, to have something new happen inside of you.
Now, where I come from, a lot of people talk about being “born again”. I got asked so many times growing up whether I had been “born again”. And I had friends who had these amazing stories about how they had been born again. They’d tell you the exact moment when their lives had changed and they had quote “accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior”.
That always confused me, because I never had one big moment like that. Instead, I had a lot of little moments. I had times when I got curious, and I opened myself up to the big questions that were brewing inside of me. Those questions got me into books, and into conversations, and later into church. Slowly curiosity opened the way for me to come to know God. Like Nicodemus in the night, I cautiously approached Jesus, and started to wonder whether he might be worth following.
I think that’s how it is for many of us, especially if we are the kind of people who are cautious but curious. Our particular religious tradition teaches us that it’s not only okay to ask big questions, but it’s actually a good thing. We don’t believe in leaving our brains at the church door.
And yet, I am struck by the fact that if you are here, your curiosity somehow brought you to those church doors, and right through them. That’s not true of everyone. You are here because God is working in you, helping you to be spiritually reborn again and again and again. And so long as you remain curious, so long as you remain open to wonder, your rebirth will not stop.
That’s one reason why our sermons this summer are going to be inspired by your questions. If you are here, in this church, you probably have questions. And so, this is a chance to get curious, to put your line in the water, and to go just a little further in your spiritual rebirth. So please, fill out those forms. Ask the questions that keep you up at night. I’m not Jesus…that’s for sure…but I’ll do my best to be a companion on the journey, trying to wrestle with these questions with you. Because we are all Nicodemuses in some ways.
That’s good news. And that’s also unsettling news. And I mean “unsettling” in the best possible way. Because it means we will be forced out of our settled places – we will be unsettled – and made to evolve spiritually…just like Nicodemus was.
Martin Luther King once used the story of Nicodemus to talk about being born again. He said that Jesus hadn’t given Nicodemus easy instructions or said “stop doing this” or “stop doing that”. Instead, Dr. King said, Jesus told Nicodemus “your whole structure must be changed”. This was nothing less than a total shake-up.
Dr. King was talking specifically about how America had to be “born again” and deal with injustice. And that’s a good example of how we as people, and as institutions and communities, must also sometimes be born again, and do what is right and what is good, for the love of God and for the love of the world.
On this Memorial Day weekend, I’m thinking about that, and I’m thinking about what it means to be an unsettled American Christian. I grew up in a deeply patriotic family full of people who gave their whole lives to military or government service. I’m in many ways the exception in my family in that I chose to serve the church instead.
But I remain a believer in the American experiment. That doesn’t mean that I’m naive, though. I believe in this country’s potential to be better. I loved my country even when I had to file my federal taxes as a single person despite the fact I wore a wedding ring on my left hand, but I knew that the work of this country being spiritually reborn again and again was not over.
I’ve been thinking about that this week as we prepare to help welcome a family of refugees to New Hampshire. I am so struck by the courage this family is showing. To be legally designated as a refugee is a high bar. It means that they are fleeing something so horrible that coming to this country, a place where they no know one and have no connections, is worth leaving everything behind.
There are real risks. That’s why it cannot be shared publicly where they are from, how many are in the family, or when they will arrive. Right now they are preparing for an incredibly dangerous journey. And right now, they are probably asking themselves, “Will America be worth it?”
I hope the answer is “yes”. I fear that there will be nights when they question it. We are in a time in this country, this country that is populated by so many of us who are the great-grandchildren of immigrants, where xenophobia is at a new peak. The irony should not be lost on us.
And yet, there are signs that curiosity can indeed bring change. There are signs of hope.
About eighteen months ago, when it became clear that immigrants and refugees were facing new attacks in our country, people started asking me about whether the church would respond somehow. A few wanted to know if we could sponsor a refugee family. Eventually we got all of the people who were asking in one room, and they started trying to figure out what we could do.
They didn’t know anything about the system. They didn’t know about resettlement agencies or others who might want to help. They didn’t know what it would involve. And yet, here we are, ready to help our first family to move to this state. All because we were unsettled enough to get curious. All because we were willing to throw our line into the water.
The last time we see Nicodemus in the Gospels is when he dares to help bury Jesus. Nicodemus is there at the end for Jesus, even when Christ’s own disciples had fled in fear. In the end we see that Nicodemus had indeed been reborn.
On this Memorial Day, I see what our church is doing as an indication that maybe we are being reborn as people and as citizens. I think of our ancestors in this church who took stands like this over the past four centuries, and I think about how maybe their questions and curiosities, their daring, are the things that have kept this church alive and evolving for so many years.
And I think about us, about our call to be followers of Christ, and about our call to transform not just our own lives but also our communities, our country, and our world. I believe it is possible, but I also believe it will take good, curious people who are open to having their lives shaken up.
And so, what will your Nicodemus moment be? What big questions or possibilities are keeping you up at night? And how un-settled are you willing to be if it means that you might just be reborn, and the world might just be better for it? Christ is waiting for your curiosity, and Christ is ready to use it. Put your line in the water, and get ready for what’s about to bite.