"THE QUESTION HE DIDN’T ASK”

Scripture Readings: John 3:1-16, Genesis 12:1-9

There was once a man who had a pet lamb. He fed it by hand and played with it every day. When hard times came, he was forced to take his pet lamb to market, to sell it.

Now there were three thieves who heard of the man's plan and plotted to take the lamb from him in a unique way.

Early in the morning the man rose and put the lamb over his shoulders, to carry it to market. As he traveled down the road, the first thief approached him and said, "Why are you carrying that dog on your shoulders?"

The man laughed, "This is not a dog. It is my pet lamb. I am taking it to market," he said.

After he walked a bit further, the second thief crossed his path and said, "What a fine looking dog you have. Where are you taking it?"

Puzzled, the man took the lamb off his shoulders and carefully looked at it. "This is not a dog," he said slowly. "It is a lamb and I am taking it to market."

Shortly before he reached the market the third thief met the man and said, "Sir, I don't think that they will allow you to take your dog into the market."

Completely confused, the man took the lamb off his shoulders and set it on the ground. "If three different people say that this is a dog, then surely it must be a dog," he thought. He left the lamb behind and walked to the market. If he had bothered to turn around he would have seen the three thieves picking up the lamb and running away.

Change - that's the issue I'm asking us to consider this morning. And I begin with this old Ethiopian story because we're talking about real change, real transformation. Not brain-washing. Not being locked in a room or a compound and battered by words until we finally give in, until we finally are willing to call a lamb a dog. Because, no matter the words, no matter the persuasion, it's still a lamb. Real change.

And, of course, that issue has topical relevance right now as our state is being criss-crossed by Presidential aspirants who are promising us change. The season of Lent, however, wants us to make it personal. What about making a real change in your life?

In considering this, our Old and New Testament accounts give us an interesting opportunity to compare and contrast two people who are considering making a real change in their lives.

Both are men: Abram in the book of Genesis and Nicodemus in the third chapter of John’s Gospel. Both men are old - Abram is seventy-five and Nicodemus calls himself old. And both of them are called to give something up: Nicodemus, the righteous pharisee, sees that God is acting through Jesus and is called to follow him; Abram is called to leave his country, his people, his father's household, and go to a new land that God will show him.

But for all their similarities, there is one important difference between them: Nicodemus asks the question and Abram doesn't.

Do you know what question I mean? The question that Abram didn’t ask? The question that always seems to trip you and me up when we’re working at making a real change in our lives? Nicodemus asks, "How?" After Jesus issues his call, "You must be born anew," Nicodemus asks, "How - How can a man be born who is old?"

It's strange to me that Nicodemus should be the one to ask. As a righteous Jew, he's very familiar with the notions of regeneration and resurrection. It’s not like Jesus is talking about something he’s never heard of before.

But think of Abram – he certainly seems to have the more compelling reason to ask "how?" God tells him to give everything up with the promise that this new land will be his and his descendents.

First of all, when God shows him the land, it's already occupied by Canaanites. It would seem logical to me to press God a little bit on how exactly God planned to persuade the Canaanites that this was Abram's land.

And there's an even more important question that Abram could ask. You see, this story has to be read in light of a verse that preceeds it - "Now Sarai was barren; she had no children." In a time when everyone who was childless was considered cursed by God, that was the overwhelming fact of Abram and Sarai's life. In fact, there's a cruel irony here - Abram's name translated means "blessed father." For seventy-five years that name has been a curse, not a blessing. It's as absurd as if my name were really "the tall, blonde one."

And so even his name confronts him with the awful and unchangeable fact that he isn't and cannot be a father. And from this barren seventy-year-old man and his barren, sixty-five-year-old wife, God promises to make a great nation, a veritable sea of descendents. If I were Abram, I'd sure be asking, "And how did you intend to do that, God?" But Abram asks no such question. He doesn’t ask “How?” He just follows the call and leaves his home.

And perhaps Abram was wise not to ask. Everyone who has ever considered having children can remember what it was like to begin the list of "how" questions. "How can we afford this?" and "How can both of us continue to work?" or "How can we survive on one income?" even "How about if the baby doesn't have a normal birth or isn't completely healthy?" The fact of the matter is, before all those “how" questions would be completely answered, the couple would be too old to have children!

