Is it still Easter? Where are the frightened women and the astonished disciples? Why hasn’t Jesus walked through a locked door, or asked his disciples to touch his old/new body? Why this Gospel for today? Curiously, today’s Gospel reading takes us back to a pre-Easter time frame. In our Revised Common Lectionary, the fourth Sunday of Easter is always “Good Shepherd” Sunday. Every year at this point in the liturgical calendar, we hear from the tenth chapter of the Gospel according to John: verses 1-10 in Year A, today’s lection verses 11-18 for Year B, and verses 22-30 in Year C. In each case, Jesus talks about the Good Shepherd and the sheep who know him. In this celebratory time between Easter and Pentecost, how does this image help us to comprehend the risen Christ? Since most of us know very little about shepherds and sheep and would resist being compared to sheep, what does the church want us to hear in this Gospel?
Let’s remember the context of John’s gospel. Remember that this version of Jesus’ life was written in the ‘90s, when conflicts between the ethnically diverse Christian communities and the more orthodox Jewish religious leadership were increasing. John’s gospel is filled with Jesus’ long speeches emphasizing the contrast between those who follow him and those who don’t. In this gospel, Jesus intentionally uses language that points to his divine status. He makes key statements that begin with “I am,” echoing God’s name for Godself. Remember too that in this section Jesus is not speaking to his own followers, he is speaking to the Pharisees. And he is saying something important about himself.
Actually, when Jesus called himself the “Good Shepherd,” the Pharisees knew exactly what he was saying to them. They knew their Scripture. They knew that Jesus was using an image that went all the way back to Genesis. They knew that in chapter 49 of Genesis Jacob reminded his sons that Joseph would be protected “by the name of the Shepherd, the Rock of Israel, by the God of your fathers…. (Gen. 49:24). Of course, they knew the Psalter, especially the declaration in Psalm 23 that “The Lord is my shepherd.” Perhaps most important they knew Ezekiel’s use of the image of God as shepherd, especially Ezekiel’s assurance that, “’You are my sheep, the sheep of my pasture, and I am your God,’ says the Lord God” (Ezek. 34:31). Hearing Jesus use this image of the Good Shepherd, the Pharisees knew immediately that Jesus was asserting his divine status, and that he was reminding them that he was God’s own Son.
In an Easter tide context, Jesus’ self-description as God the Good Shepherd gives us another way of thinking about resurrection and its importance in our lives. If you think about the resurrection appearances we’ve heard about this Easter tide, one of the things that might strike you is Jesus’ freedom to appear wherever and to whom Jesus chooses. In his resurrection life, Jesus demonstrates that he will respond to the needs of his followers, whether those followers need to be released from their fears, whether they need to be convinced that he has been raised, or whether they need to understand that he has fulfilled God’s promises. However, Jesus’ appearances also clearly demonstrate that Jesus takes the initiative and comes to those in need – even before they ask him to come. Our texts for today also remind us that God gives God’s gifts, including the gift of Jesus’ death on the cross, of God’s own free will. In Psalm 23, clearly God does all the giving. The psalmist cannot make God provide nourishment and protection. God cannot be compelled, but God can be relied on to provide. In the same way, Jesus reminds the Pharisees that he will go to the Cross – and regain his life – freely and through his own power: what Jesus will accomplish through his death and resurrection will ultimately be God’s freely given gift. The gift will be on God’s terms and at God’s initiative, and there is nothing they – or we – can do to compel or retard God’s power.
One of the gifts that God’s Son promises us is the gift of community. In today’s Gospel, Jesus also reminds the Pharisees – and by extension us – that God the Good Shepherd does more than know the sheep by name, care for them, protect them, and even die for them. God the Good Shepherd also gathers the sheep. God the Good Shepherd draws the sheep together into a single flock. As the new Christian communities of John’s day struggled with ethnic, social, and economic diversity, the Gospel writer reminded them that, God’s promises were made not only to the Jews but ultimately to all people. All, regardless of who they are, are known by name, cared for, and invited into membership in the community formed by Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. Because the relationship within Jesus’ flock will reflect the love between Jesus and his Father, Jesus’ flock will be a community unified by mutual love.
