In the name of God- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Domine ivimus. Those words are a fairly
recent discovery at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. This church
is built over the places where Jesus was crucified and rose again on Easter
morning. Archeologists were exploring the foundations of the church via fiber
optic cables and found some graffiti on a wall. Now, normally graffiti is not a
welcome sight, but this one was, as it dates back to the early 4th
century. There is a drawing of a boat, and below it the Latin words domine ivimus, meaning “Lord, we went.”
We
don’t know who left this graffiti, but likely they had come from a long way to
do so. The picture of the boat makes us think they sailed there, and the Latin
indicates that they came not from the local area, but from Europe. And they
make such a simple statement, domine
ivimus, as if to say “Lord, we made it! Here we are, O Lord!” These early
pilgrims were traveling in a time when Christians were fed to lions for sport,
when such a long journey meant taking months away from home and work, when
traveling that distance was full of dangers and challenges. But they went, and
they made it.
When
I read our passage from Isaiah earlier this week, reading the question posed by
God- “whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” and the corresponding
response “here I am; send me,” I immediately thought of that holy graffiti. Two
great proclamations of faith “Lord, here we are” and “here I am”- but I began
to wonder “where is here?”
This
passage from Isaiah is a very well known one, often being read at ordinations.
We read it today because today is Trinity Sunday and this is one of the
Biblical passages that points to the idea of the Trinity, though it certainly
doesn’t said it plainly. The song of the seraphim should also seem familiar, as
it is the sanctus that we sing in the
middle of the Eucharistic prayer. God has a job that needs to be done, and God
needs a messenger, a doer for this task. St. Augustine once said that “without
God, we cannot; without us, God will not” and so it is. God has a vision, a
plan, a hope for redeeming Israel and all the world. But God will not do it
alone, as God empowers the creatures to take a part in constantly re-creating
the Creation.
Today,
that same question still beckons from on high- “whom shall I send, and who will
go for us?” Who will feed the hungry? Who will love the unlovable? Who will
stand up for the poor and the oppressed? Who will work for justice and peace?
Who will tear down the walls that separate us? Who will choose the good of
others over the good of themselves? Who will take up their cross and follow
Christ? Who will teach Sunday School? Who will visit those in the hospital? Who
will go and preach the Gospel? Who will build the Kingdom of God?
The
justice and salvation for the world that God had in mind has not yet come to
its fullest realization on earth as it is in heaven. The world and God needs people
to go. But before we get going, before we can say “here I am,” we must discern
where exactly we are. We’re not in Kansas anymore. Christianity is at a
crucible moment. Christianity is no longer the assumption, as 25% of young
adults choose “none” when asked for their religious affiliation. We’ve seen
declines in all sorts of ways- Americans give less financially than they used
to, we spend less time at church than we did in the past, we pray less, read
the Bible less, and know less about those topics than our parents and
grandparents did.
And what are reasons for
this decline? Well, basically, they are the same as we see in Isaiah- excuses.
Isaiah says that he’s unclean, and therefore unfit to be God’s messenger. Sorry
God, really wish I could help out, but I just can’t. Not many of us use unclean
lips as our excuse, but we still have our excuses: I don’t know enough to teach
Sunday School, I’m too busy to come to forums, reading the Bible every day is
just a lot of time, people will think I’m crazy if I talk about Jesus in
public. But just as God addressed Isaiah’s excuses, God addressed ours as well.
Saying “here I am, send
me” is one of the hardest statements to make because it means dedicated
ourselves to something other than ourselves. Being sent involves taking risks,
being uncomfortable, spending less time watching television and more time
reading the Bible, spending less on vacations and Starbucks and more on
charity. Being sent is not for the faint of heart. But as on any journey, we
all know that doing it halfway doesn’t get you anywhere. If you want to go to
Paris, halfway gets you to the middle of the ocean. You can only have the
experience of saying “here I am” or “Lord, we made it” if you go all the way.
