Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary
The encounter between Jesus and Nicodemus, a leading Jerusalem Pharisee, is presented as a dialogue—even a sort of interview. Nicodemus’s queries are so brief as to function simply as prompts for sections of Jesus’ discourse, the first of several such discourses in John’s gospel.
In congregational contexts where members’ “working theology” is heavily influenced by a framework of soul-salvation, characteristic of Western missionary endeavors of the 19th and early 20th centuries, the meaning of these seventeen verses is sometimes collapsed into the familiar “salvation formula” of v. 16. God’s “giving” of the Son is presumed to refer strictly to Jesus’s death, interpreted in evangelical settings as blood-sacrifice for sin. To be sure, Jesus speaks in v 14 of his “lifting up,” comparing it to Moses’ lifting up of a serpent in the wilderness (see Num 21:4-9). Yet, the parallelism Jesus establishes evokes the dynamic of healing, not blood-sacrifice. The text as a whole suggests that God’s “giving” of the Son characterizes Jesus’ whole ministry, not simply his death.
A narrow interpretation of God’s giving of Jesus has also led to preaching that stresses just one of the two quite natural meanings of the Greek phrase meaning either “born again” or “born from above” (vv 4,7). To be “born again” has become a catchword for deliverance from damnation, an idea absent from John. Here again, a “flattening” the lively, polyvalent semantics of this text robs us of the richly metaphorical, theologically evocative depth of Jesus’ teaching.
In some contexts, an effective sermon might begin by exploring, historically, how it has come about that Christians so often reduce Jesus’ discourse in this chapter to v 16. We would do well to shed the stance of the smug—and dangerously anti-Semitic!—Christian insider: “We, the born-again, are so much smarter than clueless [Jewish] Nicodemus!” Verse 16 does not state that it is only in Jesus’ eventual death that God, out of love for the world, “gives” the Son. In what might this “giving” consist? Might Jesus’ “I AM” sayings—unique to John’s gospel—provide clues to what God’s giving of the Son for this beloved world means? Jesus identifies himself as light for the world, true bread, trustworthy shepherd, water of life. To be sure, our Lenten journey will lead us to the cross; but as we travel, John unfolds like a grand tapestry the richness of God’s multi-dimensional giving of the Son for the life of the world.
Another approach would be to begin by issuing Jesus’ invitation to his first disciples: “come and see” (1:39). We might imagine Nicodemus, skeptical but curious, lingering at the edge of the growing crowds. Drawing alongside him, we watch and listen as further readings from John through the Sundays of Lent unveil for us the world-saving self-giving of Godself in Jesus. We have miles to go and much to learn as we follow him. Who is this God-sent One who feeds a multitude, commands the sea, heals our blindnesses, and calls life out of a cold tomb?
We will need to follow to the end. In gathering darkness, we shall climb the last hill and witness the self-outpouring of the lifted-up Son of Man, crucified. It shall look like shattering failure, a noble cause utterly lost. Yet this, paradoxically, is the manifestation of the saving power of God. Jesus’ outpouring of his human life shall soon unmask this world’s most deadly and brittle deceit: that greatness consists in the power to exclude and exploit, to intimidate and dominate, to grasp and to hoard, all the while wrapping oneself in a protective, self-justifying web of lies.
That which looks like the end, shall prove to be the beginning. In trusting and following the self-giving Son of God, we shall know, now and hereafter, the Life “from above” that death itself cannot extinguish.
Insights into Biblical Greek Grammar and Syntax 