It's the same thing with other major changes and decisions in our life: "How do I know that you’re really the one; this is really it, really love?" "How will I make a living if I follow my passion?” “How will the kids adjust to living in a new town?” “How will my parents ever forgive me if I move to a new church?”

"The wind blows where it will; you can hear the sound of it, but you know not whence it comes or whither it goes." Do you remember that from our reading? That's how Jesus answers Nicodemus' "how" question. The Greek word for wind is the same word for Spirit. That's how the Spirit of God works. That's how life-changes occur: "The Spirit blows where it will; you can hear the sound of it, but you know not whence it comes or whither it goes."

It's a beautful verse but it didn't satisfy Nicodemus. He was too much like all of us, wanting specific plans and guarantees in answer to the how questions of life. So it is for us when we ask "How?" - we cannot get the answers that satisfy all our questions and doubts.

So what can we do?

Well, what would happen if we gave up the how question? What if we loosened our hold on the hows and whys and ways and means of our lives just a little bit when we are being invited to make life-changing decisions?

Let me remind you for a moment of our destination on this journey of Lent - the empty tomb of Jesus. Remember the women who traveled to the tomb, determined to do their last duty for their friend and teacher Jesus? They started out on an impossible journey - there was a huge stone rolled in front of the tomb. One that none of them could move away. So how did they intend to put spices around the dead body so it could be comfortably visited? They didn't ask. They just went.

Back in January of 1982, an Air Florida jet crashed into the Potomac River. An unnamed man gave his life in order to save other people who, with him, were hanging on to the tail of the plane. When the rescue helicopter dropped a life-line, he passed it on to another person – and another – and another – until only he was left in the water. But when the helicopter returned for the sixth time, he was gone; he had slipped under the water of the river. He gave his life so that others might live.

Roger Rosenblatt, in Time Magazine, wrote, "... at some moment in the water he must have realized that he would not live if he continued to hand over the rope and ring to others. He had to know it, no matter how gradual the effect of the cold. In his judgement, he had no choice. When the helicopter took off with what was to be the last survivor, he watched everything in the world move away from him, and he deliberately let it happen."

How? How could he have had such courage to face that choice - to give his life so that others might live? I don't believe that young man asked, “How?” He just followed where God lead him, away from his own home, away from everything he had ever known, away from his life. Like Abram, he didn't ask "How?" He just followed. He followed the same trail that Jesus had blazed through the crucifixion. As the Apostle Paul put it, Jesus knew what had to happen and he "became obedient unto death, even death on a cross."

Death is an incontrovertable fact of every one of our lives. Each one of us will die. And yet somehow we don’t believe that makes our lives meaningless. Even in the dark shadow of our own deaths, we believe there is meaning and purpose to this life. And believe that death will not be the final answer. That there is a life to come. And who among us can resist asking the question that Abram didn’t ask: How? How will that happen? How will we triumph over death?

At the end of Jesus' discourse with Nicodemus, the Evangelist adds a footnote. In perhaps the most famous verse of the New Testament, he writes, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." After all this talk of "how", John redirects the question to "who." Not "How can we be born anew?” but "Who gives us this new birth?” And the answer is God through Jesus Christ.

I believe that is the real task of faith, not to ask "how" but remember "who". I cannot tell you how you can face the trials of your life, how you can face the difficult choices of discipleship, how you and I can make real change in our lives, how we can be continually born anew through our faith. If I tried, the best answer I could come up with is Jesus' answer: "The Spirit blows where it will; you can hear the sound of it, but you know not whence it comes or whither it goes."

But I can remember with you who it is that gives us the courage and strength to face our calling - who it is that brings newness into our lives - who it is that moves away the stones that block our journeys of faith. It is God. And true faith and confidence in God means that we can set aside "how" when we remember “who.”

That's the example of faith shown to us through Abram and Jesus Christ. That's the faith that Nicodemus was unwilling to accept. But for those who do accept it, it promises a life-time of renewal. As the 14th Century German mystic Meister Eckhard wrote, "Today I am younger than I was yesterday, and tomorrow I will be younger than I am now. The reason is that every day I am born anew in Christ and every rebirth is a new beginning, another springtime."

Let us put our confidence in God for that springtime to arrive in our lives, even on this codl and icy day. We know not "how" it will come, but we do know “who” it is about. Amen.

Sermon preached by Reverend Steve Savides at First Congregational United Church of Christ, Appleton, Wisconsin on February 17, 2008.