Nicodemus, Part 2 - Revision history

Greetje: Nicodemus Part 2 moved to Nicodemus, Part 2

2008-10-09T17:18:33Z

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Greetje at 01:45, 1 October 2008

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Greetje: New page: {{info}}Nicodemus, Part 2 His wife was worried that his mind
Would sink beneath the waves behind
The battered boat of work and wealth
That used to float with pride and health
2008-09-25T03:38:30Z

New page: {{info}}Nicodemus, Part 2 His wife was worried that his mind Would sink beneath the waves behind The battered boat of work and wealth That used to float with pride and health<b...

New page
{{info}}Nicodemus, Part 2

His wife was worried that his mind Would sink beneath the waves behind The battered boat of work and wealth That used to float with pride and health Upon the sea of human praise Where Nicodemus spent his days Before the wedding of his son. That night something had come undone, She used to say, when people raised A question why the old man gazed So blankly in the months between The wedding and the shocking scene Before the stunned Sanhedrin in Jerusalem. Some days his thin, Gaunt face would simply stare between The artful piles of brown and green And yellow spices in the shop Where wealthy people used to stop And hear the Pharisee with awe Who knew his spices and his law. But now they worried with his wife, And even wondered if his life Could bear the darkness that now seemed To cover him.

The evening streamed Back through his mind that he had spent With Jesus. What that night had meant, He now would give his wealth and all His learning, if his baffled thrall Would give way to the precious light Of understanding. All his might And massive memory, his skill In law for turning God’s sweet will Into a map of tiny roads, Seemed useless to decipher codes That Jesus spoke about the need Of even Pharisees to heed His word, “You must be born again.” Tormented he would say, “Oh when, Dear God, will you break in and give Me light? He says I do not live, And without life will not have light, And that he is himself the bright And living fountain where the soul, In one deep draft, may have the whole Of sight that lives and life that sees. But then he says that none do please To come because we love the dark. ‘You love the dark,’ he said. ‘Just mark The hour that you came: the night. And why? Why Nicodemus? Flight? From scorn and disrespect? Behold Your god—the praise of man. As old As Adam and his wife, this dead And deadening god you love, instead Of Truth. How can a man believe When he desires more to receive The praise of men than see the light And beauty of his King? You might Be called a ruler of the Jews, But, Nicodemus, when you choose The pleasure of the praise of man Above your King, and shrink the span Of your delights from galaxies Down to the little looks that please Your shrunken soul, you are a slave To man, and blind from what you crave. Once more I say to you: Mere men Are vain. You must be born again.’”

Day after day the old man pressed Against these painful words as best He could to push them through the sieve Of thought to see if they might give Some sifted trace of how he might Receive the miracle of sight And be set free from all his fear Of man, and cleave to Truth, more dear Than all of man’s esteem. It seemed To him as likely as a dreamed- Of paralytic leaping through Jerusalem.

One night a few Days just before the Feast, his son, Whose recent wedding was the one Where Jesus made the finest wine, Came up from Galilee to dine With Nicodemus and to tell Him what had happened—how the spell Was broken that enslaved his heart With fear, and made him dread to part From any common path or take A lonely stand for truth, or make Himself the butt of ridicule, Or look as if he were a fool.

He told his father, “This has been My bondage and my lifelong sin— The fear of man—which seems bizarre To me because I know you are The opposite of that—a man Of courage. You can make a plan And take your stand, and let the whole World rage, and take your sacred scroll, And walk heroically in broad Daylight unfearing that some fraud Could ever put your soul to shame. I’ve often wondered how I came To be enslaved like this, when you, My father, are so free. I knew Somehow the secret must come from Your God, but I could never plumb Those depths, it seemed. Where you, unswayed, Would stand, I always felt afraid.” He paused. Till now he’d never seen His father’s face so soft. Serene Almost, but on the brink of tears. “The spell is broken, Father. Years Of slavery to fear. It’s gone. I thought you might enjoy the dawn Of my new life and how the curse Was broken. May I please rehearse The Story, Father?” “That would make Me very glad. There’s more at stake My son, than you can understand.

