Sermon

June 11, 2006

A Sermon Preached at St. Stephen’s on June 11, 2006, by the Rev. Cork Tarplee

The island of Key West , Florida , lures a lot of visitors to enjoy its tropical climate and tropical foliage and its laid-back island lifestyle characterized by a nightly celebration of the sun’s setting. Key West tour guides report that they get a lot of questions from visitors. Some questions are not so swift, like: “Excuse me, but does the ocean go all the way around the island?” And, “Dang, we missed the show. What time’s the next sunset?” Some questions are worth asking, like the one from the little boy riding by the Banyan Resort where a Banyan tree has spread across a driveway—one tree sending down shoots from an arching limb so that a second huge trunk has grown up in the neighboring yard. The boy wanted to know, “Is that one tree or two?” Good question. I don’t know the answer. All I can say is that it is wonderful to see and that it says something about the interconnectedness of things, and about the tree’s creative drive for survival.

Jesus encounters a religious tourist in the Gospel this morning. I think he makes a pretty good stand-in for all of us when we are in our detached mode looking at religion from the outside because we, too, are then religious tourists. The man’s name is Nicodemus, and when he isn’t sneaking around at night trying to find out about the new rabbi in town, Nicodemus is a respected religious scholar. He apparently wants to know more about Jesus, and like a lot of knowledgeable people, he begins his conversation with what he knows or thinks he knows. “We know that you come from God because of you do wonderful things that could only be done by God.” Jesus takes that intellectual opening and uses it to comment on what the intellectual insight says about Nicodemus’ interior growth: “You can only see God working in the world,” Jesus says, “because you have been spiritually reborn.” Nicodemus is caught off guard and takes the metaphor of birth literally. “Don’t be amazed,” says Jesus, “God’s spirit changes things in the world, just like the wind does. It, too, is invisible, but you can see the effects of it on the lives it touches.” Nicodemus, who started out in such confidence, talking about the things “we know,” is reduced to uncertainty: “How can these things be?” he wonders. Jesus answers, in essence, “I am here to change people’s lives.”

Jesus’ conversation with the religious tourist moves from intellectual understanding, to personal transformation, and then from personal transformation to the transformation of the world. If you can see God’s hand at work in the world through the things people are doing, then God has already touched your life, giving you fresh eyes and new possibilities. And if God is touching your life, renewing you, then God is already changing the world through you. What’s missing in Nicodemus’ intellectual analysis of Jesus’ mission is Nicodemus’ personal involvement. Nicodemus needs to take it personally and then he needs to do something to help God change the world.

The same is true for us religious tourists. Here on Trinity Sunday, if we are of an intellectual bent we might begin by wondering if God is three or one, just like the kid who wondered if the Banyan was one tree or two. But for us, as for Nicodemus, understanding is less important than personal involvement. God moves in historical events, in the freeing of slaves in the Exodus and in the events of Jesus’ life. God moves in personal transformation, in taking people like Isaiah and Nicodemus and giving them the courage to speak out. God moves in the interactions between people when we are impelled to stand up for someone who is oppressed or to heal someone who is broken or lonely. God moves in these and other ways, and while they may leave us scratching our heads wondering, “How can this be?” they also call us to personal transformation and to action.

The later history of Nicodemus, the religious tourist, suggests that his contact with Jesus did transform him. When Jesus is arrested and brought before the Sanhedrin, Nicodemus is the only voice of reason who calls for a fair and impartial trial. And finally, after the crucifixion, it is Nicodemus who provides the spices to anoint Jesus’ body—at a considerable cost in money and a considerable risk to his own standing. At the end, the man who came to Jesus wondering what he was all about, was willing to risk money and status to give Jesus honor.

I think our encounters with Jesus can be like that. They may begin with us scratching our heads wondering, “how can this be?’ and end with us reborn and rolling up our sleeves to do God’s work in the world. In a Parade Magazine article a few years back TV actress Wendie Malick explained how she happened to get started with the social activism that led her to form a private foundation called “A Drop in a Bucket” devoted to bringing medical services to Mexico and the Congo . It was in the late 80’s when she was already a successful model and actress, but somehow vaguely dissatisfied. A friend called her and said, “I’m going on this trip with the Brentwood Presbyterian Church. We’re building houses in Tijuana . Why don’t you come work with us.” Malick tried to put her off. “I’m not a Presbyterian and I’m not a builder. I don’t know what I can do to help.” But the friend insisted, “Show up and get dirty. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

It is human to want to understand, human to want to stand back and observe, but God is in the personal involvement. Sometimes the good news we are looking for can best be found when we “show up and get dirty.” AMEN