Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” John 10:11
As I prepared for today, I asked my sister Elizabeth to send me the propers, or lessons for today. On the back flap of the envelope, she wrote, “This is easy.” I laughed. So let’s see if Elizabeth was right.
Today is called “Good Shepherd Sunday.” On this, the fourth Sunday of Easter, we hear excerpts from the 10th chapter of the Gospel according to John, in which images of the shepherd, the sheep, the sheepfold and its door, the hired hand, and of course the predator, the wolf, all make for a provocative and profound picture of what it means for us Easter people to say that we follow the risen Christ.
In today’s reading, Jesus identifies himself as the shepherd, but not just any old shepherd, mind you. Jesus identifies himself as the good shepherd. And to illustrate what he intends for us to imagine, he contrasts himself, the good shepherd, with the hired hand. The hired hand is just that – not a shepherd, really, and not the owner of the sheep. His level of commitment to his job falls far short of the real shepherd, the good shepherd. And the difference between the two, Jesus says, becomes crystal clear when danger turns into potential disaster, when the wolf approaches the flock and attempts to steal and kill the sheep. The hired hand, fearing for his own life, takes off. “I am the good shepherd,” says Jesus. I’m never going to run away from my flock. I’m willing to lay my life down for those sheep.
Now for those of us who are not shepherds, for those of us whose work doesn’t require us to lay our lives on the line in the course of our jobs, it’s a bit hard, isn’t it, to imagine the kind of dedication Jesus is talking about here. So one question I have for us today is this: do we really know what Jesus means when he says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. … I lay down my life for the sheep.”
I’ve only known one real shepherd in my life, a man who lived in New Hampshire and kept a flock of sheep for twenty or more years. What always struck me about my friend the shepherd was that wherever it was we were, whatever the occasion, he always went home at night to take care of those sheep. He would drive hundreds of miles in order to be there, so that those sheep wouldn’t be alone overnight.
So when Jesus identifies himself as the good shepherd, the first thing he is saying to us is that we are his, and that he cares for us so much that he is willing to risk his life on our behalf, no matter what. In the face of the perils and dangers we know to be out there, Jesus is here to protect and defend us.
Another thing Jesus tells us is this: “I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.” The relationship Jesus has with each of us is one-on-one, a relationship in which he has an intimate knowledge and understanding of who you are and what you need as one very individual member of this flock. The risen Christ here in our midst knows each of us as if we were members of his family, like a child knows a parent, or a parent knows a child, “just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.”
Have you ever heard yourself say something like this when describing your prayer life: “I m not sure whether it’s okay to pray for this or that. After all, it’s pretty insignificant, maybe too trivial to bring to God’s attention.” What Jesus is saying in this passage is that his relationship with you is one in which he knows you as if you were living in the same household, as if he were your brother, your best friend (all of which, of course, is true), so you can bring anything into your prayers, however trivial it may seem at the moment.
A final important point Jesus makes in this passage is this: “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.” These verses speak to the question of what about non-believers, the un-churched, people of other denomination, other faith traditions. What does God have in mind for people such as these? And lest we minimize or trivialize this question, think about your friends or members of your family who may fit into one of these categories. Or, on a different level, think about our country, a place in which religious pluralism abounds, or our world, in which Christianity is a distinct minority religion.
What does God have in mind for all those people out there who are not like us? Well, this passage from the Gospel of John strongly suggests that God’s abiding love is inclusive of all of humanity, not just those we can identify as being a member of this flock, and probably more inclusive than any of us can even imagine. After all, God made us all, God loves us all. And Jesus, the good shepherd, is good enough for any sheep that might be out there wandering around.
Why is Jesus the good shepherd? Because we are his: Jesus is no contract worker. He’s not a temp in here for the next few weeks. Why is Jesus the good shepherd? Because he knows the risks out there, and he’s willing to do everything it takes to protect us, even risking his life for us. Why is Jesus the good shepherd? Because he cares about all the sheep, not just the ones here in our little corner of the pasture. He loves all the sheep, wherever it is they are, whether they know him to be the good shepherd or not.
