The Fourth Sunday of Lent

Sermon

The Fourth Sunday of Lent

10 March 2024

The Reverend Dr James Gardom

Numbers 21.4-9; Ephesians 2.1-10; John 3.14-21.

I must admit that I’m not particularly drawn to tragedies, at least in fiction. When I look at the paperbacks with their eye-catching one word hooks, I often see “Harrowing”, “Haunting”, “Terrifying”, and I find, that for some reason, I don’t want to be harrowed, haunted or terrified.

I was tutor some years ago to the English Literature students and dreaded the “Tragedies paper”. The entire cohort would begin to understand their lives in tragic terms, and I would encourage them to read PG Wodehouse. But year by year I myself, and we together, prepare ourselves, through Lent, to be present to the cross. We make strenuous efforts to bring this death into focus, to make real to ourselves the harrowing, haunting, terrifying reality of the crucifixion. We re-enact the foot washing. We meditate for three hours on the cross. We process, we watch. This year, our reflections and perceptions will be intensified by Malcolm’s Guite’s poetry, and we aim, collectively, to walk the way of the Cross. Why?

Today’s gospel is the second half of the visit to Jesus of Nicodemus. We are in the opening sections of John’s gospel, the middle of chapter three. I think that the gospel, and particularly the figure of Nicodemus, help us to understand why it is so important for us to grasp this tragedy, this violent death, and allow ourselves to be changed by it. Clearly something is astir. Jesus has performed two signs, and in John’s gospel each of the seven signs represents crucial turning points in his ministry. We have had, the wedding feast at Cana in Galilee. This is a miraculous sign with a strong hint of the end times, the great banquet that will celebrate the completion of God’s purposes. It is notable that it performed in an obscure place, and for a poor couple. We have had the cleansing of the temple. Jesus drives out the money changers, last week’s reading. This is no miracle, but the cleansing of the temple was definitely an expectation for the end times.

In reaction to the stirrings Nicodemus has come to Jesus by night. He is a troubled man. He is definitely taking a risk, as a man of high status – when last heard of Jesus was in the Temple with a whip, driving out money changers. Nicodemus calls Jesus “Rabbi” which is the lowest title of respect in John’s Gospel – the beginner’s term, so to speak. He is at the beginning of faith, if at all. In return, Nicodemus  is presented with three connected riddles which we can understand, (because we know the whole story) and he cannot, because he does not.

The riddle of the lifted serpent.

The riddle of the Son of God, who is given and believed.

The riddle of Judgement by light.

We can sense Nicodemus’ bafflement. It is only chapter three! He cannot possibly understand. He cannot know, as we know, that whenever John’s gospel talks about about being lifted up, it is talking about the cross. The riddle of the lifted serpent looks back to the passage from Numbers read this morning. When the Israelites in the wilderness were bitten by snakes, they could look at an image of a snake raised high on a pole and be healed. In this riddle, the raised-up image that heals is the crucifixion. And indeed, crucifixion is a truly strange, potent, kind of glorification.

The second riddle of the Son of God who is given and believed, can only be understood when you have understood the first riddle. The exalted image that can heal is not a serpent. It is God’s son. Understand this riddle and you understand what the strange gift from God is, and what this strange new route to eternal life turns out to be – We must have Faith in the Son, given through God’s love.

The third riddle can only be understood if you have grasped the first two. It is the riddle of Judgement by light. We have received healing by gazing at the crucified/exalted Christ, and we have understood that this crucified/exalted one is God’s son.  He becomes our light. Painfully, because there is much darkness in us, but inexorably, we are drawn to the light, we come to the light, we order and understand ourselves in relation to this light. In the very act of coming close, or drawing away, we enact our own judgement.

At this point in the gospel Nicodemus can only have a vague sense of what all this means, and he disappears back into the night, without further comment. It is hard not to feel for him as he makes his lonely way home, with more questions than answers. But by God’s grace, we know the whole story, and the meanings of this interconnected riddle. And so, we drag ourselves into the presence of the cross, because we find that contemplating Christ crucified, putting our faith in Christ crucified, and bringing our lives into the light of Christ crucified changes us, and our relationship with God. It is our salvation.

Over Holy week shall be actively contemplating the Cross, actively renewing our faith in the Son, actively trying drag ourselves a little closer to the light, so that we are filled with light. Over Holy Week, we come to Christ, the Captain and Pioneer of our Salvation, the Sacrifice, the Ransom, The Good Shepherd, the Teacher, the Intercessor, the Victor, the Veil Tearer, the Sacrament, the Healer, the Harrower of Hell, the First born of many children, the Sure Foundation, the Pain Bearer, the Resurrection, and the Life. We meditate on dozens of overlapping rich and profound scriptural ways of understanding how the cross achieves our salvation and our healing, our involution in the divine love. They fill our hymns and our readings, our thoughts, and our imaginations, and we are transformed by them.

But Nicodemus did not just meditate. He saw. What happened to Christ in that first Holy Week happened in his presence.

Nicodemus reappears at the end of the gospel, after the crucifixion, with 100lbs of spices for the burial. There can be no more public way for this man to show that he understands Jesus’ death as the most precious thing. The riddles have become clear. He has found his saviour. Here is a man healed by the Cross, putting his faith in the Son of God, coming to the Light.

Nicodemus’ Journey is our journey. Year by year. 60, 70, 80, 90 times if we are so fortunate, we make the journey from the riddle to the reality, opening our hearts and allowing ourselves to be changed and enlightened by the meditation. Each year is a time of salvation, a step on our journey towards the light.

May it be so for me, you and for all of us once again,  this Holy Week.