Bible Commentaries

Nicodemus

John 3:4

Nicodemus did not deny the doctrine of the Second Birth, he merely started a difficulty. Though a master in Israel, he was apparently destitute of that spiritual insight which sees the possibility of the very stones being raised up as children unto Abraham—that sensitive and hopeful ideality which sees everywhere the throbbings of an inner life, and believes instantly in every word which even remotely hints at immortality. Nicodemus was a literalist; his ideas were cramped by the fixed meanings of words; he never could have written the Apocalypse; seal and trumpet and vial were not for such men as Nicodemus. He was startled by the word "born"; probably he doubted its exactness; it was, in his estimation, too specific in its common meaning to be literally applied to anything else; consequently he took his stand upon nature, and judged as if there were but one way by which life could come into the world. He who had been convinced by the miracle was astounded by the metaphor. What if there were no metaphors? What if pillars never became arches? What if dogma never coloured and brightened into parable? The answer of Jesus Christ was strikingly consistent with his whole method of teaching; the strangeness of his language excited attention, provoked thought, sometimes awakened controversy, and John 3:10

Nicodemus was a master of Israel, and "these things" he did not know. The question put to him by Jesus Christ was not necessarily a condemnation; we may import a tone of rebuke into the inquiry, but it does not follow that Jesus Christ intended to rebuke his visitor. A man cannot be much beyond his age; some great men are simply abreast with it. The child is not greatly ahead of his toys, nor is he to blame for his nursery enjoyments and nursery satisfactions: they suit the child, they are the measure of his age, they represent his present capacity. Jesus Christ was anxious to impress upon the mind of Nicodemus that there were things which even he, though a master of Israel, did not know. Our knowledge is helped by our ignorance: we are chastened by wisely recognised imperfections. If we could apply the rule which inspires this inquiry we should have no uncharitableness, we should feel that some brothers are older than others, that some students are a page farther on than other students are; nor is the one class of students to be praised, and the other to be vehemently and unsparingly condemned. Blessed is that faithful reader who has read up to the place where he now is, without skipping any, slurring any, but who has patiently, thankfully, and sympathetically received the message word by word. Do not overchide him lest he be cast down with sorrow overmuch; recognise his progress, and tell him there are still things beyond. It is important to bring into view the things that have not yet been fully realised, because they may change all that has gone before, not in solidity, not in substance, not in the best spiritual uses; but they may set all things in a new relation, and invest all things with a new colour, and bring the mind to feel that even in its farthest studies it has but begun its divine schooling.

Or we may take it from the point of rebuke:—"Art thou a master of Israel, and knowest not these things?" then what is the good of thy mastery? Thine is a nominal mastership, thine is an office without an inspiration; thine is only the action of mechanism, it does not belong to the great astronomic forces and ministries of the universe. Away with thy mastership of Israel! It is a name, a label, a designation, but within there is nothing equal to the name which thou dost bear. It is a pity that a man remains nominally a master of Israel when he has lost his real mastership. It is one of the last lessons which a man is willing to learn, to know when it is time for him to retire. The man thinks he has still something more to say, some other work to do, some higher height to climb; it is hard for him to see the coming man and to say, "He must increase, but I must decrease": it is enough for a man to live in his own generation, and bless the souls that are nearest to him. This seems to be an easy thing to say, but it is almost impossible to utter it from the heart. Yet masterships are good, though they are temporary. A man who has taught us the alphabet has done us a service, though he may not be able to read as he ought to read the language in which he was born: yet he has introduced us to it. Let us be thankful for all past masterships, for all vanished schools of honest thinking and honest working; they were up to date, they told all they knew, but they never said it was all that was to be told. So let masterships be ruled by the spirit of progress, coming into full bloom, flourishing awhile, fading out, and yet not allowed to leave the world without recognition and gratitude and honour. It is difficult to combine the old and the new: the old is looked upon with superstition, the new is regarded as turbulent; or the old looks upon the new with suspicion, and the new looks back upon the old with vexation and with a spirit of resentment. Yet how many souls have to live as between the two, holding with the tenacity of love all things that are true and therefore old, yet willing to look forward to new developments, new aspects, new views, and to give them a welcome and assurance of hospitality. This is hard work, only a few men can do it: the great lesson to be learned by those who cannot do it is that they are not to find fault, to be impatient, to be fruitful of condemnation and eloquent in deprecation; they should rather say, These men are our leaders, teachers, forerunners; we cannot keep up with them, but little by little we shall conquer the ground they have traversed. How hard it is for men to know that truth passes through phases, that every phase has its own particular time of revelation; and how difficult to learn that no man is expected to know more than what God himself has graciously revealed for the time being. Abandon the idea that there is any finality in thought. The utmost that the most vigorous thinker can accomplish is to begin. It is not in man to end. God hath yet more to show us, teach us, and reveal unto us, and put us in trust of; let us patiently await all further disclosures, and not await them in a spirit of contemplation and dreaminess, but in a spirit of industry and faithfulness The servant who works most shall know most.