Do we live in such a community of mutual love? Certainly, one can survey the world wide church and wonder when we might see Jesus’ promised blessed flock. Perhaps the church from its very beginning was fractured. We know from Paul’s letters that early communities experienced tensions between Jews and Gentiles. Even largely Gentile Christian communities struggled with social, economic, and ethnic differences. The Council of Nicaea, which hoped to put to rest much theological conflict by crafting a comprehensive statement of faith, did not settle all the theological arguments of its time. The Western Church, centered in Rome, split with the Eastern Church, centered in Constantinople, in 854. The Reformation shattered the unity of the Western Church, and Christian bodies have been splintering ever since.
Do we live in such a blessed community here in Gallipolis, here at St. Peter’s? In our 24/7 world, many of us have virtual communities. But do we have real community? Do we have real community in this parish, or are we hollow within? We might ask ourselves what kind of community God yearns to create here. God’s community, as we see it in the Gospels, is an open and inclusive community. Jesus did not exclude anyone on the basis of their ethnicity, wealth, health, or disability. Are we an inclusive community, a diverse community, a community where those who need God’s nurture, care, and protection might hope to find it? How are we cooperating with God in helping to create a flock whose members are clearly able to hear Jesus’ voice? John’s Gospel is clear: the work of gathering the flock belongs to God and Jesus; our work is to provide a place where all may feel welcome, where all may grow in love, where all may deepen their relationship with God and with each other.
How might we strengthen our bonds as a Christian community? Worshipping together regularly is one way. Participating in Christian formation is another way. We know that we cannot command God to nurture and care for us, any more than we can compel each other to come through the red doors. However, there is one thing we can always do. We can pray, we can make our needs known to God. We can let God know that we care about this parish, its health, and its future. We can assure God that we care about the people in this parish, and that we are prepared to share with them our own experiences of God’s love. We can ask God to fulfill God’s promise to create a strong healthy community is this place.
So here is my challenge to you for the coming week: pray! You might start by thanking God for all God’s gifts to us, as individuals and as a parish. Next, choose one person in the parish. Look around you: choose someone whom you see right now. Commit to praying for that person all week. You don’t need to say long complicated prayers. Simply lift that person up to God during your regular prayers or whenever you can. Then, think of someone who is not here but might be. Commit to praying in the same way for that person too all week. Finally, pray for this parish. Start with prayer number eleven on page 817 of the Prayer Book. Try saying it daily, if you can. In fact, let’s say it together now. [Turn to page 817, read the prayer together.]
It’s still Easter. As we are reminded yet again that we are a community led by a Good Shepherd, we continue to be assured of God’s free and gracious love for us as individuals and of God’s promise to draw all those who love God into a single, blessed community in Jesus’ name.
Showing posts with label Fourth Sunday of Easter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fourth Sunday of Easter. Show all posts
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Sunday, May 15, 2011
I am the Door
This Gospel passage disturbs me. I don’t like its binary oppositions between those who enter the sheepfold legitimately and those who don’t, between bandits and shepherds, between strangers and trusted leaders. I don’t like its implied anti-Semitism. Make no mistake that note is very much there. Remember that John’s Gospel was the last to be written, most likely in the early ‘90s. It was written for a community already in conflict with the Jewish religious leaders, and it consistently presents them in a very negative light. As part of its approach this Gospel describes miracles, then follows those miracles with portrayals of conflict and then a speech from Jesus. In the speech Jesus explains what he has done, and makes an “I am” statement. That is exactly what we have here, except that we have just a small part of the whole story. What we heard this morning follows directly on the healing of the man born blind. Do you remember that story? We heard it early last month, on the fourth Sunday in Lent. In it we saw clearly the unwillingness of the religious leaders to accept the healing of the blind man and Jesus’ condemnation of their spiritual blindness. Our Gospel passage follows immediately on that condemnation and is addressed to the same religious leaders. For some reason, our lectionary spreads Jesus’ speech over three years. This year, Year A, we hear the first ten verses. Next year, Year B, we hear Jesus identify himself as the Good Shepherd. Finally in Year C, we hear the last part of Jesus’ speech, after which we move on to the last miracle in this Gospel, the raising of Lazarus, which we heard last month on the fifth Sunday in Lent.
