About a thousand years ago St. Anselm of Canterbury (in England) chose as a motto, “faith seeking understanding.” He was concerned that people’s belief in God might come through un-thoughtful acceptance of what they had been told. Although his work is mostly read today by seminarians and academic types, his motto offers us a lens through which to read scripture and to engage in discussions about it. It also offers us a lens through which we can charitably view religious or theological disagreements.
Many of us today view the word “heresy” as a rather archaic term. In the early church and for several centuries discussions of God's nature generated much heat and sometimes resulted in banishment for heresy. Were God the Father, Jesus Christ the Son, and the Holy Spirit co-equal and co-eternal? The pro and con positions on this issue became much like political parties, except they were in the church. However, today most of us hardly give a thought about nature of the Trinity—except on the first Sunday after Pentecost.
Yet the church's legacy of disputes, resulting in the exclusion of some folks for their positions on certain hot-button issues, continues to this day. Different centuries bring different issues to divide us as Christians and cause us to forget Jesus' prayer for his followers love one another. Anselm's concept of “faith seeking understanding . . .” rather than “faith knowing without a doubt . . .” provides us with a way around choosing up sides and excluding those that disagree with us. This does not mean that we would be willing to believe anything and everything, but undertaking discussion in the spirit of seeking understanding can provide light, rather than heat, and allow space for the leading of the Holy Spirit in our common life as Christians.
“Faith seeking understanding” can be lived out as well as discussed. From the account in Genesis we learn that God told Abram to go from his own country and kindred to go to a new land, Abram did so because he trusted God. What did it mean to be promised that his family would become a great nation and all families of the earth would be blessed through him? Abram (later Abraham) had faith that God would show him how all this would work out. So he followed God's bidding and left all he knew behind. Abram's going could be called, I think, “faith seeking understanding.”
Nicodemus, a Jewish religious leader whom we heard about from the Gospel of John this morning, had faith. Nothing in the gospel indicates otherwise. He sought out Jesus and engaged in a dialog with him. He seemed to be seeking to understand who Jesus truly was. Was he the Messiah, foretold by the prophets, for whom the Jews were waiting? Was this the man who would establish God's rule of justice and peace?
Can we compare ourselves to Nicodemus? Do we have faith, but still have questions about Jesus—in particular, about his teachings? We don't have Jesus with us to ask him directly. So how can we gain the understanding we wish we had?
As Episcopalians we believe that Holy Scripture provides all things necessary for salvation, but we also believe that we must use our reason to interpret scripture. We must pose questions when we study scripture, just as Nicodemus did to when he went to see Jesus. Nicodemus showed respect for Jesus by seeking Jesus out. Through challenging Nicodemus to think more deeply about the issues he raised, Jesus shows respect for the importance of Nicodemus' concerns. The questions we pose when we study scripture show our respect for God's holy Word. God will honor our questions by leading us to a deeper understanding if we allow our minds to be open to the Spirit's leading in the context of our Christian community.
But let's return to Nicodemus. Nicodemus appeared to want confirmation that Jesus was a teacher “come from God.” Instead of replying, “Well, of course, I'm from God—you said you'd seen my signs, right?” Jesus kicked the dialog up a notch by telling Nicodemus a person must be transformed in order to see God's rule of justice and peace. Jesus' words have become a well-known sound bite, “. . . no one can see the kingdom of God with out being born again.” The Greek word, anothen, sometimes translated “again,” can be understood in several senses—“again,” “anew,” or “from above.” Some Christians have made a litmus test of this statement: if you are not born again (as they define it—usually as a dramatic emotional experience) you have not been “saved.” Jesus did not appear to be creating a litmus test, but used the words “born again” as a way to draw Nicodemus into a deeper understanding of how the rule of God will happen.
The power of God through God's Spirit, God's wind, God's breath—pneuma in Greek—can transform us, make us new, give us a rebirth and make us fit for the kingdom. Then Nicodemus asked, “How?” After a brief expression of exasperation—you should understand this, Nicodemus, since you are well-educated—Jesus launched into an explanation of how he will be the Messiah of God: “For God so loved the world . . .”
This verse, John 3:16, must be the most famous quote from the New Testament—maybe from the entire Bible. And yet when we read or listen to this passage from the Gospel of John, we must remember Jesus' purpose—not to condemn Nicodemus or exclude Nicodemus—but to draw him in. Is God trying to draw us in as well? Seeking to open our minds and our hearts to the power of God's spirit, to the power of God's love—so we may be transformed into kingdom people—just, merciful, and humble.
So we must ask ourselves—how do we understand the phrase “everyone who believes in [Jesus] may not perish but may have eternal life?” What do we think about the phrase in the next verse after those we heard this morning that appears to indicate salvation depends on “believing in the name of the only Son of God?” Are these litmus tests to exclude some folks from heaven, or are they invitations to go deeper into God's heart, to strengthen our faith by seeking to understand how God loves each of us and how God loves all of us. To use a rather modern turn of phrase: is this passage calling us to embrace our inner Nicodemus—a somewhat clueless, although educated, fellow whose faith was most clearly seeking understanding?
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