All these principles have definite applications. We may admit the principles, yet it may cost us much to apply them. The application of those principles would cut down a great deal of our present action and thought. It is hard work for any minister even to indicate those applications. He may be misunderstood; men can only go at a certain rate, and if you hurry them beyond their natural pace they complain, grow weak, and fretfully resent the scourge that is meant to accelerate their progress. What say we to a man who is found in the midst of June, with all its wealth of light and blossom and colour and promised fruitfulness, with his head prone to the earth, and voice choked with groaning, and who, on being asked why he moans, replies, When I think of the severity of last winter, its snows and frosts and bitter winds, I cannot be happy today; I remember the winter that is gone, my thoughts live amid the cold snow, the dark nights, the tempestuous winds? Would that man talk rationally? What would be the view taken of him by ordinary observers? They would say, The winter is over and gone, this is summer; we are not called to the recollection of the past winter, but to the enjoyment of a present gift of light and beauty: the rain is over and gone, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land: stand up and praise the Lord. That would seem to be the voice of reason and the voice of nature. There could be no difficulty in a general acceptance of this principle; the difficulty resides in the all but impossibility of its theological and Christian application. There are men now who are thinking about the agonies of Christ, Calvary, its crucifixion, its pain, its cruel wounds: all these are historical verities, all these are tragedies that ought to make the heart ache, but they are over. Christ is risen, Christ is enthroned, Christ is in heaven: why seek ye the living among the dead? Christians are called to summer joys, and summer song, and summer liberties and hopes. Are ye masters in Israel, and know not these things? Paul says, "Yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we him no more:" he is the enthroned Lord, he is seated upon his Father's throne, and we have to deal with the present aspect of Christian history and Christian pro phecy. Do we then forget the winter that is gone? We say, Probably owing to its severity we enjoy the gentleness and graciousness of the summer. So when we think of Gethsemane and Calvary and the Cross, and the pierced hands and pierced feet and wounded side and thorn-crushed temples, we say, The summer of our joy came out of the winter of that endurance. We are not to live backwards; our faces are towards the light, and no man can hold up his face towards the noonday of Christian truth and love and hope without being provoked by a gentle provocation to song and joy and sacred delight. This is the precious gift of God to every believing soul. Rejoice always, be glad in a risen Lord; even when you sit down to break the memorial bread and drink the memorial cup, remember that the words are, "Ye do these things till the Lord come." It is a prospective interview that makes the retrospective review sacred and fruitful of solemn joy.

