Introduction
• Read John 3:12-16; 7:45-53; 19:38-42
• To you, I hope, Jesus of Nazareth is the Son of God, your Savior and your Lord. It is so wonderful that we live on this side of the cross and resurrection. Though it is difficult to relinquish control of our lives to this one who lived long ago, it was even more difficult to do so when He walked on this earth. That was especially true for a prominent ruler of the Jews by the name of Nicodemus. Jesus in no way came as the “expected” Messiah was to come – born of royalty and carrying a sword in His hand. And His teachings exposed the hypocrisy of much of what Nicodemus and others like him were hiding behind.
• Nicodemus became a distant disciple for understandable reasons. Yet as you hear his story this morning, evaluate your own walk and relationship with Jesus. Are you too a distant disciple?
Monologue
Shalom! Let me introduce myself. I am a member of an old family in Jerusalem. We can trace our lineage back to the time when our nation returned from the Exile in Babylon. My family has been prominent for generations.
As a guardian of the establishment, I belong to the elite religious sect within Judaism. We call ourselves Pharisees, or the “separated ones”. We are a strict brotherhood made up of the best men of our people and pledged to obey the law and uphold the traditions of our fathers. We consider ourselves to be the true Israelites. We believe in the resurrection of the dead and look forward to the coming of the Messiah. My brothers expect him to be a militant figure who will drive the Romans from our holy city and God-given land.
Because of my position in the community, I am also on the 70 member Jewish supreme court, the Sanhedrin. The Roman governor allows us considerable jurisdiction over the internal government of the province. Our religious authority extends to every Jewish male in the world. The high priest himself is our president or chief justice. My membership in this body marks me as a ruler of the Jews.
I have quite a reputation as a rabbi or teacher among my people. Some give me the title, “The Teacher” My chief teacher was Gamaliel, of whom you may have heard.
At Passover some five springs ago, we had quite a stir in the capital. An intense rabbi from Galilee came to the feast accompanied by a group of his students or disciples. He caused a big ruckus by driving the sellers of sacrificial animals and birds out of the Temple complex – with a plaited whip! He also upset the tables of the money changers. It very nearly precipitated a riot. The high priest was livid! He had licensed stalls and received a handsome commission on their profits.
However what really upset my party, the Pharisees, was what this fellow Jesus said as He cleared the place out. “You shall not make my Father’s house a house of trade!”
His Father’s house, indeed. Who did He think He was? That was what my fellow Pharisees wanted to know. Then it was reported that He said He would destroy the Temple and rebuild it in three days. An absurd claim, we thought.
My group was up in arms against this fellow Jesus. “But let us be fair,” I said. “Let’s examine all the facts.” Jesus did a number of miracles, or signs, as He called them. I didn’t take much stock in them until my blind cousin was healed by him. It was an authentic miracle. From that moment, I knew we must take this rabbi a bit more seriously. Our writings say that if a prophet gives a sign or miracle he is to be listened to.
Let me confess that despite my family’s wealth and my prominence as a rabbi in Jerusalem, something was lacking in me. I have kept the law all my adult life. Yet there was little joy in it all. It was largely an external affair of ritual cleanliness and righteousness. At a deeper level I had been a seeker after truth for some time before I met the Master. I certainly had a veneer of respectability, but underneath I felt a nagging void. I determined to meet Jesus and examine His claims and teachings for myself. After all, it was the only fair thing to do.
I decided to arrange an interview with Jesus. I had to go by night. There are several reasons for this. Night was the favorite time for rabbis, such as Jesus and I, to discuss law and theology among ourselves. It was a quiet time when there would be little likelihood of interruption. He was a highly controversial person. Discretion dictated that the interview be conducted privately.
As I have thought about that interview, since that night, I realize that I came to Jesus out of spiritual darkness as well.
I shall never forget that warm spring evening. I had made arrangements with one of His disciples, Andrew, for the interview. We were to meet in the garden of Gethsemane which overlooks the city of Jerusalem. Discreetly I made my way up to see Jesus. It wouldn’t have done me any good to see Jesus and be seen going there. As a leader, my every action is under scrutiny. As I approached my heart was pounding. Why should a man of my position be so excited about meeting a Galilean? Maybe it was some deep longing inside me or perhaps some sort of premonition that tonight could be of eternal importance.
I saw Him standing in the moonlight. He came forward to receive me. He dismissed His disciples, leaving us alone. I expected Him to be tired and weary. Andrew had specifically indicated that He had been teaching and healing since daybreak. However Jesus looked completely rested and composed; much more than me, after hurrying through dark alleys to get there. He looked so young! He couldn’t have been more than thirty. His eyes were piercing, even by the moonlight.
“Rabbi,” I said, “we know that you are a teacher come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do, unless God is with him.” I approached as one theologian to another, speaking for the ‘Jewish religious establishment’.
His reply really shocked me. He said, “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you are born again you cannot see the kingdom of God.” It was as though He was saying, “Let’s not talk about me and my miracles, but about you and your entry into the kingdom.” I had been diplomatic and complimentary. Jesus’ reply ignored these tributes and went like a rapier to the heart of my own spiritual problem.”
I wasn’t to be dealt with so abruptly. I took Him quite literally and said, “Born again? How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?” My mind was whirling at the thought. The very idea! Proselytes to Judaism were said to be born again. But what need had a Hebrew to be born more than being born as a son of Abraham? Incredible! Once a man is old his habits and life patterns are fixed. He doesn’t make a radical change!