The Greek word here that we translate as “good” has a set of meanings that far exceed our most common definition of good, as in good versus bad, or good versus evil. In fact, for those of you who are dictionary aficionados, you should know that “good” in the sense of “the opposite of bad” is listed as a distant third possibility in the Greek. So if you’ll bear with me for a moment, let’s explore the other definitions, to see if they shed some light on what it means to know Jesus as the good shepherd.
The dominant meaning of this Greek word (kalos) is powerful, strong, excellent, healthy, or serviceable. To say that Jesus is the good shepherd is to say that he is the kind of shepherd who is strong and durable, just right for this job, of the highest quality, a shepherd without any better. I have some friends who rather pretentiously claim sometimes that the possessions they own or the people with whom they associate are the very best, without compare. Without bragging the way my friends do, we can say with certainty that Jesus is the best, the most excellent shepherd there is.
A second set of meanings for the word we translate as “good” includes beautiful, lovely, and attractive. William Temple, Archbishop of Canterbury in the early 20th century, translated the opening verse of today’s gospel lesson like this: “I am the shepherd, the beautiful one. The shepherd, the beautiful one, lays down his life for the sheep.” What does it mean for us to know Jesus as the beautiful shepherd? What is it about the shepherd that we find so lovely? Is his attractiveness something physical, or is it something about his person, the essence of who he is? That’s a provocative and useful set of questions, I think, for us to consider this Easter season.
Back to my sister Elizabeth. Was this easy? I’m not sure. But for me, these lessons were certainly illuminating, They were provocative, they were helpful.
Let us pray:
Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” O God, whose Son Jesus is the good shepherd of your people: Grant that when we hear his voice we may know him who calls us each by name, and follow where he leads; who, with you and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Easter Day - Skip Windsor
Christ Is Alive
One of my first contemplative moments at Christ Church was praying with a parishioner in our Sanctuary Garden. I remember standing next to him in prayer looking out at the beautifully landscaped grounds thinking of it as a vision of new life. I imagined life, deep in the soil, among the bricks and ivy, uncoiling and spiraling upwards, upward towards God. In the garden, among the great souls buried there, there pervades the strong belief that life is changed not ended at death.
I do not think it was by accident that the first resurrection appearance was in a garden. The Bible begins in a garden; and it is in the garden of the empty tomb all salvation history bends forward from Adam and Eve’s prideful disobedience to the humble obedience of Jesus and comes to fruition and conclusion. All four gospels agree there was an empty tomb. The biblical texts only vary on who was present in the garden on that first Easter morning.
John writes in his Gospel that there were just three eyewitnesses: Peter, John, and Mary. The two men were Jesus’ closest disciples. Mary was a close disciple of Jesus, too. There is nothing in the Gospels to say she was a woman of infamy. Jesus saved her from a nervous disorder and he gave her a new life. Naturally, she would be grief stricken. But, it was not Mary but Peter and John who were the first to look into the tomb and find it empty. Peter saw and left for home. But, John saw and believed.
Faith first, miracles second. This is the key to John’s entire gospel – it is about faith in Jesus. According to John, Jesus spoke often about the Son of Man being raised from the dead. Seeing the empty tomb in the garden, John knew in faith that Jesus had risen from the dead. Writing his Gospel many years later, John gives seven accounts of Jesus giving signs or miracles that pointed to the truth that he was the Son of God.
I am reminded of the story of faith called “The Tightrope Walker” told by Bishop Michael Curry:
There was a tightrope walker who did amazing things. All over Paris he would do tightrope acts at dazzling heights. Then he had succeeding acts when he would do it blindfolded and then he would walk the tightrope blindfolded again pushing a wheelbarrow. An American promoter read about this man’s feats and invited him to do his act over the Niagara Falls.
