Sermon 3/7/2020: Conversations by Night (Seminarian Sarah Krolak)

Seminarian Sarah Krolak

Second Sunday in Lent

March 7, 2020

Conversations by Night

When we were in college, my best friend Kate and I would have the most goofy, ridiculous conversations. We had inside jokes that made no sense whatsoever, and we were always joking and giggling together. We’d spend hours in almost nonstop laughter with these nonsensical conversations about puddles and stars and fish that I couldn’t explain even if I wanted to, because I’m not lying when I say they don’t make sense. There’s no actual point to them.

If you looked only at these conversations and at nothing else, you would think our friendship was quite different than it actually was. But. There were conversations we knew about that no one else did.

You see, after the sun went down, after everyone else had probably gone to bed, after we couldn’t tell if it was late night or early morning… something would shift. In the deep darkness of the night, our conversations changed. In the stillness of 2am, our tone shifted from silly and happy, to pensive and contemplative. The topic changed from puddles to our deepest fears and desires, our hopes for the world, our unanswered questions about life and the universe that would likely remain unanswered for our lifetime. But we’d puzzle through them together.

I treasure those late nights with Kate. Those were the nights where, even though it was dark, I felt seen and heard. And like I could tell her anything. Those were the nights where I could set aside everything that might have been holding me back in the daylight, and just let it out.

While it’s harder now to stay up that late than it was at 19, I think there’s something to be said about the nature of the deep of night that opened our relationship up to new ways of knowing each other. The night led us to some of our most vulnerable, curious, and daring conversations.

And I think Nicodemus knew this, too.

Nicodemus had a life that appeared one way in the daylight, in the public eye. He was a pharisee, a leader of the Jews. Unlike Kate and I, whose embodied and lived friendship didn’t depend on the thoughts or reactions of people around us, Nicodemus had a specific role in society. Things were expected of him. Talking to Jesus, admitting he believed that God was present with Jesus, seeking Jesus out with questions that weren’t trying to discredit him? That was not what was expected of him.

Nicodemus had questions that he needed answered, even though they weren’t what he was supposed to be asking. So he came to Jesus by night.

Now, there is a lot of speculation as to why he did this.

Maybe Jesus was super busy and didn’t have time to meet with anyone unless they came by night.

Maybe he was ashamed – in fact, a lot of people have interpreted his actions this way, saying that he was ashamed to show his faith in the light of day for all to see. And that Jesus knew this, and mocked him because of it. If you read their interaction through this lens of Nicodemus’ shame and Jesus’ judgmental response, that’s exactly what you get. Shame. And judgment.

 “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?”

“If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things?”

People who read the story in this way often point out that Nicodemus becomes increasingly more public in his faith as the book of John goes on. In chapter 7 he shows up to prevent Jesus from being arrested, and in chapter 19 he shows up with Joseph of Arimathea to provide the spices to prepare Jesus’s body for burial after the crucifixion. They praise his change from “hiding” his faith to publicly supporting Jesus.

But maybe when he came by night, it just wasn’t yet time for everyone else to know. Maybe nighttime is a great time to ask questions that you’re too nervous to ask in the day. The dark is safer somehow, in intimate conversations. It’s less judgmental.

Barbara Brown Taylor, in her book Learning to Walk in the Dark, talks about full solar spirituality and lunar spirituality. Full solar spirituality is so often lifted up as the ultimate goal in spirituality. She says, “it focuses on staying in the light of God around the clock, both absorbing and reflecting the sunny side of faith.” She says the danger of full solar spirituality is that “it tucks all the sinister stuff into the dark part, identifying God with the sunny part and leaving you to deal with the rest on your own time.”

The shame read into Nicodemus’s story is the result of a world that expects positive attitudes, a constant sense of divine presence, and unwavering faith. It is not only unrealistic to expect spiritual perfection from someone – it is unhealthy.

The sun does not shine all the time. It’s not supposed to. Even areas in higher latitudes that experience midnight sun and a sun that never sets in the summer, experience darkness the rest of the year.

Barbara Brown Taylor offers up lunar spirituality instead. She describes lunar spirituality as one “in which the divine light available to me waxes and wanes with the season.” She says “darkness is not dark to God; the night is as bright as the day.”

Lunar spirituality does not call doubt, fear, or shame “bad.” Instead, it opens us up to realizing the full presence of God even in the midst of our darkness, so much so that we cannot call it anything but good, just as God has called all creation good.

So what if we look at Nicodemus’s approaching in the night as part of the waxing and waning of lunar spirituality? What if we read this interaction not through a lens of judgment, but through a lens of empathy, or even humor?

Jesus’s responses become not judgmental, but profoundly caring.

“Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?” You mean you don’t understand everything there is to know??

“If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things?” I’m going to need you to trust me on this.

Looking at it this way leaves room for not only Nicodemus’ imperfection and ignorance but for our imperfection and ignorance. It not only makes it part of the conversation, but it makes it valid and okay to not understand. Jesus shows us time and again that he’s not concerned about us not understanding things. Experiencing the darkness of night and all it entails cannot separate you from God.

Doubt, fear, shame, questions, pulling back or taking space away – all of these are a normal part of our waxing and waning lives of faith. Sometimes, we, like Nicodemus, come to Jesus in the night. Whether literally or figuratively, we have all experienced a nighttime like this.

But the night is a great time for conversations. The night led my friend Kate and I to deeper friendship. The night led Nicodemus to Jesus to ask questions that he might not have asked otherwise. And the night isn’t only a place of questions or doubt or fear. It is also a place of storytelling. The night holds creative power – just think of the stories told around campfires.

Nicodemus’s questions led to some storytelling from Jesus that contained some stunning truths that were found in that night. He learned that God loves the world so much that God sent Jesus, not to condemn us, but to save us. To give us eternal life. He learned that we can be born of water and Spirit. That the Spirit of God is always with us, even though we don’t know where she comes from or where she is going. In baptism we are born of water and Spirit, and God promises to always be with us.

God is present with us in the light of day, yes. But God is especially present with us in the dark of night. Whether you are in the midst of night or day right now, God is with you and sees you. And as the sun goes down and the darkness sets in, know that God is ready for a great conversation… that can only come by night.

Amen.