Encuentros inolvidables. Roberto Badenas

the mention of water and Spirit is a clear allusion to the principles of creation. The new birth signifies a new creation. Thus the action is not human, but divine.

      Jesus explains, “In mankind there are two levels of existence, the physical and the spiritual. Each can transmit only the life it possesses. The flesh transmits the weak human condition. The spirit transmits the power of God.”

      To explain further, human aspirations reach no higher than economic well-being, family satisfaction, or personal prestige. From this level humans can never hope to become all that God has planned for them to be, nor can they overcome their own innate weaknesses.

      “Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit.” (John 3:6, NIV). Man can defeat his spiritual impotence only with God’s power.

      The new birth Jesus suggests means entering into a new reality whose center is God and not the human. It means passing from a life of dependence, restricted and choked by human limitations, to a life free and open to all the possibilities of the Spirit. It means passing from the reality of condemnation and death to the vibrancy of new life.

      Surprised at Jesus’ words, Nicodemus asks how this change is possible.

      With irony Jesus forces him to look for life’s meaning outside the bounds of his religious upbringing. “You are Israel’s teacher . . . and you do not understand these things?” (John 3:10).

      Nicodemus knows so much. Religion is his area of expertise. Living and moving in a world of theological argument and debate, he stands out as a learned scholar. But somehow he has missed the most elementary of lessons. He has not learned that the spiritual life depends not upon his own theological knowledge about God but upon his relationship with Him. He has not learned that it is possible for a person to obtain the high title of Doctor of the Sacred Scriptures without a personal relationship with the God revealed in Scripture.

      “You should not be surprised,” Jesus says, “at my saying, ‘You must be born again.’ The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit” (John 3:7, 8).

      The spiritual rebirth changes violent men into apostles of peace. Those formerly consumed by hatred can now forgive and love. The erstwhile mean, self-indulgent and egotistical person now volunteers his services in the most generous enterprises… One doesn’t need to understand the process of regeneration. The important thing is that it occurs, and for it to occur we must respond to the love of God in our hearts, constraining us to surrender to Him. The powerful energy of grace supplies the rest. No one knows how it occurs, but in a given moment it breaks into our lives and transforms us. The new birth cannot be explained. It can only be experienced. And not just once for all time, but each and every day (1 Cor. 15:31; 2 Cor. 4:16).

      Suddenly, Nicodemus realizes the shallowness of his knowledge of God. He has tried to understand from his own point of reference, but divine creativity cannot be enclosed within the framework of theology. The fault does not lie in his sources but in his interpretation. The Old Testament is a continual lesson on the incredible initiative of divine love. But just as it is difficult for the materialist to imagine a reality apart from things, the legalist cannot imagine a relationship with God other than in terms of obedience to law.

      Revealing his confusion, Nicodemus asks, “How can this be?”

      These are his last recorded words of that night encounter. From here on Nicodemus silently listens to this unusual Friend. Jesus tells him, “We speak of what we know, and we testify to what we have seen” (John 3:9-11).

      Nicodemus came looking for a messiah to rule over Israel. But God has decided to rule over all people. His Envoy will be king over all who wish to be born into a life without end in a kingdom of love without frontiers. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).

      If God loves without barriers and wishes us happiness without limits, His objective—when He sent the Messiah—could not have been judgment, as Nicodemus and his colleagues believed. The judgment is the ultimate consequence of human choice. The mission of the Son was to bring life, now and forever. His aim was not to destroy some and save others, but to bring hope to all.

      Jesus prefers volunteers to pawns who are forced into compliance. His kingdom cannot be established by force, but by loving persuasion.

      Jesus reads Nicodemus’ mind as he wonders, “What must one do to have this life? How can one be born again?”

      Humanity, suffering from a deathblow deep within, needs only to grasp the new life as one with a serious wound pins his hope on any available cure.

      And Jesus had the answer. “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him” (John 3:14, 15, NIV).

      The human race condemned itself to death by separating from God, the only Source of life. Our only chance of survival is to connect our mortality with eternity. Our destiny depends upon our final choice: to give in to the Light of life or to separate ourselves to pursue the clouds of nothingness. There are no other choices. In some dangerous births the only solution is surgical intervention. So we, too, can see the light only through the intervention of the Surgeon “from above.” It’s a radical solution, but in just such a solution is our salvation.

      “Whoever lives by the truth comes into the light” (John 3:21, NIV). With these words of hope echoing in his ears, Nicodemus leaves. This restless intellectual has found more than a teacher. However, though he exits marked forever by this disconcerting message, it will take time before he will act on what he has learned. His will be not a rapid “birth,” but a prolonged “gestation.”

      He could have become a new man right that night, entering into the service of the gospel. Instead he continued to work as a lawyer at the service of the law.

      Nicodemus waited three years before making his decision. Only when the Sanhedrin decided to arrest and finish once and for all with this revolutionary Preacher did Nicodemus finally risk himself in the Teacher’s defense. He waited, not for lack of conviction, but lack of courage. Too afraid of what others would think and of

      how a decision for Jesus would affect his career, he admired Him from a distance. Nicodemus ran the risk of never leaving the lukewarm group which God will eventually spit from His mouth. He waited to declare himself until he saw Jesus hanging on the cross that terrible Friday.

      Finally, remembering Jesus’ allusion to the serpent lifted up in the wilderness, he dared to stand and align himself with the crucified Jesus. When Pilate gave permission for Joseph of Arimathea to take the body of Jesus from the cross and give it an honored burial, Nicodemus contributed about 75 pounds of myrrh and aloes. Then, following Jewish custom, he and Joseph bound the body of Jesus with linen and spices. It was a final tribute to the One that Nicodemus had followed from afar, covering with perfume the wounds that his own cowardice had helped to inflict.

      After his first meeting with Jesus, Nicodemus returned to his own world. But beyond the shadows, in the distant horizon of his life, an inescapable sunrise had begun to dawn.

      By the Well

      Unquenchable thirst

      The fierce sun blazes in the midday sky, stifling and suffocating in the still air. Heat rises from the stones surrounding a well, and a dusty traveler tries in vain to protect Himself from the sweltering rays. He sits alone by the wellhead, for at this hour everyone has retreated to the relatively cool darkness of their home.

      Why has He chosen such a solitary time to wait by the well? Either morning or evening was the logical time. A chill envelops the plaza at dawn, bravely challenging the rising sun. And in the evening, almost imperceptibly at first, the coolness steals back as shadows lengthen and the heat slowly subsides.

      These are the hours when all along the path brown pitchers are seen bobbing above dark heads and white veils. Women’s laughter fills the air. Boys, wishing to be men, cluster bashfully upon the stepping-stones of the