Art thou a master of Israel, and readest thou the letter of the Bible? So many men go to the wrong Bible, therefore they are afraid the Bible may be taken from them. No man can take love from the heart, devotion from the soul, trust from the spirit. You may steal a document, but you cannot steal a revelation. If we have only a theologian's Bible, it may be taken from us any day. If we have God revealed to the heart through the medium of the Bible we are independent of all criticism, all hostility; we have a sanctuary into which we can retire and within whose walls we can be for ever safe. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is superstition. Even many Christians have hold of the wrong Bible; that is to say, they have hold of the Bible by the wrong end. So they are always living in an age of unbelief; they are always saying, The age is oscillating between rationalism and superstition. The men who have hold of the wrong Bible live a troubled life; there is not a window in their houses that faces the south; they live in gloom and sadness and apprehension; every new volume of short essays published in criticism upon the Bible is thought to be another ebullition of the devil. Art thou a master of Israel, and troubled by any assault that is made upon the sanctuary of revelation? First be sure that you do not misunderstand the assailants; they may be making no such assault, they may only be aiming to clear away clouds and demolish fictions, and cleanse the air of superstitions, and liberate the mind from iniquitous bondage; it is due to them that we should clearly understand what they are talking about and aiming at. There are those who go to the Bible for the wrong things, and they are disappointed. What say you to a man who, wanting health, fixes upon the South of France for his winter's abode; but in journeying thither he is told that he may not have sufficiently considered certain peculiarities attaching to that portion of the earth?—Are you aware, quoth the one, that there are two distinct theories of the geological formation of the South of France? Are you aware that botanists differ about the fauna and the flora of the South of France? Are you aware that there are many contentions about the right political division of Continental countries? Saith the man, Why this bother? why this rude, strange, irrelevant talk? I am going to the South of France not because of geological formations or botanical curiosities, or political and imperial divisions and sovereignties: there the fresh air blows, there the sun is warm, there all nature is a kind nurse, a loving mother, and back from the South of France I shall bring health, spring, hope. That is a wise speech. The man went to the South of France for the right thing, and he secured it, and he has returned in full enjoyment of the blessing he went in quest of. There are those who go to the Bible timorously, and saith one, Do you know there are two theories about the first chapters of Genesis? Are you aware that some persons have doubts whether the serpent really did speak to Eve? Are you aware that some parts of the Pentateuch are postexilian in their composition? Saith the man, What is this craze? what are these long words? what can be the meaning of this muddle of polysyllables? I go to the Bible to see if the fresh air blows there, if there be aught spoken to the soul, if there be any touch that makes me live again: as to Genesis , whether it be first or last or midst, pre-exilian or postexilian, Mosaic or written by John the Baptist, these are not the questions I am asking. I am saying, what is the living line of the book? what is the inner, eternal, redeeming spirit of the book? That man's Bible can never be taken from him; he has laid up riches where moth and dust do not consume, and where thieves do not break through nor steal. That Bible is hidden in the heart; that revelation is an eternal treasure; the Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit that this is the very revelation of God. In this sense the Bible asks only to be read—to be read patiently, thoroughly, sympathetically, to see if it cover not the whole breadth of life, answering all its deepest inquiries, and breathing gospels upon its broken-hearted penitence. Art thou a master of Israel, and hast been seeking to bolster up some book simply because thou hast been afraid that if its mechanical structure be altered its spirit will evaporate? That is not mastership; that is bondage. How is it that the Bible outlives all assailants, and breathes its benediction upon awakening and enlightening souls? It is because the spirit of the book is the Spirit of God; because the message of the book is a message of righteousness, atonement, reconciliation, spiritual purification, and the ultimate triumph of grace over sin.

There is a theologian's Bible as there is a physiologist's body. An interview with a physician would frighten you. Were he to tell you all his polysyllables you would no longer believe you are alive; were he to ask you about the curious nomenclature of the body, you would declare that you had no such things in you, you would protest vehemently that you never heard of them. And yet he would be perfectly right—he is a physiologist, and no physiologist could ever be content without an enormous quantity of Latin; he thinks that physiology depends upon the Latin language for its real construction and the proper application of all its principles. There is an analyst's water. If you were to spend a day with an analyst you would never take a glass of water more as long as you live; he could frighten you out of water-drinking, and he could frighten you out of bread-eating; if he lay before you the exact constituents of the last meal you consumed you would regret that you ever rose from your bed. But there is another body, the body that was rocked by your mother, and sustained by your friends; there is another water, there is another bread, there are great ministries in nature of the motherliest sort, meant to sustain and cheer and enrich and consolidate our life. So there is a theologian's Bible; let the theologians keep it: it has never done them any good, and it will never do anybody any good. The Bible we all want is our mother's Bible, the heart Bible, the Bible that stoops down to the life to kiss it and bless it and lift it up, and breathe into it daily inspiration of divine sustenance and assurance of immortality. That Bible is open to the poorest woman, the tiniest child, the wisest man; it is the world's wide-open book, printed in infinite letters, so that the blind may see it.