So this Sunday we’re at the beginning of Jesus’ commentary for the religious leaders on his healing of the blind man. The Gospel has him begin his commentary with an image that implicitly contrasts their leadership with his. Not surprisingly, they do not understand the image. So, as you heard, Jesus shifts to another image, that of the gate, or more accurately, door. He tells them, “Amen, amen, I tell you, I AM the door for the sheep.” Why is that I AM important? Remember that God’s name, as we learned in the Old Testament, is I AM. Every time Jesus makes an I AM statement in John’s Gospel, the Gospel writer is reminding us that Jesus is divine. So when readers of the Gospel and we hear that I AM statement, here I AM the door for the sheep, they and we are reminded again that Jesus has been sent by God, that Jesus is the Word become flesh, and that everything Jesus does flows from his relationship with God.
Now that’s maybe more narrative analysis of the Gospel than you bargained for on a Sunday morning. So shift gears with me, and let’s meditate a little on that image of the door. “I am the door for the sheep,” Jesus tells us. Doors are an interesting image, aren’t they? You can imagine this gate or door at the entrance to a pen, either a pen attached to a house or barn, as they were in ancient times, or a pen that’s free-standing. Gates or doors swing in both directions, don’t they? They let animals and people in to a place where they can find safety and security. They also let animals and people out to wider pastures where they can find plenty of good food and the freedom to roam.
Does that spark any associations? As I look around this place, I see a door – a red door – that also swings both ways. Is this place anything like that sheepfold? We come in through the red door perhaps seeking safety and security, at the very least reassurance that God loves us. Once here, we are gifted with Jesus himself, present to us in Word and Sacrament. Restored, healed, and nourished, we are sent back out through the red door, out into the life of the world. In and out, in and out, we go, just like those sheep in Jesus’ image. Actually, our life of discipleship is one of a series of alternations, of cycling in and out. We come and go in our weekly cycle of worship in this place, followed by work for God’s kingdom in the world. We also come and go in a yearly, seasonal cycle. Our church year begins with the solemn watching and waiting of Advent, moves to the joyous celebration of Christmas and Epiphany, plunges us into the austerity of Lent, then gives of fifty days of Easter joy, and finally allows us to grow and flourish through the season of Pentecost until we reach Advent again. In our personal lives, we cycle between work and home, between work and leisure. In our spiritual lives, we may cycle between periods of boredom and excitement or of certainty and doubt. We cycle between contemplation and action, letting our resting in Jesus empower us for going out into the world in his name, and returning to him in prayer before going out again. Ultimately, it is our connection with Jesus that gives all our cycles meaning and life. Our incorporation into the Body of Christ through baptism is what enables us to lead a holy life. “I am the door,” Jesus assures us. All of our spiritual practices, our devotion, our worship, our good works, are helpful in drawing us closer to Jesus, but it is our relationship with him that enables us to participate in the abundant life that he has promised us. No matter our understanding of theology, our preference for certain liturgies, our insistence on certain moral stances, or our devotion to certain religious practices, we have Jesus’ promise: when we come and go through him, we will have life abundantly.
Now notice one more thing about this Jesus-door. It is wide enough and it stays open long enough that an entire flock goes through it. The Gospel reminds us yet again that Christian life is a corporate experience. We are not in this as atoms. We go in and out as part of a flock. Now you might not like being compared to sheep. Sheep have a reputation for being stupid and blindly following one another. However, sheep are highly social animals, which is why they flock tightly together. But that’s the point of the sheep image: we too are highly social animals who flock together. The Christian life is a corporate life: we live and grow in it together, through our worship, our study, and our service in mission. We understand ourselves to be inter-connected, to be part of a group in which all members are beloved. And no surprise that John’s Gospel gives us here the image of a flock for a Christian community. The importance of community is a continuing motif in this Gospel, and here and elsewhere we are reminded that together we are bonded to Jesus in an indissoluble bond.
