John 3:1-17 is read by the liturgist.

[Communion table has a big celtic cross (which is always there),
bowl of ashes (for lent), candle, and a row of misc books.]

A reading from the hebrew scripture: Psalm 121: 1-2

I lift my eyes to the hills
From whence comes my help?
My help comes from God,
who made heaven and earth.

[Amy, who is visiting, gets up from her pew.  Walks to the
communion table.  Shoves all the books onto the floor.  Pauses.
Approaches the large cross.  Moves it to the center of the table.
Returns to her seat]

A reading from the Persian scripture.  The prophet Rumi.

Today, like every other day,
we wake up empty and frightened.
Don't open the door to the study and begin reading.
Take down a musical instrument.
Let the Beauty we love be what we do.
There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

Please pray with me.

God of compassion and grace, open our hearts this morning.  Open
our minds.  Open our spirits to your wisdom.  And may the words
of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable and
pleasing in your sight.  O God, Our rock and our redeemer.  Amen.

     In some ways, Nicodemus is a very typical disciple.  He
comes to Jesus, begins a conversation, and quickly gets confused.
Jesus gets frustrated with him, gives him a lecture, and
presumably sends him on his way.  Nic is a typical disciple, in
that he just doesn't seem to get it.  But Nic is also different.
     We usually talk about the fishermen.  Working class guys
with dirty boats and dirty fingernails.  Whose livlihood is at
the mercy of the elements.  A bad current or a storm on the sea.
Might quickly find them in dire straits.  We talk about the
prostitutes and tax collectors.  Outcasts, grudgingly tolerated
at the margins of acceptable society -- often at the mercy of an
impulsive mob.  And we talk about the lepers and parapalegics.
The sick and the blind.  People who find themselves vulnerable.
At the mercy of their own bodies -- or any able-bodied person who
chooses to take advantage.  We usually talk about people who come
to Jesus in search of restoration, dignity, hope.  And Jesus
reaches out to welcome them, to heal and empower.
     But Nic is different.  He is a devout, well-intentioned man
of privilege and means.  Right with God, respected in the
community.  Nicodemus is at the mercy of no one.  In control of
his own life.  With no concern about where his next meal will
come from. He's a professional class Jew.  Who works in the
Temple.  A scholar and teacher.  A community and religious
leader.
     And he never does drop everything to follow Jesus.  Not in
the way the rest of the disciples appear to.  Joining the throng
in search of miracles or armageddon.  Leaving jobs and family
behind.  Nic remains a devout, well-intentioned man of privilege
and means.  Who continues to go to Temple and sit on the high
council, just as he did before Jesus came.  
     In short, Nicodemus is a lot like us.  Good folks.  Right
with God.  Respected in the community.  Professional class
people.  Scholars and teachers.  Community and religious leaders.
Devout, well-intentioned people of means and privilege.  Jesus
has come and we go back to work.  To sit on committees and do our
jobs.  Nicodemus is a lot like us.
     We meet him in the Gospel of John, right after Jesus clears
the Temple in a rage, weilding a whip, overturning tables.  And
there are oxen and sheep roaming free in the temple.  Money
strewn on the ground, mingled with animal droppings in this
sacred space. A deliberate premeditated act on Jesus part to
shake things up.  For the scripture says, he made the whip of
cords himself.   This takes time and forethought.  This was a
planned disturbance.
     This is not the Jesus I would expect.  This Jesus comes into
our comfortable worlds, jars our expectations. Puts the sacred
places of our lives into chaos.  Jesus rocks our world.  Like
Nicodemus, we go to church and pay our taxes.  We try to do the
right thing and genuinely pray with deep concern for the ways the
world around us seems to be falling apart.  And Jesus comes into
these decent and well-intentioned Temples of our lives and
overturns our tables with rage and diligence.
     The last couple of weeks, I've had a hard time sleeping.  I
go to bed and sleep for maybe 4 hours. Then wake up... Restless.
My mind churns over events of the day.  Estranged relationships.
Jarring circumstances.  And the demands and responsibilities that
the next day may bring.  I lie awake for hours because I am
anxious and preoccupied.  Trying to make sense out of disturbing
situations which feel beyond my control.
     Maybe you've had this experience too.  In the dark of the
night.  The wee hours of the morning.  Anxiety and unresolved
conflicts that keep you awake.  A dream -- or perhaps a reality -
- that leaves you feeling completely out of control.  Or
trembling with fear or grief.
     Well, this Nicodemus is perpetually referred to as the one
who comes to Jesus at night.  And he is often assumed to be a
