Lent 2, Year A

Genesis 12:1-4a  • Psalm 121  • Romans 4:1-5, 13-17  • John 3:1-17

Did you ever have an elaborate secret handshake as a kid? Or a password to get into a clubhouse? Was there criteria for who got the code, or a list of those who are in and those who are out? How was it established? We pay lots of money to be part of clubs—and when I say we, it is definitely the general we…I have only ever set foot in country clubs for funerals—but it’s to know that we are part of the group admitted “in” versus those who are stuck keeping their tennis matches to neighborhood parks. There are sororities, fraternities, elite organizations for smarty pantses like MENSA, gangs, and churches. It’s part of the way we tend to relate to one another, we find people who will count us “in” and rejoice at the insider status we have once we’ve attained it.

All this is great, of course, until you’re not on the list for the exclusive club. I remember in 6^th grade, while attending new school in a new district, I was asked not to hang out with the group of girls in my class by the ring leader because I was making them “look bad.” I had never seen the list of requirements to hang out with Kelly, but it was made abundantly clear that I did not meet them.

The early church was grappling with this sense of belonging, and who would be counted in and who would be counted out. Paul’s letter to the Romans is written to a people who were living in the metropolis of an empire. These are no unwashed masses, but instead we can imagine that they are urbane, cultured, and probably kinda opinionated about what that means for them versus the rest of the roman empire, especially as it sprawled and pick up every kind of ethnicity and social status along the way. As tension among once-exiled, but now returning Jews and gentiles is growing, the message of Christ is also spreading. So then it comes to asking, just who is in this club and who is out?

Paul is aware of this, and so his letter to the romans has to carefully toe the line, knowing that the faith he is nurturing comes out of Judaism, but there are many new people who were not raised in Jewish tradition, whose bloodlines are not traced back genealogically to Abraham, and so the law and the in-group status grantd by jewish heritage does not appeal or apply to them. He doesn’t want to further alienate the Jews among them, however, and so a discussion of faith versus “law” is necessary to ease tension, and to keep the Romans from doing the thing that feels the most natural in situations like this—to separate and figure out who is covered under Christ’s umbrella. In this morning’s reading we heard Paul reference our Genesis text, in which Abram is told to leave his home and family, and on faith head out to wherever God sends him. In return Abram will be blessed—but not only will Abram be blessed, but all of the families of the earth will also receive this blessing.

Paul is working to get everyone on board with loosening the membership restrictions. Yes, he says, of course the Jewish people have a place in this club, but maybe don’t brag about your lineage as the sole reason for your belonging. This is the whole “works” piece. This is the law side. Yep, the descendants of that faithful ancestor Abraham have a birthright, but faith itself is what opens the membership to literal descendants of Abraham as well as those who become descendants by belief. Paul’s words are, “For this reason it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his descenants, not only to the adherents to the law,but also to those who share the faith of Abraham…”

In today’s Gospel, we are confronted with two concepts that have become an in-club/out-club delineator, and we see them used in our modern context pretty frequently. They are quick, easy snippets that fit nicely on t-shirts and coffee mugs and bumper stickers. They’re so prevalent, especially in more evangelical contexts, that we may have even been surprised when they showed up in this strange story about a nighttime visit to Jesus by Nicodemus. Born Again and John 3:16 have a life of their own, and function culturally in America on a different plane, separate from the pericope into which they’re nestled. To say “born again” there is a line between those who use that particular language and those who don’t to denote who has made it into the in-crowd with Jesus. What is fascinating is that the idea of being born again comes from the mouth of Nicodemus, not Jesus. Nicodemus in this morning’s text has come by cover of night. There is an implicit understanding that this visit could cost Nicodemus his own standing within his social circle, and so this is not an encounter that can happen in broad daylight out in the streets. But Nicodemus is seeking. He senses there is more, and he’s reaching out to Jesus to find out what that “more” might be. The very first thing Jesus says to him, he misunderstands. Jesus tells Nicodemus that one must be born from above in order to see the Kin-dom of God. Nicodemus is confused, and wants to know how—HOW? Look, I’m an older guy. I’m not quite fresh-from-the-womb material here. I’m also bulky and have adult-sized limbs, and my mom isn’t really going to appreciate having to carry me in her womb in this way…

He is very literal about being “born again”.

But that isn’t what Jesus asked of him. Jesus has asked him to be born from spirit, and water. To be born from above. And birth is a painful, messy, beautiful process. Ask any doula and they’ll tell you that it is impossible to know the exact way a birth will go. Will this be a quick labor? Will it last 40 hours? Will the water break on it’s own, or will there be a need for medical assistance? Will there be complications? Or, ugh, meconium? A c-section? Even though there are ways to prepare and react to each of these scenarios, they are different from birth to birth.

Being born of the spirit is like this. Not everyone will reach this point the same way. For some the labor is long, there is more pushing, deep breaths will be needed to sustain and ground you the process because it is painful. The spirit has a lot of work to do from within to form us before we are ready for birth.

The other nugget from this pericope is John 3:16. We all know it well. “For 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 light.” There is a definite “us and them” to John 3:16, though, right? Those who believe won’t perish, which means that those who don’t, well, sorry y’all. In order to avoid this, we have to take 3:16 and 3:17 together. They should not ever be separated, taking one without the other is deliberately creating clubhouse rules. John 3:17 continues, “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

Oh.

To separate 16 and 17 is to condemn the world on God’s behalf. To keep them intact is to remember that Jesus isn’t only for some folks, and belief isn’t a secret handshake or password that will open up the pearly gates. The whole world is under the umbrella of who Jesus came to save. This si not a missionary-conquest call to make everyone convert. This is just salvation by being part of the world. This is “all the families of the earth.” This is for those who are quciky, easily, and painlessly born again, and for those who have long, messy, painful, births in the spirit, who after all the pushing and Lamaze might even start out a little jaundiced at first. It covers the whole spectrum, including those who never go into labor. God is compassionate. God is loving. Jesus was not here only to be used as a golden ticket to be admitted to some Willy Wonka heaven. We’re all on the list of those to whom God is a benevolent patron, we all have access, no matter who we are, or where we are on life’s journey, even if we’re showing up at Jesus’ door by the cover of night. And that is the good news this morning.