We are now at a time in the life of St. Peter’s when we have to think hard about community, about whether this parish will survive as a Christian community, and how it can become a stronger community. St. Peter’s has been invited to apply to be one of six parishes participating in the Common Ministry formation program of our diocese. The program will help us to explore our gifts, assets, and community needs so as to better discern the ministry or ministries to which God is calling us. It will strengthen us for engaging in those ministries. It will also help us to develop clearer goals as a congregation. It will enable us to see better where we fit in the diocesan mission. What is most important, the training offered by the Common Ministry program will help us identify lay leaders, form ministry teams, and develop clear expectations for them. Karl Ruttan, our canon for life formation, will be meeting with the Vestry this Tuesday evening to tell us more about the Common Ministry program. About a dozen or so parishes have been invited to apply, so there is no guarantee that we will be accepted for the program. However, if we do participate, we will have to make several commitments. We will have to commit ourselves to the survival and strengthening of St. Peter’s. We will have to put aside our factions, conflicts, pet peeves, and preferences, and put the good of the whole parish first. We will be asked to take our membership in the flock seriously and intentionally, and do everything that we can do, with our resources of money, time, and talents, to work for the well-being of St. Peter’s. Most important, we will be asked to commit ourselves more deeply to strengthening our relationship with Jesus, to going in and out with him, through worship, prayer, study, and mission.
I pray that this flock will continue to survive and grow in this place. I pray that the Holy Spirit will give us all that we need to come and go in Jesus. Most especially, I pray that we will always remain bonded with Jesus, as we come in to be nourished by him at the altar, and as we go out to partner with him in the bringing in of his gracious reign.
So this Sunday we’re at the beginning of Jesus’ commentary for the religious leaders on his healing of the blind man. The Gospel has him begin his commentary with an image that implicitly contrasts their leadership with his. Not surprisingly, they do not understand the image. So, as you heard, Jesus shifts to another image, that of the gate, or more accurately, door. He tells them, “Amen, amen, I tell you, I AM the door for the sheep.” Why is that I AM important? Remember that God’s name, as we learned in the Old Testament, is I AM. Every time Jesus makes an I AM statement in John’s Gospel, the Gospel writer is reminding us that Jesus is divine. So when readers of the Gospel and we hear that I AM statement, here I AM the door for the sheep, they and we are reminded again that Jesus has been sent by God, that Jesus is the Word become flesh, and that everything Jesus does flows from his relationship with God.
Now that’s maybe more narrative analysis of the Gospel than you bargained for on a Sunday morning. So shift gears with me, and let’s meditate a little on that image of the door. “I am the door for the sheep,” Jesus tells us. Doors are an interesting image, aren’t they? You can imagine this gate or door at the entrance to a pen, either a pen attached to a house or barn, as they were in ancient times, or a pen that’s free-standing. Gates or doors swing in both directions, don’t they? They let animals and people in to a place where they can find safety and security. They also let animals and people out to wider pastures where they can find plenty of good food and the freedom to roam.
Does that spark any associations? As I look around this place, I see a door – a red door – that also swings both ways. Is this place anything like that sheepfold? We come in through the red door perhaps seeking safety and security, at the very least reassurance that God loves us. Once here, we are gifted with Jesus himself, present to us in Word and Sacrament. Restored, healed, and nourished, we are sent back out through the red door, out into the life of the world. In and out, in and out, we go, just like those sheep in Jesus’ image. Actually, our life of discipleship is one of a series of alternations, of cycling in and out. We come and go in our weekly cycle of worship in this place, followed by work for God’s kingdom in the world. We also come and go in a yearly, seasonal cycle. Our church year begins with the solemn watching and waiting of Advent, moves to the joyous celebration of Christmas and Epiphany, plunges us into the austerity of Lent, then gives of fifty days of Easter joy, and finally allows us to grow and flourish through the season of Pentecost until we reach Advent again. In our personal lives, we cycle between work and home, between work and leisure. In our spiritual lives, we may cycle between periods of boredom and excitement or of certainty and doubt. We cycle between contemplation and action, letting our resting in Jesus empower us for going out into the world in his name, and returning to him in prayer before going out again. Ultimately, it is our connection with Jesus that gives all our cycles meaning and life. Our incorporation into the Body of Christ through baptism is what enables us to lead a holy life. “I am the door,” Jesus assures us. All of our spiritual practices, our devotion, our worship, our good works, are helpful in drawing us closer to Jesus, but it is our relationship with him that enables us to participate in the abundant life that he has promised us. No matter our understanding of theology, our preference for certain liturgies, our insistence on certain moral stances, or our devotion to certain religious practices, we have Jesus’ promise: when we come and go through him, we will have life abundantly.