Art thou a master of Israel, and knowest not the meaning of Christ in the constitution of his visible body the Church? Yet what gateways we have put up round the Church. We have made it a theologian's church; we have admitted into the Church persons who have very clear views. Be perfectly sure that if any man has very clear views he never saw the Church. so-called clear views have torn the Cross of Christ into splinters. The only view I can have of my Saviour is that he loved me, and gave himself for me, and has by his Spirit told me to say this in all my prayers, and by saying it with my heart I shall lay hold upon eternal life. This would involve a great many persons being in the Church who are at present frightened away from it. Jesus Christ never frightened any man away from himself who really wanted simply and sincerely to see him and know his message and purpose. The disciples would have had a very extraordinary Church; there would have been no children in it, there would have been no women in it who were so earnest as to cry after the Master for pity and for the exercise of his power; there would have been nobody in it but themselves. It is a sophism of the human heart that only a man's self is really the prime favourite of heaven. The Church is hindered when one man asks another to agree with him in opinion. What is your opinion? how long have you had that opinion? who gave you the right to impose that opinion upon any other living creature? Let us develop individual responsibility; let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind: every one of us shall give account of himself to Christ. Let each soul have its own view, its own Saviour, its own rapture, its own assured heaven, and let us find our agreement in our spiritual division, and not in our intellectual monotony.

Art thou a master of Israel, and art thou fearing death? Now there is no death: death is abolished: the body drops away, but the body never truly lived; it was enlivened, but it never lived: to live is to live for ever. If masters of Israel are afraid of death, and afraid because there is panic in the heart, and afraid of loss, and afraid of affliction, and afraid because of tumult, where is their Christianity? Mastery in everything means repose; mastery means peace; mastery means rest: he only is a master of Israel who says, Let the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea, still God is our refuge and strength; let all the seas thunder themselves into everlasting destruction, no tempest can touch the river which makes glad the city of God.

Prayer

Almighty God, our cry is for thy love. Thou hast made known thy love in Jesus Christ our Lord. Without thy love we cannot live; thy love gives us light and life and hope and joy. God is love. May we be like God; may we live in God through Jesus Christ our Saviour. Help us to know that we live and have our being in God; take out of us all unworthy self-trust, and may we live by faith and not by sight: Lord, increase our faith. The just shall live by faith. We would live that higher life, we would behold that furthest outlook, we would see descending heaven: then shall our life be glad with great joy, nor shall our gladness be content with itself, it shall go out unto others, until all men who know us feel the sunshine of our joy. Enable us to know ourselves, our proper measure before God and before one another. May we never cease to do that which is right in the sight of God, come what may; may our purpose be one of righteousness and charity, and may our course be straight on, knowing that righteousness and charity can only end in heaven. Thou knowest the burdens we have to bear, thou knowest all the tears we shed in secret; thou knowest our hearts and lives altogether: minister unto us according to our need, keep us by thy love, sustain us by thy tender grace, and give us confidence that when this present day shall cease our sun of life shall arise upon the clime of heaven. Help every one of us to be better; help the best to be better still: speak a word of hope to the soul that has no hope in itself; and call men who are wandering far away back to the home they have left. Let grace, mercy, and peace be shed abroad abundantly upon us; may our hearts be warm with the love of God. Hear thou in heaven thy dwelling-place, and when thou hearest, Lord, forgive. Amen.