Nicodemus soon reveals the fact that he has come to Jesus, not as a solitary individual, but rather as the representative of a party, the adherent of a school. He speaks almost as if he had been deputed to state the case of many others, who had together been taking the mysterious person and mighty deeds of Jesus into careful consideration, and whose preliminary verdict he repeats in the well-weighed words, “We know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these signs that thou doest, except God be with him.” They had felt that they could not rest there. Having gone so far, they must go farther. Was it not advisable that one of their number should approach Jesus, and sound Him as to His doctrine? But that there might be no talk about it, let him go by night.
Nicodemus therefore comes to Jesus half in a receptive and half in a critical frame of mind. He craves more light. His judgment is suspended. He feels that he cannot make up his mind until he has a fuller knowledge of the facts. And so far he was quite reasonable. He was doing only what millions have done since. Christianity makes a mighty appeal to intellect as well as to feeling. It is to be accepted by men who are fully persuaded in their own minds. Christ is the Light of the world, and desires us to become Christians with open eyes, loving the highest only when we see that it is the highest. So far from seeking to hide anything, Christianity welcomes the fullest and most searching inquiry into its nature and credentials. It is not an esoteric religion, whose jealously guarded secrets are revealed only to a few initiates. Christ as the living Truth imparts Himself to all who have ears to hear and hearts to understand. While it is a Catholic dictum that mystery is the mother of devotion, it is a Protestant principle that knowledge is the mother of devotion. And both are true. The more we know of Christ and His religion, the more does our sense of wonder grow; the more we know of His Divine love, the more do we feel that it passeth knowledge.
Religion is not a mere system of thought upon which the mind can exercise its logic, while the soul is untouched and irresponsive. It is a life produced by the touch of the Divine Spirit, and apart from that contact, even the perception of spiritual verities is impossible. The reason may convince us of the existence of God, it may satisfy us of the reality of the relation between God and man, but it can never enable us to perceive the beauty of that life of communion with God which is the very heart of true religion. Reason is the activity of the human mind working on the materials presented to it, and though it may infer a Mind above the human, it can no more attain to communion with that Mind than the man can lift himself to the starry world his eyes behold. Religion is the activity of the spirit responding to the influence of the Divine Spirit; a life of feeling, not a process of thought; a Divine conception within the soul, not a human perception. In the deepest sense it is not the stretching out of lame hands to find a God, it is the grasping of the outstretched hand of God.1 [Note: Bernard Lucas, Conversations with Christ, 16.]
Through that pure Virgin-shrine,
That sacred vail drawn o'er thy glorious noon,
That men might look and live, as glo-worms shine,
And face the moon,
Wise Nicodemus saw such light
As made him know his God by night.
Most blest believer he!
Who in that land of darkness and blinde eyes
Thy long expected healing wings could see,
When Thou didst rise;
And, what can never more be done,
Did at mid-night speak with the Sun!2 [Note: Henry Vaughan.]