Now notice one more thing about this Jesus-door. It is wide enough and it stays open long enough that an entire flock goes through it. The Gospel reminds us yet again that Christian life is a corporate experience. We are not in this as atoms. We go in and out as part of a flock. Now you might not like being compared to sheep. Sheep have a reputation for being stupid and blindly following one another. However, sheep are highly social animals, which is why they flock tightly together. But that’s the point of the sheep image: we too are highly social animals who flock together. The Christian life is a corporate life: we live and grow in it together, through our worship, our study, and our service in mission. We understand ourselves to be inter-connected, to be part of a group in which all members are beloved. And no surprise that John’s Gospel gives us here the image of a flock for a Christian community. The importance of community is a continuing motif in this Gospel, and here and elsewhere we are reminded that together we are bonded to Jesus in an indissoluble bond.
We are now at a time in the life of St. Peter’s when we have to think hard about community, about whether this parish will survive as a Christian community, and how it can become a stronger community. St. Peter’s has been invited to apply to be one of six parishes participating in the Common Ministry formation program of our diocese. The program will help us to explore our gifts, assets, and community needs so as to better discern the ministry or ministries to which God is calling us. It will strengthen us for engaging in those ministries. It will also help us to develop clearer goals as a congregation. It will enable us to see better where we fit in the diocesan mission. What is most important, the training offered by the Common Ministry program will help us identify lay leaders, form ministry teams, and develop clear expectations for them. Karl Ruttan, our canon for life formation, will be meeting with the Vestry this Tuesday evening to tell us more about the Common Ministry program. About a dozen or so parishes have been invited to apply, so there is no guarantee that we will be accepted for the program. However, if we do participate, we will have to make several commitments. We will have to commit ourselves to the survival and strengthening of St. Peter’s. We will have to put aside our factions, conflicts, pet peeves, and preferences, and put the good of the whole parish first. We will be asked to take our membership in the flock seriously and intentionally, and do everything that we can do, with our resources of money, time, and talents, to work for the well-being of St. Peter’s. Most important, we will be asked to commit ourselves more deeply to strengthening our relationship with Jesus, to going in and out with him, through worship, prayer, study, and mission.
I pray that this flock will continue to survive and grow in this place. I pray that the Holy Spirit will give us all that we need to come and go in Jesus. Most especially, I pray that we will always remain bonded with Jesus, as we come in to be nourished by him at the altar, and as we go out to partner with him in the bringing in of his gracious reign.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
My Sheep Hear My Voice
“My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” When was the last time you experienced real silence? Not recently, I’ll bet. It’s a noisy world out there. Many of us turn on our TVs and radios when we wake up and don’t turn them off until we go to bed. Programmed music accompanies every item that goes into our grocery carts. Advertisers shout at us as we pump our gasoline. Some restaurants are so noisy we can barely make conversation across the table. And then there is the self-inflicted noise from our cell phones and MP3 players. I confess that if it weren’t for my ipod, I probably wouldn’t make it here on Sunday mornings or be able to push myself out the door for my morning walk. It’s a noisy world out there! Is the voice of Jesus anywhere in all that din? Somehow, it’s hard to imagine him screaming our names at the top of his lungs trying to get our attention over all that noise. How will we hear him calling our names? Is it possible to find a quiet space in our lives so that we can hear Jesus’ voice? Not just on Sunday morning, but in the rest of our busy, noisy lives as well? Can we turn everything off and, like sheep, listen for the voice of the Good Shepherd, let him lead us beside the still waters, sit down with him, and truly listen to what he wants to tell us?
