Our North Star

March 5, 2023

Hope Lutheran Church

Rev. Mary Erickson

Genesis 12:1-4a; John 3:1-17

Our North Star

Friends, may grace and peace be yours in abundance in the knowledge of God and Christ Jesus our Lord.

In the summer of 1998 I worked on an archaeological dig in Israel. We volunteers stayed at a kibbutz, the Kibbutz Ginosar along the northwestern coast of the Sea of Galilee.

Every day volunteers were coming and going. One of the volunteer participants, a friendly fellow, had been on the dig for a while already. He invited a number of us to join him on a moonlit hike to the nearby Mount Arbel. Arbel rises from the Sea of Galilee like a timeless sentinel. It offers a sweeping view of the entire northern end of the sea.

I was one of the people who tagged along with him. We had to time the beginning of our hike with the moonrise. It was about a quarter moon, so not a whole lot of light, but sufficient to light our way.

We parked at the base of the mount and started making our way up a rocky trail. At first, the path was daringly dim, but it’s amazing how your eyes can adjust to even low light conditions. Soon we were hoofing our way like seasoned mountain goats.

At one point, our guide friend stopped. He turned and said to us, “Okay, when we go around this next bend, the mountain is going to block out the moonlight from the path. It’s going to get darker, but it’ll be all right. We’ll go very slowly.”

Around the bend we went, and, sure enough, the steep mountainside cast a shadow over the path. We slowed our forward progress, and thankfully the path soon took a bend into the light.

Around a few more turns, and we were at the top. The panoramic view in the silvery moonlight was breathtaking. The lake shimmered in the dappled light and the entire landscape was drenched in peace and serenity.

Travelling at night is very different than travelling during the day. Even a familiar daytime route seems strangely foreign and unfamiliar at night. It’s easy to lose your bearings. I was grateful that we had a reliable guide who knew the way.

We hear a story today from John’s gospel. It takes place in the middle of the dark night. Nicodemus pays a visit to Jesus at this unusual hour.

He comes to Jesus with questions. The darkness of this nighttime visit tells us that something about Nicodemus is “in the dark.” He has questions.

Nicodemus is a Pharisee. He’s a man of prestige and high regard. People come to him for answers. Maybe that’s partially why he comes at an hour when most people are in bed. He doesn’t want others to know that he has questions of his own.

Nicodemus comes in the dark seeking guidance from Jesus. Not the geographical kind; he’s looking for spiritual guidance.

Lent is a season spiritual wandering. It’s 40 days in length. Jesus went into the wilderness for 40 days. It mirrored the 40 years that Israel wandered in the wilderness on their journey back to the land of Canaan. On their way, they were led by the pillar of fire and cloud, nothing else. The pillar was their guide; it represented God’s presence in their midst.

In our first reading, Abram also followed the direction of God. God told Abram to pack up and leave behind everything loved and familiar – his father, his extended family, the familiar country. Leave it all and set out towards the new land where God would lead him. God promised him unseen blessings. The blessings would be so extensive that they would fill Abram to the point of overflowing. The entire world would be blessed through him.

Our two biblical stories today center on divine guidance. Here we are in Lent, a season of searching. Our unanswered questions rise to the surface and we come to realize how much we’re groping in the dark, just like Nicodemus.

Lent tells us that it’s okay to search; it’s okay not to have all the answers. What’s important is to keep looking. And on our search into the unknown, we have a faithful guide.

The Lord guided Abram and Sarai into a new and blessed future. Nicodemus sought out Jesus as his guide through the darkness.

Jesus leads Nicodemus through his inner darkness. Nicodemus takes hesitant steps forward. He asks more questions at each new turn.

The field of literature would designate Nicodemus as a sympathetic character. In Nicodemus we meet a protagonist with whom we can strongly identify. Here’s an individual with flaws and vulnerabilities, just like we have. His exterior, public confidence masks the inner hesitations that plague him. We can relate to his uncertainties and ponderings because we have them too.