coward because of it.  A self-serving bureaucrat who sought out
Jesus in secret, when no one else would see.  We attribute a
shrewd political mind, unwilling to commit fully to "the
movement."  We question his character.
     But I'm afraid that Nic and his motivations have been saddly
misunderstood.  Indeed, I think Nic's arrival by night shows a
vulnerability and openness that we should consider carefully.  I
think Nic was in the Temple when Jesus came with his handmade
whip.  And Jesus rocked Nic's world.
     And perhaps Nic laid awake that night.  Sleepless.  Anxious.
Turning over the events of the day.  Preoccupied with this
prophet (or renegade) who made chaos of Nic's life.  Who spoke of
the destruction of his beloved Temple -- destruction of his very
best intentions.  Perhaps Nic was up in the middle of the night
because he was trying to make sense out of this disturbing
confrontation.
     And even if the midnight arrival did represent some
political expediency, it still took a lot of guts.  For a leader
from that same Temple to come to this Jesus of the overturned
tables to listen.  For Nic to put himself in relationship with
someone who had already challenged the very foundations of his
life in a very public way.
     In fact, I think he showed a great deal of courage and
character.  The kind of character that shows up several chapters
later we find Nic confronting his peers on the high council about
their rabid pursuit of Jesus arrest.  Nic puts his own privilege
on the line to speak truth to the powers.
     I think Nic's character beams forth courage and integrity.
For in the end, when Jesus had been crucified and all the
disciples had fled in fear and despair.  In those terrible three
days when "the movement" had been utterly destroyed.  Nic joins
with Joseph of Arimathea to bury Jesus body.  An action which
could have dramatic repurcussions on his livlihood and life among
his peers.  This good Jew contributes over 100 pounds of myrrh
and aloe, to honor the unclean body of an outcast.  100 pounds.
     In that moment when there is nothing to be gained, no crowd
of disciples to join with, no wandering prophet to follow, Nic
risks his reputation to stand with and honor a condemned
criminal, convicted blasphemer and political renegade.  To hold
close the body of a man who has been cast away from his own
people.
     And so as I read this conversation between Jesus and
Nicodemus, I bring this background as our context.  That
Nicodemus is much more like us than we might want to admit.  He
comes to Jesus looking for explanations.  He comes asking
questions, looking for insight and understanding.
     And Jesus words to Nicodemus are a challenge to us as well.
Words that may make us uncomfortable. Do not marvel that I say to
you, "You must be born again."  For, indeed, we must be born
again.  With a radical rebirth -- that shakes the foundations of
the world as we know it.  A rebirth that makes the sacred places
of our lives tremble in fear.
     We must dare to venture out of the safety and security of
the womb where we have been nurtured.  We must be reborn.  To
begin again.  Like a little child.  Vulnerable.  Open.  We must
be born again.  
     In the dark of the night where we struggle with ourselves,
we are invited to relinquish the privilege and control we might
otherwise cling to.  In order to open ourselves fully to the
mysterious movements of an unpredictable Spirit.
     And each morning, we must start again.  Reborn to a new day
and the mystery of what it may hold.  Reborn with nothing to
lose.  And nothing to gain.  But new life to be lived.
     And as I read this conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus,
I hear Jesus turning our world upside down.  Challenging us to
let go -- in order that we might accept this grace freely given.
     "The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of
     it, but cannot tell where it comes from or where it goes.
     So it is with everyone who is born of the spirit."
The Spirit blows where it will and you will hear the sound of it.
You can recognize its presence, but you will not be able to
predict it's coming and going.  And you certainly won't be able
to control it.  The Spirit will surprise you relentlessly and
interminably.  Demanding transformation.
     Jesus says you may not find me in your Temple -- in the
decent and orderly places of your lives.  Instead, look to the
places that trouble you.  You may find me in the dirty gutters of
back alleyways, surviving on scraps of food from trash cans.  In
prisons and mental institutions, challenging your definitions of
propriety.  You may find me in after hours night clubs, reaching
and longing for life.
     I will not ask your forgiveness, when I leave you feeling
disturbed.  You will find me in the deep dark places of your
soul.  I will rock your world.  Get used to it.  Jesus challenges
us to accept this unpredictable Spirit as a gift freely given.
     Jesus confronts Nicodemus in his privilege, "We speak what
we know and testify to what we have seen.  And you...

