Homily on John 3:13–17
From the Holy Metropolis of New Zealand
“No one has ascended into heaven but He who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him.”
Christ tells Nicodemus that no one has ascended into heaven except the One who has first descended: the Son of Man. This descent is not just about Christ coming from a higher place down to a lower place. It is about the humility of God, who enters fully into our weakness and death so that we might share in His life.
And His ascent begins not with His Resurrection, but with His lifting up on the Cross. The Cross is His throne, the revelation of His glory. To the eyes of the world it is shame and defeat, but to the eyes of faith it is the doorway into eternal life.
Christ recalls Moses lifting up the bronze serpent. Israel, dying of serpent bites, was healed simply by looking in faith at the image raised before them. Death itself was lifted up, and yet it became the means of healing.
So too Christ becomes sin for us, though He is sinless. He takes on death itself, and in being lifted up He transforms it into life. To gaze upon the Crucified One is not to see the end of hope, but the beginning of healing and resurrection.
And here we arrive at the heart of the Gospel: “Whoever believes in Him will have eternal life.”
But what does it mean to “believe”? In our world it often means “to agree in your head,” as though believing in Christ were like believing in gravity or in a fact from history. But in Scripture the word pisteuo means something much deeper. It means trust, fidelity, handing your whole life over.
St. John Chrysostom says that to believe is to cling to Christ like a child holding tightly to a parent’s hand. St. Cyril of Alexandria says it is to embrace Him with the whole movement of our being. It is not about passing a test of doctrine, but about communion—a living relationship with Him.
And here is the important point: this communion is not something vague. It is practiced. It is exercised. Faith grows through the daily askesis—the spiritual training—that the Church gives us.
- We pray—not only when we feel like it, but faithfully, even with a single line of the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.” Prayer is faith in action, opening our heart to Christ.
- We forgive—when someone hurts us, faith means choosing the Cross, letting go of vengeance, and allowing Christ’s forgiveness to live in us.
- We fast and keep watch—not to prove our strength, but to loosen the grip of our passions and make space for Christ.
- We confess our sins—coming humbly to Christ in the sacrament, not hiding, but entrusting our brokenness to Him.
- We give alms and love concretely—sharing with those in need, because faith unites us not only to Christ but to our neighbour in whom Christ dwells.
St. Paisios of Mount Athos said that faith grows when we take small steps of trust. Like entering into the sea when you cannot see the bottom, belief is not standing on the shore analysing the waves—it is entering, trembling but trusting, and discovering that Christ Himself carries you.
This is how faith becomes life, how “belief” becomes communion with the Crucified and Risen Lord.
The promise of Christ is eternal life. But eternal life is not simply endless time after death. Apart from God, endless existence would be torment. Eternal life is participation in God’s own life.
And it begins now. Christ does not say, “whoever believes will have eternal life later,” but “whoever believes has eternal life.” Already, when we pray, forgive, repent, and love, we taste that life which never ends. Already, when we cling to the Crucified One, death is undone in us.
Holy Fathers often say: heaven is not later. Heaven is communion with God, and that communion begins here and now. The Cross is its doorway, because only by sharing in His death do we enter His life.
“For God so loved the world…” Not an ideal world, not a perfect world, but this world—the broken, fallen, resistant world. And He loves it not from afar but by entering it, by being lifted up on the Cross, so that no one need remain in death.
He does not come to condemn. Condemnation is already at work whenever we close our hearts to Him. He comes to save, to reveal life, to offer communion.
At the centre of the Gospel is the Cross: Christ lifted up so that all who look to Him in trust may be healed. To believe in Him is not to hold an opinion but to step into a relationship, to cling to Him in prayer, forgiveness, fasting, repentance, and love.
This is the way of the Cross—the way into eternal life. Not a reward waiting far away, but a reality that begins now, whenever we entrust ourselves to Him.
The Son of Man descended into our death so that we might ascend into His life. Whoever believes—whoever entrusts their whole being to Him—already tastes that life which has no end.
“For God so loved the world…” This is not only the reason for His Cross; it is the very air we breathe in the Church, the light in which we live, the life into which we are drawn—here and now, and unto the ages of ages.