Please tell me of this mighty hand That set you free.” “It was a voice, My father, or perhaps the choice Alone inside his head. No hand Was even raised, nor any grand Or lofty speech. He simply thought And spoke, and all he meant was brought To pass.” “Who is it that you mean?” His father asked. “The man you’ve seen Turn water into wine. His name Is Jesus, and since then, his fame Is spreading like a fire. Do you Recall the royal legate who Is quartered in Capernaum?” “I do. He has a son with some Disease that no one understands.” “He came to Jesus, Father, hands Outstretched, and pleaded that he come And heal his son. For just a crumb, That’s all he asked. But Jesus stayed Away. Instead he spoke, and made The child completely well. With one Mere mighty word, ‘Go now; your son Will live,’ the deed was done. The boy Is free. I saw him, and the joy Of his whole house. It was the voice, My father, just the mighty choice Of Jesus, and the boy was free.

And, father, listen, did you see The old man in Jerusalem? Almost four decades, all of them Spent waiting by Bethesda pool, And Jesus asked him, like a fool, ‘Do you want to be healed?’ He said, ‘I have no one to lift my bed And carry me down to the edge.’ So Jesus said, ‘This is my pledge: Get up, take up your bed, and walk.’ And, Father, he was healed. They talk About it everywhere I go. One word, one mere command to show He can deliver anyone. Including me. The work was done Across the sea of Galilee. I followed him. I had to see This for myself. There were at least Five thousand men. When he had ceased His teaching, Jesus took five loaves Of barley bread and without stoves Or grain or grinding mill or yeast, He whispered something, and a feast Was spread for every person in That crowd. Including me.” The thin Old man with longing eyes stared at His happy son. “And, Father, that Was when it happened. Not the bread; It was the whisper. I was dead, And Jesus breathed on me his word, That I might feed on what I heard And be set free. And, Father, I Am free. I’m not afraid to die, Or live, or take a stand for him.

The future that before was grim With anxious thoughts, is like a field Of lilies now. The sky that pealed With frightful thunders in my mind Has never once this brightly shined. And all the gates of bravery, Once sealed and bolted shut for me, Are all flung wide and I am free. O, Father, everything on earth Is new. It’s like a second birth. The chains have fallen off. I’m free. I’m free! O, Father, do you see?” The old man said, “I think I do.” “The Lord will make it plain to you,” His son replied. “It won’t be long.”

The Feast of Booths arrived. The throng Of souls on pilgrimage could hear The words of Jesus crystal clear: “Believe in me and from your soul Will flow a stream of life.” The whole Crowd heard his teaching gladly. And The emissaries who had planned, With power from the Pharisees, To capture Jesus, failed to seize The Lord, and came back powerless. The Council flamed, “Will you transgress Against our word? We sent you out To bring the man. And do you flout Our right, and treat it like a whim?” “Sirs, no one ever spoke like him.” As Nicodemus listened, all The fear—the paralyzing thrall Of dread, the cowardice, the ache Inside for human praise, the lake Of slavery to terror, drained Out of his soul. At peace, unchained, He heard the rulers say, “You are A band of fools. Has any star Bowed to the moon, or Pharisee Believed in him?” Courageously Old Nicodemus stood and said, “Does our law judge a man instead Of giving him a hearing first?” The Pharisees were stunned. They cursed Beneath their breath. Then one of them Replied, “In all Jerusalem No one but children have believed In Jesus. They are all deceived. Or, Nicodemus, is there some New reason why his friends don’t come From Priests and Pharisees? Is there A key of which we’re not aware? Something, perhaps we do not see? Perhaps some light from Galilee?” And Nicodemus answered, “Yes. There is. And, O, that God would bless This Council with the eyes to see. Why do the wise refuse to be His friends? Because, O pious men— Because you must be born again.”

And now as we set candle two In place, dear Lord, please come and do This miracle of grace. Pour out On us this life, and end the drought Of anxious thirst for human praise. Undo this fear of man and raise Us from the dead. And we will then Exult that we are born again.