Regarding the temptation to not ask the question that one wants or needs answered, Confucius, the famed Chinese philosopher cautioned, “The man who asks a question is a fool for a minute, the man who does not ask is a fool for life."
This bit of wisdom holds in tension the consequences of two decisions—there’s the moment of embarrassment one experiences when admitting that they don’t know or understand something–to be “a fool for a minute”--and there’s the decision never to ask a question and to remain uninformed—to be “a fool for life.”
In hindsight, I could’ve used a little pep talk from Confucius when I was in middle school because that’s a time in my life when I allowed the fear of appearing foolish to keep me from asking questions that I needed answered.
I did well in school when I was a kid, but when I got to 8th grade, I needed to start studying and doing my homework, which revealed a problem.
I was in 8th grade and I didn’t want to study and do my homework.
By the time I realized the nature of my problem, however, I was in over my head, particularly in French class.
As my classmates were progressing with their assignments throughout the year, adding skills on top of skills, building upon what they had previously learned, I was stuck on square one, and I was too embarrassed to do anything about it.
I didn’t want to admit I had no idea what the teacher was talking about.
I didn’t want my friends to know that the things they’d figured out continued to elude me.
I didn’t want to ask for help.
And you know what happened?
I failed the class. I got an “F” and proved myself to be a fool, if not for life, then at least for middle school.
Even though I got much better at asking questions in school, I can’t say that 8th grade was the last time I allowed fear or frustration to keep me uninformed.
Even as an adult–for heaven’s sake, as recently as this week–there have been times when I wish I would’ve asked more questions and gotten more answers before moving forward with a decision.
And I know I’m not alone.
There’s an entire industry of coaches, teachers, and leadership gurus trying to help their readers and clients on this point, but it’s a struggle.
As communications consultant John Vaught notes, “For some reason it is easy to think that asking questions is far less valuable than doing actions — even when we don’t know exactly why we are doing it!”
And less we think there’s something uniquely modern about our willingness to charge ahead at full speed with incomplete information, a quote from Daniel Webster, an esteemed public speaker in the 19th century, reminds us there’s nothing new about this.
“How little do they see what really is,” Webster remarked, “who frame their hasty judgement upon that which seems.”
If it’s true that “the man who asks a question is a fool for a minute, the man who does not ask is a fool for life," then we really are very foolish.
From the wisdom of Confucius, to middle school studies, and online career coaches, it’s clear that there’s virtue in asking questions, seeking answers, and taking the time to make informed decisions, but we, like those who came before us, often struggle to overcome the temptation to have no greater priorities than protecting ourselves from embarrassment and trying to save time.
And then there are the circumstances in which external and coercive forces actively suppress questions and honest inquiry.
Political movements, religious institutions, domineering parents and partners—we can point to countless examples of systems like these–from rigid households to aspiring empires–that demanded conformity, reduced education to rote memorization, and made sport out of casting out the curious and non-conformists.
Sometimes the people are made to be foolish because of the fools in charge of them.
It seems probable that a wide array of internal and external forces like these were working to keep Nicodemus at home on the night he went out to find Jesus.
A leader within Jerusalem’s Jewish community at the same time Jesus was gathering followers and gaining attention, Nicodemus would’ve faced pressure to keep his distance from the man and his ideas, both of which challenged the status quo from which Nicodemus and his peers benefitted. But Nicodemus sought out Jesus, risking embarrassment and for worse to go to him in secret.
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with that person.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” (John 3:1-3)What followed was a verbal back-and-forth between the two about spiritual rebirth, the kingdom of God, and the Son of Man–topics that were not foreign to Nicodemus, even though the way Jesus tied them all together seemed to give him pause.
Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” Jesus answered him, “Are you the teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things? (John 3:9-10)The conversation continued, but Nicodemus never had that “Aha! moment” or personal epiphany. In fact, the way Saint John tells the story makes us think that it ended just like it started, with Nicodemus quietly, secretly, moving through the dark.
But something significant did happen that night.
Set against the backdrop of secrecy and the pressure Nicoldemus felt to conform and go along, Jesus said something to him that would become an iconic summary of his message.
Many of us know it by heart—John 3:16—“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”
Verse 17 is pretty good, too—“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
Even though John doesn’t tell us how their first meeting ended, he does give us evidence that it made a deep impression on Nicodemus.
That evidence comes later in the Gospel, much later, almost at the very end, after Jesus’ betrayal, arrest, and death on a cross.
John writes,
After these things, Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one…asked Pilate to let him take away the body of Jesus. Pilate gave him permission, so he came and removed his body. Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, 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, according to the burial custom of the Jews. (John 19:38-40)First coming to Jesus in the dark of night, ultimately, Nicodemus was there as the sun was setting on a day unlike any other.
He was there giving, risking, grieving, remembering how Jesus saw and heard him, and recognizing, even in that sorrowful moment, a love that was more powerful than the ignorance of fools.
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through him. (John 3:16-17)What questions do you need to ask Jesus, like Nicodemus did, under cover of darkness?
Questions about tragedies you’ve experienced or griefs you’ve endured?
Questions to help you make sense of the past or prepare for the future?
Questions that are, on some level, so basic that you’re embarrassed to ask them, questions like, “Are you for real?”, “What’s heaven like?”, “Am I a good person?”
Our guiding light this Lenten season is the conviction that Jesus sees and hears us.
Today, this light illuminates the story of Nicodemus for us. In the coming weeks it will lead us, again, to familiar stories about “the woman at the well,” “the man born blind,” and the scene at Lazarus’ tomb.
And as this light shines, as we open ourselves to this Jesus who sees and hears us, we learn that we are free to step off the path of pretense, embarrassment, and fear, and can start walking with One who desires that we be our real and honest selves—even when we honestly have questions that run against the grain of a go-along-to-get-along ethos—for it is when we come to him just as we are, and not how we think we’re supposed to be, that we truly begin to understand the depth of his love and the power of his grace.
Jesus wants to see and hear you, the real you.
Jesus enables us to see and hear one another, to be a real community following in his steps.
It seems probable that a wide array of forces worked to keep Nicodemus at home, in his lane, and, ultimately, in the dark, like a fool with his unasked questions, but he chose to go to Jesus where he was seen, heard, loved, and changed.
Jesus offers the same to each one of us for it is when we come to him just as we are, and not how we think we’re supposed to be, that we truly begin to understand the depth of his love and the power of his grace.
Thanks be to God for this Good News. Amen.
