1. The Evangelist does not tell us at what time of the night or in what frame of mind Nicodemus left the presence of Jesus. But he gives us two later glimpses of the man, both of which are in the highest degree suggestive. The time came when the chief priests and Pharisees tried to arrest Jesus. They failed, however, because their own servants refused to obey orders, choosing to incur the displeasure of their masters sooner than lay hands on Him who, as they declared, spake as never man spake. Angry as the masters were at such insubordination, they did their best to conceal their feelings. After all, what did they care for the opinion of the vulgar crowd-the mob who did not know the law? What really mattered was the opinion of the learned and influential class. Had any of the rulers or of the Pharisees believed in the Nazarene? Nicodemus was present and heard the question, which sounded like a challenge. And he took a bold step. His conscience said that silence would be treason and cowardice. He knew that he would despise himself for ever if he failed to speak out. And rising to his feet, he calmly, plainly, and rightly told all the victims of passion and prejudice that they were doing what their own law forbade them to do-judging a man to whom they had never given a hearing.
Our chief interest in the dramatic scene lies in the last speaker. Nicodemus has given Jesus a hearing-has spent a never-to-be-forgotten night in intimate fellowship with Him-and this is the result. He is making rapid progress. If he does not yet say, “I, a ruler and a Pharisee, believe in Him,” he at least fervently wishes that all his fellow-rulers could see what he has seen and hear what he has heard. He would not fear the issue. Lack of faith is often but another name for imperfect knowledge. There is much less invincible ignorance in the world than one might think. Let Christ have a chance. Let Christianity be heard, and it will speak to the heart of mankind with selfevidencing power. The Word of life needs only to be seen, looked upon, handled. The Truth is great and will prevail.
In the supreme court which resolves to lay hands on Jesus, there is one dissenting voice-the voice of Nicodemus. It is the last voice we should have expected. We are disposed to say, “Is this the man who a little while ago was eager to sink himself in the spirit of the age!” He now stands forth opposed to the age-stands out as a solitary individual breasting the waves of a crowd, and cries with fearless love of justice, “Does our law judge any man before it hears him!” We marvel at the spectacle. It is not that we see a growing stature-we expect time to bring that. It is that we witness a transformation. Nicodemus has changed his weakness into a strength. He has become strong in the very point in which he was defective. On the night in which he stood before Jesus he was unwilling to be alone; on the day in which he stands before the Sanhedrin he is unwilling to be in company. He asserts the right of his own individual soul. He is a fine example of the difference between what is called nature and what is called grace. Nature can improve a man: grace transforms him.1 [Note: G. Matheson, The Representative Men of the New Testament, 127.]
2. Nicodemus reappears a second time in the gospel story, at the end of the greatest of all dramas. Things have reached a head with the Teacher come from God; His life-blood has been shed on the cross, and the dishonoured body hangs disowned upon the tree. Will no man be bold enough to own it? Will not the force of love break through even the terrible array of the unanimous verdict of the world? It will. And of the two men who at that moment were strong enough to brave opinion, Nicodemus, the modest, shrinking, timid ruler, was one. “And Joseph of Arimathæa … besought Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus: and Pilate gave him leave. And there came also Nicodemus, which at the first came to Jesus by night, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about an hundred pound weight. Then took they the body of Jesus, and wound it in linen clothes with the spices, as the manner of the Jews is to bury.”
As the two good men [Nicodemus and Joseph] stood by the cross, what would pass through the mind of Nicodemus? Would it not be this: “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up.” How reverently and lovingly they two handle that body! What a funeral! only two mourners, but many spectators, for all the angels in heaven were looking on. It was the burial of the King of kings. Dr. Mason of New York was once at the funeral of a young man, and he thought the pall-bearers were going a little too fast. He went forward, and, touching them softly, he said, “Walk softly; you are carrying a temple of the Holy Ghost.” If that could be said of a follower of Christ, what of the blessed Master Himself? Nicodemus is hazarding his life as well as his reputation. He is lavishing his wealth on Christ. Christ's dying love has filled his heart. He counts it an honour to roll the stone to the sepulchredoor, as the angel did to roll it back. Learn like Nicodemus to confess a Christ that died. Men preach the imitation of Christ, but it is the death of Christ that brings life to the soul.1 [Note: Reminiscences of Andrew A. Bonar, 326.]