Today’s lessons invite us to see ourselves as sheep responding to the voice of a good shepherd. We know that over and over again Scripture uses this image of sheep and shepherd to describe our relationship with God. Psalm 23, in which we declare God to be our shepherd, is one of the most beloved in all the psalter. We sing in the Jubilate, one of the opening canticles in the service of Morning Prayer, “We are his people and the sheep of his pasture.” Kings are compared to shepherds, both good and bad. Jesus uses the parable of the lost sheep to suggest how dear each of is to God. Throughout the tenth chapter of John’s Gospel, which we hear every fourth Sunday of Easter, Jesus uses the image of the Good Shepherd to describe his relationship to the faithful.
Now I have a problem. I’m not sure I want to be described as a sheep. Isn’t there some other animal that better describes me spiritually? Sheep may be wooly and cute, but there’re also stupid, easily led, and influenced by a herd instinct, especially if one of them gets panicked. I, of course, am intelligent, capable of individual action, and above the influence of the “herd.”
What’s important here, what Psalm 23 is talking about, what Jesus is talking about in this Gospel passage is not sheep as such. Jesus is talking about relationship, specifically our relationship with God and other believers. Sheep are domesticated animals. They aren’t able to defend or protect themselves the way wild animals are. Sheep cannot make it on their own. They need the protection of the shepherd who has cared for them since birth. They also need the protection and support of the flock. Sheep who imagine that they are self-sufficient and strike out on their own easily get disoriented and lost. They must be brought back by the shepherd and rejoin the flock or, ultimately, they will die. So what is our relationship to God and to others? It is one of dependency, love, and trust, trust especially that, if we are joined to Jesus, and part of his flock, we will be cared for and safe. Through baptism we are already incorporated into Jesus’ resurrected life. We too can live life on a new plane, grounded in the Holy Spirit, and joined to Christ forever. As part of Jesus’ flock, as a community of those committed to him, we listen to his voice, obey his teachings, and do our best to follow him by doing the works that he did.
On the northeast coast of Italy in Ravenna, behind the famous church of San Vitale, lies an austere brick mausoleum built about the year 430 in honor of a Byzantine empress named Gallia Placida. If you go to Gallia Placida’s mausoleum you must stoop to go through the plain sunken doorway. However, once inside your eye is immediately drawn upward. The entire vault of the mausoleum is covered with astonishingly beautiful mosaics. Surrounding figures of the four evangelists, eight hundred mosaic stars in the night sky cover much of the vault. Cole Porter was said to have been so mesmerized by these stars, when he visited here in the 1920s, that he was moved to compose his famous song “Night and Day.” But what really catches the visitor’s eye here is the mosaic affixed over the entrance on the north side. Here we see Christ as the Good Shepherd. Although shepherds were despised working class men in the ancient world, this Good Shepherd is clearly a king. He has a large golden halo, wears a royal purple mantle over a golden tunic, and holds a tall cross. On either side of him are two groups of three sheep. Here’s the important part: the sheep peacefully gaze up at their Shepherd as he tenderly touches the nose of one of them.
So how do we hear the Good Shepherd’s voice? Our faith is not a set of intellectual propositions. For the sheep who belong to the Good Shepherd, faith is an experience, it is an experience of God’s deep and abiding care for us, all of us. The ground of our faith is an intimate relationship with the Good Shepherd and with the rest of the flock. How do we begin to hear the Good Shepherd’s voice in our lives? Can we let the resurrected one get close enough to us so that he can touch our faces as he did the sheep in the mosaic in Ravenna? If we are attentive in Sunday worship, we can sense his presence with us in the Eucharist, and we may fleetingly hear his voice. However, many of us don’t hear Jesus’ voice in worship. We may come late and miss the quiet time before worship begins. Often, there’s just too much noise, even here, with the prayers, the readings, the sermon, and the hymns. Worse yet, our eyes are focused on the printed page, and we read instead of listen.