     [And I would note that this "you" is plural.  Probably in
     reference to the church and political institutions which Nic
     represented in his professional class life]

"We speak what we know and testify to what we have seen.  And you
And you [collectively] have not received our witness."
     Jesus confronts us.  Are we open to the spirit in her many
forms? If we speak from the vulnerability of our experience
rather than from the security of worldly authority, will we be
received?  If we are given a mystical truth that may seem
improbable, illogical, or outrageous, will we still accept it?
Does our faith provoke us to risk reputation to make our way with
misunderstood prophets consumed by the Spirit?  Will we dare to
be powerful, speaking the truth with all our strength, even when
it may be disturbing to peers or authorities?
     Jesus challenges us to receive him even when it is
difficult.  Will we recognize the Spirit moving, when we are
confronted by our own privilege and asked to give up some of our
own power?  Will we receive the witness of those who challenge us
about our own fears?  About the ways we cling to mind games, our
books and doctrines, and all sorts of things that help us feel
comfortable and numb.
     Nicodemus shows us great courage.  Because he took Jesus
challenge to heart.  Without denying or running from his identity
as man of privilege and means, he put it all on the line.  And we
are confronted with a challenge that demands no less of us.  To
be reborn at our very core.  To enter into the mystery of the
journey with vulnerability and openess.  To seek out the Spirit
in unexpected and disturbing places.  And to set aside concern
for our power and privilege if it prevents us from receiving the
full witness of that Spirit.

[singing]
Wade in the Water
Wade in the Water, children,
Wade in the Water
God's gonna trouble the water.

[speaking again]
     The Gospel is as disturbing as it is liberating.  And indeed
God will trouble the waters of our world.  The waters of our
lives.  But let us wade in nonetheless.  And recieve the
blessings and joy that this unpredicatable, irrepressable Spirit
brings.
     We may be misunderstood.  And we will be vulnerable.  But in
this season of Lent, Nicodemus and Jesus both challenge us to
evaluate our middle-class priorities.  To put into perspective
all those things that give us control and privilege.  To be ready
to relinquish them if the time comes to stand with integrity
before the powers of this world.
     And we must let go of any remaining sense of deserving or
earning God's love.  This grace is freely given.  To fishermen
and prostitutes.  To lepers and to us.  Let us give ourselves
over to that passionate embrace fully and completely.  
     And in the morning, when we are empty and frightened.  Cold
and alone.  Let us not run to the study.  To books and papers,
struggling to find answers.  Let us not cling to propriety and
middle-class security.  
     No. Take down a musical instrument.  Sing a joyful song.
Dance in your own living room.  Let the beauty we love be what we
do.  Let the Spirit of Life be that which we cling to.
     For in the dark of the night, dreams and prophets are born.
In the desert places of our souls, fresh living water springs
forth.  In the struggle to love ourselves, we will find peace in
the world.  Indeed, Christ, the human one, who overturns tables,
came not to condemn, but to show us life.  Abundant life.
     Blessed be.  Amen.