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Posted: February 27th, 2008 at 1:51am By: Rev. Rebecca Schlatter
Last Saturday I taught some junior high kids about Jesus' death, but I doubt they took away many specifics. What they learned in general, however, was well worth teaching: We are allowed to talk about death, and we don't have to be afraid of it.
As they grow up, this conversation is a gift these kids probably won't find too many places outside the church. Fear of death and its corollaries — fear of failure, fear of loss — invade everything from relationships to careers to leisure time to healthcare. How can I avoid losing this person someday? What if I don't have enough time to achieve my goals? What if I miss out on an opportunity? A loved one's health is suffering, and it's scary; what did he or she do "wrong"?
Human wiring for survival leads us to seek life and avoid death and pain. Taken to an extreme, however, these fears can sneak into any situation and muddy our thinking, stir up anxiety, and hamper our decisions. Getting to the bottom of the fear — which most of us need to practice repeatedly — helps us find our peaceful place once again in God's love and care, which are so much bigger than death.
I think of this practice as similar to Nicodemus' experience of Jesus, in which he is introduced to a God bigger than the one he has known. In John's gospel, Nicodemus comes to Jesus "at night." For what, it's not exactly clear. Whatever it is that he wants, he appears to receive something else: a call to change. Jesus says to him rather abruptly, "No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above."
Naturally, Nicodemus is confused. He knows about being born, and he knows that one cannot re-enter the womb. But that's not the kind of birth Jesus is talking about. He's not talking about being born a second time, but about being born differently — receiving a new start and a new way of belonging, this time "in the Spirit."
This Spirit is unpredictable — like the wind, you don't know where it comes from or where it goes. This is God's Spirit, and it is really big — so big that it encompasses love for the whole world and eternal life for all who believe (John 3:16).
John never says directly whether Nicodemus was indeed changed. But Nicodemus shows up two more times in the gospel, and something is definitely different. In Chapter 7, he appears in daylight to speak up to his cronies the Pharisees on Jesus' behalf. Later in the gospel, he appears again after Jesus' body has been taken down from the cross, ready to be anointed and buried. Even as most of Jesus' disciples have fled, here comes Nicodemus, prepared with supplies and ready to anoint Jesus' body.
How far he had come from his curious nighttime visit! This extraordinary ministry makes me wonder if Nicodemus got it after all. I wonder if he could feel, even the tiniest bit, the faint blowing of God's Spirit in the midst of a terrible death. I wonder if he had even a small hope that this God would indeed turn out to be bigger than death, just as Jesus had said.
Sometimes that's all we get: the faintest blowing of God's Spirit, the smallest hope that death might not get the last word. But those are enough to put a crack in the fear of death. And they happen more frequently when people are truly free to share how they experience loss and failure and fear, and how big God is, and how resurrection happens again and again in our lives.
If we are to have those conversations, then practicing talking about death is a great place to start.
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Schlatter.
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Last Saturday I taught some junior high kids about Jesus' death, but I doubt they took away many specifics. What they learned in general, however, was well worth teaching: We are allowed to talk about death, and we don't have to be afraid of it.
As they grow up, this conversation is a gift these kids probably won't find too many places outside the church. Fear of death and its corollaries — fear of failure, fear of loss — invade everything from relationships to careers to leisure time to healthcare. How can I avoid losing this person someday? What if I don't have enough time to achieve my goals? What if I miss out on an opportunity? A loved one's health is suffering, and it's scary; what did he or she do "wrong"?
Human wiring for survival leads us to seek life and avoid death and pain. Taken to an extreme, however, these fears can sneak into any situation and muddy our thinking, stir up anxiety, and hamper our decisions. Getting to the bottom of the fear — which most of us need to practice repeatedly — helps us find our peaceful place once again in God's love and care, which are so much bigger than death.
I think of this practice as similar to Nicodemus' experience of Jesus, in which he is introduced to a God bigger than the one he has known. In John's gospel, Nicodemus comes to Jesus "at night." For what, it's not exactly clear. Whatever it is that he wants, he appears to receive something else: a call to change. Jesus says to him rather abruptly, "No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above."
Naturally, Nicodemus is confused. He knows about being born, and he knows that one cannot re-enter the womb. But that's not the kind of birth Jesus is talking about. He's not talking about being born a second time, but about being born differently — receiving a new start and a new way of belonging, this time "in the Spirit."
This Spirit is unpredictable — like the wind, you don't know where it comes from or where it goes. This is God's Spirit, and it is really big — so big that it encompasses love for the whole world and eternal life for all who believe (John 3:16).
John never says directly whether Nicodemus was indeed changed. But Nicodemus shows up two more times in the gospel, and something is definitely different. In Chapter 7, he appears in daylight to speak up to his cronies the Pharisees on Jesus' behalf. Later in the gospel, he appears again after Jesus' body has been taken down from the cross, ready to be anointed and buried. Even as most of Jesus' disciples have fled, here comes Nicodemus, prepared with supplies and ready to anoint Jesus' body.
How far he had come from his curious nighttime visit! This extraordinary ministry makes me wonder if Nicodemus got it after all. I wonder if he could feel, even the tiniest bit, the faint blowing of God's Spirit in the midst of a terrible death. I wonder if he had even a small hope that this God would indeed turn out to be bigger than death, just as Jesus had said.
Sometimes that's all we get: the faintest blowing of God's Spirit, the smallest hope that death might not get the last word. But those are enough to put a crack in the fear of death. And they happen more frequently when people are truly free to share how they experience loss and failure and fear, and how big God is, and how resurrection happens again and again in our lives.
If we are to have those conversations, then practicing talking about death is a great place to start.
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Schlatter.
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