My sisters and brothers, I’d like to suggest two ways in which we may begin hearing the Good Shepherd’s voice. The first is in silence. Find that time in your day, even if it’s only five minutes, when you turn off the TV, silence your cell phone, and put the ipod away. Let the Good Shepherd lead you to some quiet spot. Sit with him. Center down, as the Quakers say, find that quiet core of yourself. Acknowledge your dependence on him. Be grateful for his love and care for you. Pray. For some people, a verse of Scripture leads to prayer. For others, gazing at an icon is a stimulus for prayer. For others saying the rosary leads to deeper prayer. For others, simply concentrating on a single word quiets the mind and turns us Godward. Finally, just sit in silence and listen. Don’t think you have to work at your faith, as if it were another chore to be crossed off the to-do list. Just listen. His word for you will be there in the silence.
Often we also hear the Good Shepherd’s voice in the voices of others. As sheep, we are members of a flock, members of each other. Often the Good Shepherd cares for his flock through the actions of others, as we see Peter doing in our first lesson. Often, too, we can hear Jesus’ voice in the prayers, exhortations, testimonies, and confessions of others. We can hear Jesus’ voice when someone else proclaims the good news of God in Christ, when someone else tells us of their own faith journey and of how God has cared for them. We can hear Jesus’ voice when someone else brings us back into the community. We can hear Jesus’ voice when someone urges us to undertake mission, to follow Jesus’ example in caring for the rest of God’s children. We hear Jesus’ voice when someone else comforts us in grief and sorrow, dries our tears, and reassures us of God’s deep and abiding love. What is most important, others can hear Jesus’ voice in our voices. Speak the comforting word. Help other sheep to remember that they too are members of the Good Shepherd’s flock, and that the Good Shepherd has laid down his life for them. Find those large and small ways to practice compassion and sacrifice for the rest of the sheep. And pray for others.
In the words of a fifth-century prayer, let us pray,
O Lord Jesus Christ, Good Shepherd of the sheep,
who came to seek the lost, and to gather them into your fold,
have compassion on those who have wandered from you,
feed those who hunger,
cause the weary to lie in your pastures,
bind up those who are broken-hearted,
and strengthen those who are weak,
that we, relying on your care
and being comforted by your love,
may abide in your guidance to our lives’ end. Amen.
Today’s lessons invite us to see ourselves as sheep responding to the voice of a good shepherd. We know that over and over again Scripture uses this image of sheep and shepherd to describe our relationship with God. Psalm 23, in which we declare God to be our shepherd, is one of the most beloved in all the psalter. We sing in the Jubilate, one of the opening canticles in the service of Morning Prayer, “We are his people and the sheep of his pasture.” Kings are compared to shepherds, both good and bad. Jesus uses the parable of the lost sheep to suggest how dear each of is to God. Throughout the tenth chapter of John’s Gospel, which we hear every fourth Sunday of Easter, Jesus uses the image of the Good Shepherd to describe his relationship to the faithful.
Now I have a problem. I’m not sure I want to be described as a sheep. Isn’t there some other animal that better describes me spiritually? Sheep may be wooly and cute, but there’re also stupid, easily led, and influenced by a herd instinct, especially if one of them gets panicked. I, of course, am intelligent, capable of individual action, and above the influence of the “herd.”
What’s important here, what Psalm 23 is talking about, what Jesus is talking about in this Gospel passage is not sheep as such. Jesus is talking about relationship, specifically our relationship with God and other believers. Sheep are domesticated animals. They aren’t able to defend or protect themselves the way wild animals are. Sheep cannot make it on their own. They need the protection of the shepherd who has cared for them since birth. They also need the protection and support of the flock. Sheep who imagine that they are self-sufficient and strike out on their own easily get disoriented and lost. They must be brought back by the shepherd and rejoin the flock or, ultimately, they will die. So what is our relationship to God and to others? It is one of dependency, love, and trust, trust especially that, if we are joined to Jesus, and part of his flock, we will be cared for and safe. Through baptism we are already incorporated into Jesus’ resurrected life. We too can live life on a new plane, grounded in the Holy Spirit, and joined to Christ forever. As part of Jesus’ flock, as a community of those committed to him, we listen to his voice, obey his teachings, and do our best to follow him by doing the works that he did.