Christianity is supposed to be a challenge, it is supposed to be
counter-cultural, it is supposed to be hard. We wear crosses around our necks,
and if that doesn’t tell us that saying “here I am, send me” is hard, then I
don’t know what would. And so because it can be such a challenge, more and more
people are finding themselves reluctant to take on the challenge. If we read
the signs of the times, signs such as less involvement, less giving, less
commitment, it seems like we have signs of despair.
But looking at our gospel
reading and Nicodemus, we see that signs are not all they’re cracked up to be.
Nicodemus is such a wonderful character, and a great stand-in for many of us.
Nicodemus was part of the establishment- he was an upstanding member of the
Jewish community, he was a respected leader, he was well liked, he was wealthy
and educated. And he understood what following Jesus would mean. Nicodemus knew
that discipleship under Jesus would be renouncing his wealth and comfort, his
power and prestige. As a member of the Jewish power structure, he knew that
Jesus was bound to end up in trouble with the law and knew that there was a
bounty on Jesus’ head. But he was still intrigued by Jesus. Nicodemus yearned
for the sort of stuff that Jesus spoke about- the love, justice, and peace of
the Kingdom of God. But he wasn’t quite sure if he was ready to commit.
Perhaps Nicodemus should
be considered the patron saint for the seeker and the uncertain. So Nicodemus
comes to visit and question Jesus at night. He probably snuck out of his house
so that no one would notice his absence, he took some alleys instead of main
roads to get to Jesus, probably had his cloak pulled up around his head so that
no one would recognize him. Nicodemus comes to Jesus and asks him about the
signs. Perhaps he figures that if Jesus can explain the signs or even do a few
more, then he could take the plunge and follow Jesus- he just needs to see a
little more evidence, needs just a little more convincing.
But Jesus wants nothing
to do with these signs and instead offers a riddle about being born from above.
Jesus introduces a lot of dichotomies and comparisons in his response: flesh
vs. spirit; born from above vs. born from below: light vs. dark; hearing vs.
understanding; condemnation vs. salvation. Jesus makes it clear that to follow
him, his followers must make a choice about where “here” is for them. With all
of these options, a choice has to be made. Will you focus on what is above you,
or what is around you? Will you hear, or will you understand? Does Jesus
condemn, or does Jesus save? To choose one thing, is to choose not to do the
other. As much as we want to have it both ways, we can’t. You can’t be a
disciple and an individualist. You can’t hoard up treasure and follow Jesus.
You can’t turn a blind eye to those in need and love Jesus. You can’t come to
Jesus by hiding at night and ignore him during the daylight. Jesus invites
Nicodemus to make a choice that night.
But Nicodemus doesn’t
understand what’s going on, as he’s still trying to figure Jesus out, instead
of simply living in Jesus. He wants to say “here I am, send me,” but wants to
know first where he will be sent. Nicodemus gets tripped up. When Jesus says
that you have to be “born from above” it could also be understood as being
“born again.” Nicodemus makes the same mistake that millions of Evangelicals
make when they put so much emphasis on being born again. We don’t need to be born again, once was
enough; but in our lifestyle, we have a choice: either we are born from above
and seek ye first the Kingdom of God, or we are born of this world and seek the
idols of comfort, certainty, wealth, and self.
Being born from above is
the key, orientating ourselves towards God is the task of discipleship. Just as
Eucharist without meaning from above is just bread and wine, and Baptism that
is not from above is just a bath, life without being born from above is simply
going through the motions each day. Just like the sacraments of the Church, the
meaning for our lives comes from above. If we trust that there is a loving Creator,
a redeeming Lord, a giving Spirit, our truest meaning is only found when we
locate ourselves as being “here” in God. St. Augustine said “our hearts are
restless, O Lord, until they find rest in thee.”
