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It’s Not Just About Us

The Rev. Canon George M. Maxwell, Jr.
The Cathedral of St. Philip
Atlanta, Georgia
17 February 2008
Second Sunday in Lent -- Year A

We were getting dressed to go out.  I can’t even remember what we were talking about.  But, whatever it was, we didn’t agree on at least part of it.  What I do remember is that, as our conversation grew more focused, Sally looked at me and said something like, “you know, it’s not always just about you!”

Part of me had already started listing all of the reasons why she was wrong, when another part of me realized that she was right.  I had seen how I was affected, but I had missed the effects on others. 

I had to laugh.  I looked up at her in mock amazement and said “how could that possibly be?”  She laughed with me and we went on with our evening.

Sometimes, though, it’s easy to forget that it’s not always just about us.

You know the signs.  We focus a little more on our individual souls and on our personal salvation.  We treat evangelism and social action as if they have nothing to do with each other.

And, we take phrases like “born again,” “eternal life,” and even “belief” and turn them into slogans.  We make it hard for them to tell us much, except for who the good people are and how they will be rewarded.

We even start to wonder whether the church is doing all it can for us.  We might even consider switching churches if we think another church could do more.

Okay, well, maybe we don’t do that last part here at the Cathedral!

I wonder if we do these things because we think we know what salvation looks like.  Sometimes, it feels like we think we know pretty much where we need to be.  We just want to make sure that we get there safely.

We treat salvation as if it’s a mathematical equation.  We already know the answer.  We just have to identify the right variables.

Or, we think salvation works like a balance sheet.  We’ll be fine if we just account properly for all of the assets and liabilities.

Usually, though, something happens that reminds us God doesn’t work this way.

This, I think, is exactly what Nicodemus is experiencing.  Nicodemus is no ordinary religious person.  He is a Pharisee, a leader and a teacher.  He is a man whose piety no one questions and whose power many people envy.  He speaks not just for himself, but for a group of Pharisees who follow him.

He comes to Jesus at night – after the distractions of the day have passed.  It is the time that the rabbis preferred for studying the Torah.  It is the time when Jesus would be alone.  Nicodemus comes out of respect.  He comes because he wants to learn.   

Nicodemus, you see, has also seen signs.  Maybe he was there when Jesus turned the water into wine at the wedding feast.  Maybe he was there when Jesus ran the money changers out of the Temple.  Whatever he saw, it convinced him that Jesus was a teacher from God.

He knows that Jesus has something to teach him, but he thinks it will be more of the same kind of thing that he already knows.  He thinks it will be more information to absorb, or different rules to follow, or new rituals to practice.  He thinks it will be another variable for his equation, or another asset to record on his balance sheet.  He thinks it will be something that he needs to do.

This is why the idea of being born again from above doesn’t make any sense to him.  He can only hear half of what Jesus is saying.  He can only hear Jesus saying that he must be born again.  But, Jesus isn’t talking about the physical process of birth.  He is talking about the spiritual process of becoming fully human.  And, he’s telling Nicodemus that he needs to look at things a new way.

It’s not just about us, you see.  It’s really about God.

Being born of the Spirit is not something that we can do for ourselves.  It’s something that only God can do for us.  Like the physical process of birth, our role is a frightenly passive one.

Knowing more about God in this sense is the same as allowing ourselves to be known by God.  It is not something we possess as much as it is something that possesses us.  It’s a new beginning that we experience when we see ourselves through God’s eyes.

To get a sense of this, picture yourself standing in a room full of people when someone important to you walks in.  You have been expecting them.  You have been looking forward to being seen by them.  You wonder if they will notice you.  Will they come over to you?  Will they be glad to see you?

If they look up and smile -- if they seem genuinely glad to see you -- then you will feel a new sense of self.  You will feel a new sense of being alive.

If, however, they see you, but look around to find someone else or they greet you only because they think social convention requires it, then you will feel a sense of disappointment.  You will feel a part of you slip away.

We are created in this sense through the eyes of another.

Maybe you have had the experience of being discovered by someone -- a teacher who saw you as a musician, a coach who saw you as an athlete, a mentor who saw you as a leader or a parent who saw you as special.  They knew that you had what it takes before you did.  You were known by them before you knew yourself.

And, if you think about it, you will realize that their believing in you allowed you to become who you are.  They didn’t just notice a talent that was there.  They participated in the creation of it.  You would not be you, if you had not first seen yourself through their eyes.             

We are born again from above when we allow ourselves to be known by God.

A funny thing happens when we see ourselves through God's eyes.  We discover that God likes us.  Notwithstanding all the things that we have done, and all of the things that we have left undone, God notices us the minute he walks into the room.  He smiles at us and immediately comes over to greet us.

But, we also discover that God sees something in us that we had not seen in ourselves.  We come to understand that God is calling something forth from us that we did not understand we had to give.

Our salvation, it turns out, usually doesn’t look anything like we thought it would.  It’s not the product of a mathematical equation, or something captured on a balance sheet.

Because it’s not just about us!  It’s about God.  Being born again from above is not just about saving us.  It’s about saving all of God’s creation.  It’s about saving the world.

And, it’s not something we control.  It’s more like the wind.  It blows where it chooses.  You hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it blows.

This, I think, is what God is telling Abraham and Sarah.  I have blessed you so that you may become a blessing.  The promise of blessing was not just for their sakes, but so that all the families of the earth may be blessed.  They were chosen to see the world through God’s eyes.  They were chosen to love what God loves, and to care about what God cares about.  They were chosen to want for the world what God wants for the world. 

This, I think, is what Jesus is telling Nicodemus.  “God did not send the Son into the World to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”   

Look at the world through the eyes of God.  In the end, it’s not just about us.  It’s about God.

But, be prepared.

Salvation may not look how you thought it would.  You may find that God sees more than you thought, and that you look different than you thought.  You may find that God is calling you to become something different than you ever imagined. 

Be prepared.

I knew a lawyer once – more of a scribe than a Pharisee really.  He was comfortable in his law practice.  He had already identified most of the variables in his equation, and the balance sheet was looking pretty good. 

And, then Sally looked at me and said something like, “you know, you ought to be a priest.”  The more we talked and the more I tried to look at things the way that I thought God was looking at things, the more I could feel the wind. 

Now it has blown me out of a career in which I at least thought I knew what I was doing and into a pulpit where it is clear to me that I do not.  Here I stand, called to tell my story to my friends, who in many cases already know me better than I know myself.

Be prepared.

God, it seems, has a mighty sense of humor!

AMEN 

Note: I owe the image of “receiving ourselves through the eyes of another” and the essence of the examples that I have used to illustrate it to James Alison.  Although he addresses this insight in several places, the most complete is in Chapter 9 (which is titled “the strangeness of this passivity …”) of On Being Liked   (New York: The Cross Roads Publishing Co., 2003). 

Comments? Contact The Rev. Canon George M. Maxwell, Jr. at: gmaxwell@stphilipscathedral.org

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