Then Jesus repeated Himself by saying, “You must be born again.” He went on to explain that there are two births that can occur to a person: the one that occurs when we are born (water birth), and the one that the Spirit of God brings about.
Then Jesus pointed out the sovereignty of the warm night wind. “The wind blows where it wills,” He said. Do you suppose that God’s Spirit can be that spontaneous? You know, we thought we had God shut up in the law of our culture and our worship. Could God be bringing new truth through this young rabbi? I couldn’t be precisely sure of His meaning. He used a play on words. You see, in our language the same word means, breath, wind, or spirit.
“How can this be?” I asked.
Jesus wanted to make it clear that He was talking about a spiritual birth, totally separate from physical birth, and that the Spirit was able to perform it in me. He seemed disappointed that I was so slow to catch His meaning. “Nicodemus,” He said, “are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand this?”
Then He said – and I haven’t forgotten His words – “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” I did not understand the full meaning of those words until later – much later.
The opposite of faith is not doubt, but unbelief. How hard it was for me to believe that this intense young Galilean could be the Son of God – the Messiah. The interview ended with me being in a spiritual quandary. A battle was raging inside of me. I wanted to believe, yet I had so much religious tradition to ‘unlearn’, as it were. I wanted to uphold what I had always known, and I wanted to believe this radical new birth was possible for me as well. I had no peace of mind. I wanted to declare for Him, but I had too much to give up. That interview created a moral dilemma for me.
It was not until the next year at the Feast of Tabernacles in Jerusalem that I saw Jesus again. The Sanhedrin decided to send certain persons to check him out. They reported back to us, “No man ever spoke like this man!”
The vast majority of the court was too blinded by prejudice against Jesus to be fair. They asked, “Have any Pharisees believed in Him?”
My heart was in my throat. I wanted to say, “Yes, this Pharisee believes in Him!” But I didn’t dare. That was not the time or the place. The fever of their opposition to Jesus was at too high a pitch.
Mustering all my courage, I did ask, “Does our law judge a man without first giving him a hearing? Let’s be fair!”
But they turned on me – all of them railed at me. “Are you from Galilee too?” one member screamed. “Search the Scriptures and you will see that no prophet comes from Galilee.” Only later did I learn that Jesus was not born in Galilee, but in Bethlehem of Judea. They didn’t think that any Galilean was ever to be taken seriously. Their contempt was something to behold.
I stood alone. Never before in all my life had I felt so alone. Little did I notice or suspect that my lame defense of Jesus had a telling effect on one of our Sanhedrin members. Joseph, from the northern Judean village of Arimathea, took in all I’d said. He was a good man who was looking for the kingdom of God. He was a new member of the court, in contrast to my old family. My defense of Jesus was enough to set Joseph thinking.
The next Passover was a sheer nightmare. Jesus returned to Jerusalem in triumph to the praise of the common people. This only served to crystallize the religious authorities’ opposition to Him. They were determined to see Him dead.
An illegal meeting of the court was called in the early hours of Friday morning. ‘Conveniently’ the messenger did not get word to me. I suppose they thought I might stall for more time. When I heard about the trial at midmorning, I was surprised to learn one white stone had been cast, all the rest were black. There was one other member who believed Jesus was innocent! Unbelievable! But who? Nevertheless, Jesus was condemned to death.
Shortly before noon, I went outside the city wall to the place of execution. It was incredible that such a magnificent life could be snuffed out. As I watched Him hanging there, suddenly I recalled something He has said to me that night in the garden. “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him may have eternal life.” Those words “lifted up” have come to mean for my people, since the Roman occupation, being lifted up on a cross in crucifixion.
Suddenly, I understood! I knew! It was true! Jesus is the Son of God! But how could it end like this – with a criminal’s cross? I turned to flee. As I ran down the hill, I bumped into a hooded figure. Through tears, I made out the familiar face. It was Joseph of Arimathea. He was the one who had cast the one white stone – the innocent vote.
Joseph took me over to the west side of the hill. He went up a narrow walled street and through a gate. It opened into a quiet, lovely garden. There Joseph showed me his newly hewn family tomb. Looking eastward, I could still see the silhouette of three crosses.
We made our plans quietly. Joseph would procure the body from Pilate. I would meet him at the garden tomb with linen and spices for the Master’s burial. We went our separate ways.
When I returned, carrying around 75 pounds of items – linen, myrrh and aloes – I found Joseph there with His precious burden.
Lovingly, we bathed the body, cleaning the wounds and the pierced brow. We laid His body on the white linen sheet and covered it. Then, pouring on the spices, we wrapped the body in winding cloths. It was a burial befitting a king – the King of the Jews. We had to work hurriedly, for the Sabbath was at hand. What a scene we must have made – two secret disciples who came over to the Master’s side only after His death. It is a sad, almost tragic note. We often leave our kindest tribute until it’s too late.
And then that thrilling Sunday morning – what unspeakable joy! Our Lord had risen! With awe and wonder we listened to the reports from those who had actually seen and spoken with Him. “Jesus is alive” were the words on every believer’s lips.
Jesus has changed my life. I have been born again – after I was old. Go figure! His death and resurrection has given me courage. I, Nicodemus, the one who came timidly at night, now come boldly during the day to proclaim that Jesus is the light of the world. He is my Savior and He is my Master. How about you?
This monologue was adapted from one with the same title found in
Dramatic Monologue Preaching by Alton McEachern (Broadman Press, 1984, pages 67f)