On the northeast coast of Italy in Ravenna, behind the famous church of San Vitale, lies an austere brick mausoleum built about the year 430 in honor of a Byzantine empress named Gallia Placida. If you go to Gallia Placida’s mausoleum you must stoop to go through the plain sunken doorway. However, once inside your eye is immediately drawn upward. The entire vault of the mausoleum is covered with astonishingly beautiful mosaics. Surrounding figures of the four evangelists, eight hundred mosaic stars in the night sky cover much of the vault. Cole Porter was said to have been so mesmerized by these stars, when he visited here in the 1920s, that he was moved to compose his famous song “Night and Day.” But what really catches the visitor’s eye here is the mosaic affixed over the entrance on the north side. Here we see Christ as the Good Shepherd. Although shepherds were despised working class men in the ancient world, this Good Shepherd is clearly a king. He has a large golden halo, wears a royal purple mantle over a golden tunic, and holds a tall cross. On either side of him are two groups of three sheep. Here’s the important part: the sheep peacefully gaze up at their Shepherd as he tenderly touches the nose of one of them.
So how do we hear the Good Shepherd’s voice? Our faith is not a set of intellectual propositions. For the sheep who belong to the Good Shepherd, faith is an experience, it is an experience of God’s deep and abiding care for us, all of us. The ground of our faith is an intimate relationship with the Good Shepherd and with the rest of the flock. How do we begin to hear the Good Shepherd’s voice in our lives? Can we let the resurrected one get close enough to us so that he can touch our faces as he did the sheep in the mosaic in Ravenna? If we are attentive in Sunday worship, we can sense his presence with us in the Eucharist, and we may fleetingly hear his voice. However, many of us don’t hear Jesus’ voice in worship. We may come late and miss the quiet time before worship begins. Often, there’s just too much noise, even here, with the prayers, the readings, the sermon, and the hymns. Worse yet, our eyes are focused on the printed page, and we read instead of listen.
My sisters and brothers, I’d like to suggest two ways in which we may begin hearing the Good Shepherd’s voice. The first is in silence. Find that time in your day, even if it’s only five minutes, when you turn off the TV, silence your cell phone, and put the ipod away. Let the Good Shepherd lead you to some quiet spot. Sit with him. Center down, as the Quakers say, find that quiet core of yourself. Acknowledge your dependence on him. Be grateful for his love and care for you. Pray. For some people, a verse of Scripture leads to prayer. For others, gazing at an icon is a stimulus for prayer. For others saying the rosary leads to deeper prayer. For others, simply concentrating on a single word quiets the mind and turns us Godward. Finally, just sit in silence and listen. Don’t think you have to work at your faith, as if it were another chore to be crossed off the to-do list. Just listen. His word for you will be there in the silence.
Often we also hear the Good Shepherd’s voice in the voices of others. As sheep, we are members of a flock, members of each other. Often the Good Shepherd cares for his flock through the actions of others, as we see Peter doing in our first lesson. Often, too, we can hear Jesus’ voice in the prayers, exhortations, testimonies, and confessions of others. We can hear Jesus’ voice when someone else proclaims the good news of God in Christ, when someone else tells us of their own faith journey and of how God has cared for them. We can hear Jesus’ voice when someone else brings us back into the community. We can hear Jesus’ voice when someone urges us to undertake mission, to follow Jesus’ example in caring for the rest of God’s children. We hear Jesus’ voice when someone else comforts us in grief and sorrow, dries our tears, and reassures us of God’s deep and abiding love. What is most important, others can hear Jesus’ voice in our voices. Speak the comforting word. Help other sheep to remember that they too are members of the Good Shepherd’s flock, and that the Good Shepherd has laid down his life for them. Find those large and small ways to practice compassion and sacrifice for the rest of the sheep. And pray for others.
In the words of a fifth-century prayer, let us pray,
O Lord Jesus Christ, Good Shepherd of the sheep,
who came to seek the lost, and to gather them into your fold,
have compassion on those who have wandered from you,
feed those who hunger,
cause the weary to lie in your pastures,
bind up those who are broken-hearted,
and strengthen those who are weak,
that we, relying on your care
and being comforted by your love,
may abide in your guidance to our lives’ end. Amen.
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