After much negotiating and much fanfare, scores of people came to Niagara Falls to see the tightrope walker do his act. The first time he crossed easily.
The second time he crossed the fall blindfolded without a hitch to wild and ecstatic applause. The crowd goes wild and the tightrope walker comes to the promoter and asks him if he believes he can walk the tightrope blindfolded and push a wheelbarrow.
The promoter gushes that of course he can do it. The walker asks the promoter again does he really believe he can do it? Yes, the promoter replies confidently that he can do it. “Good,” says the tightrope walker, “then get in the wheelbarrow!”
Faith first, miracles second; and yet, how often do we say we have faith in God and believe in Jesus Christ but refuse to get into the wheelbarrow? Faith is not absolute certainty, but a readiness to explore the mystery. It is not a method of finding all the answers, but living with the questions. Like hope, faith is an attitude of the mind, and orientation of the spirit.
Daily you and I may grapple with uncertainty and anxiety. We can become skeptical when bad things happen to good people. Our hearts can break when we see injustice in the world. Stresses in life can make us mad and they can make us weep. Faith is tested as such times; and it is in such moments, such unexpected moments, when we seem so isolated, so disconsolate, and so vulnerable, that Jesus, unbidden and unrecognizable, comes to us. Those shuttered personal moments recall the broken heart of Mary at the Empty tomb.
Mary could not leave the garden with Peter and John. She was weighed down with grief. Sadness was her only companion. At first she did not recognize Jesus. She only noticed a gardener standing nearby. It takes his voice and it takes a name, her name, “Mary.” No greater recognition scene in all of history is there than the one between Jesus and Mary in the Garden. And all she wants to do is hold him.
All through Jesus’ ministry people wanted to hold him, touch him or feel him. The woman with the hemorrhage needed only to touch his garment. The unnamed woman with the jar of perfume wanted to anoint his feet. Peter and John wanted to be the ones to sit closest to Jesus. The blind man at the well asks Jesus to heal him with his saliva and a bit of earth.
I remember years ago being in Washington, D.C., and there was a parade for Bobby Kennedy. The crowd was about six people deep and so I couldn’t see Kennedy but I could hear people cheering. Several people ahead of me shouted out, “I see him!” And a little later, further up in the crowd, I heard a young woman shout to no one in particular, “I touched his hand!”
When Jesus tells Mary not to hold him and that he is ascending, he says to Mary and anyone who would be his disciples that we cannot hold on to him in the old ways. We cannot keep things as they once were.
Mary’s faith in him and acceptance of this fact moves her to a new understanding of her relationship with Jesus. The teacher she once knew, the teacher she loved is still the same and more. The world could not hold him. Death could not hold him. Through his resurrection, Jesus brings Mary and all of creation into a new relationship with God.
Mary’s friend, her dearest friend, Jesus, would never leave her again and now be as near to her as breathing. A personal relationship with Jesus becomes more personal. It is no wonder that many people love the old chestnut hymn, In the Garden, and its refrain:
Our Sanctuary Garden points to our Easter faith. It is as if we planted a sign that said, “Christ is alive!” And, if we have faith, we will see other signs all around us that proclaim the resurrection. “Resurrection is not written in just books alone but in every bud of springtime,” writes Martin Luther. April is resurrection month. And the whole direction of Christian faith is upwards.
“We believe verily to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living,” it reads in the 1928 prayer book. Today and during the season of Easter, we are invited “upwards” to do just that… have faith and see God’s goodness in the risen Christ.
Let us pray:
Lift us, O God, to those higher regions where our spirits can grow to their full stature. Give us new life in Christ and help us to share it with others so that they too may know and believe the joy that comes through your great love. This we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
One of my first contemplative moments at Christ Church was praying with a parishioner in our Sanctuary Garden. I remember standing next to him in prayer looking out at the beautifully landscaped grounds thinking of it as a vision of new life. I imagined life, deep in the soil, among the bricks and ivy, uncoiling and spiraling upwards, upward towards God. In the garden, among the great souls buried there, there pervades the strong belief that life is changed not ended at death.