Nicodemus doesn’t find
what he was looking for, he couldn’t see how being born again, or from above,
was something he could do, so he walks home. He wanted a sign to show him the
way, but if could be born from above, he himself would be the sign. Later in
John, we’ll run into Nicodemus again, but for now, he’s only watches Jesus from
the sidelines and isn’t ready to get into the game. What prevents Nicodemus
from going all-in? I don’t know, I wasn’t there, I didn’t have a chance to
interview Nicodemus while I was writing this sermon. But it’s a question we
should all ask ourselves. What keeps us from being the most devote disciples of
Jesus as possible? And this isn’t me speaking on high to you all either, none
of us have it all figured out. When I love, I worry about being hurt. When I
give money away, I worry about unexpected expenses coming up. When I wear my
collar out in public, I risk being labeled and judged as something I’m not.
When I counsel people in need, I worry about not being helpful. When I decide
to follow Jesus and go against cultural norms, I fear the repercussions. When I
speak about dedication and following Jesus, I worry that I’ll scare people away
with too much talk to commitment. And Lord knows, I make my share of mistakes-
whether it’s a short temper or a selfish attitude, I don’t think I’m alone in
sin.
There are thousands of
reasons to be like Nicodemus, to stay a seeker, to avoid the risk of going
all-in with discipleship, but there is one really good reason to take the
plunge, to say “Lord, send me.” John 3:16- “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 life.” Let’s rescue that verse from the billboards, from those who
want to use that verse to exclude instead of welcome, and more importantly,
let’s not interrupt Jesus in the middle of a thought. John 3:17 is just as
important- “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.”
In these two verses,
Jesus speaks about the rationale for being born from above and living for the
Kingdom which is above: we are loved and we are saved. In a recent interview,
Desmond Tutu was asked about freedom after Apartheid ended in South Africa and
he said that being freed from something is actually quite easy by comparison,
but the harder task is being freed for something. It was one thing to freed
from legal discrimination and prejudice, but it something else entirely to be
freed for service and reconciliation. It was easy for Isaiah to be cleansed
from his sins, but it was hard to be cleansed for being sent. This distinction
between “from” and “for” is a very helpful one in looking at these verses.
Through Jesus we see
God’s love and are saved. So what? Big deal. If salvation is some sort of divine
action on the cosmic level that lifts some sort of roadblock into heaven, then
what difference does it make? Being loved, saved, or freed from something has
very little meaning, just like living from below instead of above. If I love my
wife, what difference does that make to her or to me? Not much. But what if I
love her for a purpose? What if I love her for the sake of making her happy, of
being her companion through the ups and downs of life, of supporting her? That
is something life changing. And the same can be said of God.
If there is some deity in
the sky that loves us, great. But if the Almighty loves us for the purpose of
making us whole, of giving us meaning, of letting us partner with God in
Creation, then that matters. And the same is true of salvation. We are all
sinners, yes. And forgiveness is a great thing, don’t get me wrong, but if our
salvation is about life after death, then what’s the point of all this? Why
bother with all this suffering, with the challenges of life? But what if we are
saved not from something, but for something? What if we are saved so that we
can do accomplish something? What if we are saved from wallowing in our sins,
from fear of death or failure so that we can attend to the needy or sacrifice
our self interests for the greater good? What if we are saved from being
unlovable so that we can go out and love with all of our being? That, my
brothers and sisters, is something to be excited about. That understanding of
John 3:16 is something to put on a billboard or make posters about.
To live into the purpose
of our love and salvation is a daunting and holy task, but it is the task to
which we are called. Our world needs more people to do get into their boats and
say domine ivimus, “Lord we are here”,
or “send me.” To do so is to be bold and courageous. Our hearts yearn to find
their rest in God, to fully embrace our mission. We are loved for a purpose,
saved for a reason: building the Kingdom of God. There is much work to be done,
the “help wanted” ad has been posted, now is our time to answer “here we are
Lord, send us.”
