I don’t need to tell anyone that we live in anxious times. A lot of people are genuinely afraid right now, and not without reason. To put it mildly, as a rule, we don’t like fear. It is by definition deeply uncomfortable. But fear serves a purpose. It alerts us to danger and acts as a cue for action. That makes fear a place of possibility and creativity, if we can get over our discomfort in it and use it as a starting place for needed change. I was reminded of all this by today’s Gospel reading. The Gospel tells the story of Nicodemus, a Pharisee who comes to visit Jesus at night, to keep his interest in the upstart teacher and wonderworker a secret. The two get into a famous discussion in which Jesus tells him he must be “born from above” (or “born again”), which he interprets literally and gets very confused. It’s a beautiful and playful interaction. But since this Lent I’m basing my writing on prayers, I thought I’d look at what the collect of the day had to say about it. And it took me a bit by surprise. It reads:
Holy God, whose Spirit’s breath prompts our seeking:
transform the night-time of our fear into a welcoming womb for us and all the world;
through Jesus Christ, in whom we are born anew.
Amen.
I have to admit that my first instinct was surprise at the inclusion of womb imagery. We’re just so accustomed to liturgical language ignoring the feminine imagery in the Bible that even people like me who want to embrace it are surprised when we see it! But birthing and womb imagery is all over the story — Nicodemus even asks Jesus if he expects him to crawl back into his mother’s womb!
At any rate, after my initial and completely unwarranted surprise at the imagery the prayer uses, what stood out to me is its focus on fear as the starting point of transformation: “Transform the night-time of our fear into a welcoming womb…”
Again, fear is a signal to us that something isn’t right, that we must act. With God’s help, we can come to see it as an opportunity — not just to keep us from harm’s way (though this is not unimportant), but also to imagine different, better, more just futures and to work towards them. An uncertain situation will come to a conclusion one way or the other; but we aren’t passive or powerless in the face of it.
The story of Jesus and Nicodemus doesn’t have a resolution in the moment, but we find out by the end of John’s Gospel that the night-time of Nicodemus’s fear did end up a place of transformation for him. This man who was too frightened to talk to Jesus in the light of day lest anyone see him ends up being one of the men who claimed Jesus’ body and ensured he had a proper burial:
Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came [to the cross with Joseph of Arimathea], bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, in accordance with Jewish burial custom. (John 19.38-40)
In the darkness of his fear, Nicodemus took a big step of faith and approached Jesus. And later, when Jesus’ closest disciples had all fled, he came again in confidence to show up for Jesus. It’s a remarkable transformation of character, and one that should be a source of inspiration.
Whether in big or small ways, personal or social, psychological or physical, we all face fear. I wonder if, as this prayer suggests, we might have the faith to engage with it with curiosity and creativity, and use our fear as a jumping off point for needed change.
Holy God, whose Spirit’s breath prompts our seeking:
transform the night-time of our fear into a welcoming womb for us and all the world;
through Jesus Christ, in whom we are born anew.
Amen.
Matthew Root 