Holy Three-In-One!

 

John 3:1-17        

I read someone this week who called Trinity Sunday “Non Sequitur” Sunday. I never thought of it that way, but I kind of like it.

A non sequitur is a statement that doesn’t logically follow from the previous statement. So if you say, “It’s supposed to rain today,” and I respond with, “I like cheese on my macaroni,” that’s a non sequitur.

Kind of like saying God is three; God is one. God is three in one. Because, as Pete said to Everett when Everett told him he him was justified in stealing from Pete’s kin who was fixing to betray them, even though Everett didn’t know that at the time: “That don’t make no sense.”

And if you didn’t follow that, don’t worry. It’s a non sequitur.

Today the lectionary gives us the conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus, the only conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus. Nicodemus skulks over to Jesus in the dark of night, probably to avoid being seen by his pharisaic colleagues. He has some questions stirring his soul, questions that he can only ask Jesus.

Nicodemus knows that the consensus among the Pharisees is that Jesus is a sinner, but Nicodemus sees something different in him. Nicodemus sees that he has something of God in him. No one could do what Jesus does apart from the presence of God. To Nicodemus this is a logical and compelling truth. But it’s not enough, because Jesus is saying and doing so much that conflicts with all that is taught and practiced by the Pharisees. He doesn’t seem to be right with the law of God, but he clearly seems to be of God. And, like Pete said, that don’t make no sense.

Nicodemus goes to Jesus at night in search of something – the key to understanding all of this. But understanding eludes him. We sometimes treat Nicodemus as if he is dull-witted, stuck in the concrete operational stage of cognitive development. We think he is too literal minded, too obtuse. But tell me: what do you think you would say?

Nicodemus says, “I know you came from God.” And Jesus replies, “You need to be born from above.”

Nicodemus says, “How can I do that?” and Jesus says, “The wind blows where it will.”

Nicodemus says, “How can these things be?” and Jesus says, well, he says a whole lot of stuff that don’t make no sense. Ascending and descending from heaven. A serpent in the wilderness. And that God just loved the world sooo much that God gave his only Son to die for it.

It’s like Jesus was speaking in code. And no one gave Nicodemus the decoder manual. Somewhere in the course of Jesus’ soliloquy Nicodemus wanders off, more lost than when he arrived.

And this is Trinity Sunday.

The story of Jesus and Nicodemus says nothing directly about the Trinity. Actually, nowhere in the scriptures do we find anything written directly about the Trinity. But the story of this nighttime visit shows us something about the triune nature of God: That Jesus is from God, is of God. That he is the Son of God, sent to save the world on God’s behalf. And that the essential work of saving the world essentially involves the Holy Spirit.

No one can enter God’s realm without being born of water and Spirit, Jesus says to Nicodemus. In the church, we live out these words in the sacrament of baptism. Whenever we pour the waters of baptism, invoking the names of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, we are bearing witness to our belief that God is here with us; that God is, somehow, three persons who are, in essence, One.

Many brilliant minds have tried to unpack and explain the Holy Trinity – with limited success. We are forever reaching for metaphors to help us understand what is essentially a metaphor itself. A metaphor for something that is beyond our human comprehension; something that, as Pete said, just don’t make no sense.

But there is a certain way to describe the Trinity which says God is the Father and the Son in relationship and the Spirit is the love that flows between them. This love that flows between them is so bountiful that it overflows, and it creates, sustains, and enlivens the world and all who are in it.

The Holy Spirit is how we are drawn in to that relationship; how we are washed in that love.

Yeah, I know, it still don’t make no sense. But, as Everett said in response to Pete, “It's a fool who looks for logic in the chambers of the human heart.” Eventually, we all need to move out of our heads, at least for a moment, and dwell in the heart, bask in the love that flows without bounds.

We might wonder if poor Nicodemus ever got out of his head, ever overcame his profound confusion from this series of non sequiturs. From this story, it’s impossible to know. But you should know that this is not the last we hear from Nicodemus.

A few chapters later, Jesus goes to the temple in Jerusalem and begins teaching, saying some very provocative things. The Pharisees watching are ready to have him arrested. But Nicodemus, who is among them, speaks up. We have not heard him speak since he said, “How can this be,” but now he speaks to the gathered Pharisees, urging restraint. Nothing bad happened that day, and perhaps it was because of Nicodemus.

Again, Nicodemus disappears. We hear nothing more about him – until after Jesus is crucified. A man named Joseph asks permission to take his body down from the cross. He arranges to have it taken to a tomb. And Nicodemus, the man who first came to Jesus under cover of darkness, brings a hundred pounds of myrrh and aloe to give his body a proper burial.

Did that cloud of confusion ever lift from Nicodemus? Did he manage to get out of his head just enough to trust what he was beginning to know in his heart? Perhaps. The wind blows where it will, as Jesus said, and some of it might have blown over Nicodemus.

May you feel the wind blow gently upon you. May you listen with your heart as well as your head. May you be sustained and enlivened by the overflowing love of God.