I do not think it was by accident that the first resurrection appearance was in a garden. The Bible begins in a garden; and it is in the garden of the empty tomb all salvation history bends forward from Adam and Eve’s prideful disobedience to the humble obedience of Jesus and comes to fruition and conclusion. All four gospels agree there was an empty tomb. The biblical texts only vary on who was present in the garden on that first Easter morning.
John writes in his Gospel that there were just three eyewitnesses: Peter, John, and Mary. The two men were Jesus’ closest disciples. Mary was a close disciple of Jesus, too. There is nothing in the Gospels to say she was a woman of infamy. Jesus saved her from a nervous disorder and he gave her a new life. Naturally, she would be grief stricken. But, it was not Mary but Peter and John who were the first to look into the tomb and find it empty. Peter saw and left for home. But, John saw and believed.
Faith first, miracles second. This is the key to John’s entire gospel – it is about faith in Jesus. According to John, Jesus spoke often about the Son of Man being raised from the dead. Seeing the empty tomb in the garden, John knew in faith that Jesus had risen from the dead. Writing his Gospel many years later, John gives seven accounts of Jesus giving signs or miracles that pointed to the truth that he was the Son of God.
I am reminded of the story of faith called “The Tightrope Walker” told by Bishop Michael Curry:
There was a tightrope walker who did amazing things. All over Paris he would do tightrope acts at dazzling heights. Then he had succeeding acts when he would do it blindfolded and then he would walk the tightrope blindfolded again pushing a wheelbarrow. An American promoter read about this man’s feats and invited him to do his act over the Niagara Falls.
After much negotiating and much fanfare, scores of people came to Niagara Falls to see the tightrope walker do his act. The first time he crossed easily.
The second time he crossed the fall blindfolded without a hitch to wild and ecstatic applause. The crowd goes wild and the tightrope walker comes to the promoter and asks him if he believes he can walk the tightrope blindfolded and push a wheelbarrow.
The promoter gushes that of course he can do it. The walker asks the promoter again does he really believe he can do it? Yes, the promoter replies confidently that he can do it. “Good,” says the tightrope walker, “then get in the wheelbarrow!”
Faith first, miracles second; and yet, how often do we say we have faith in God and believe in Jesus Christ but refuse to get into the wheelbarrow? Faith is not absolute certainty, but a readiness to explore the mystery. It is not a method of finding all the answers, but living with the questions. Like hope, faith is an attitude of the mind, and orientation of the spirit.
Daily you and I may grapple with uncertainty and anxiety. We can become skeptical when bad things happen to good people. Our hearts can break when we see injustice in the world. Stresses in life can make us mad and they can make us weep. Faith is tested as such times; and it is in such moments, such unexpected moments, when we seem so isolated, so disconsolate, and so vulnerable, that Jesus, unbidden and unrecognizable, comes to us. Those shuttered personal moments recall the broken heart of Mary at the Empty tomb.
Mary could not leave the garden with Peter and John. She was weighed down with grief. Sadness was her only companion. At first she did not recognize Jesus. She only noticed a gardener standing nearby. It takes his voice and it takes a name, her name, “Mary.” No greater recognition scene in all of history is there than the one between Jesus and Mary in the Garden. And all she wants to do is hold him.
All through Jesus’ ministry people wanted to hold him, touch him or feel him. The woman with the hemorrhage needed only to touch his garment. The unnamed woman with the jar of perfume wanted to anoint his feet. Peter and John wanted to be the ones to sit closest to Jesus. The blind man at the well asks Jesus to heal him with his saliva and a bit of earth.
I remember years ago being in Washington, D.C., and there was a parade for Bobby Kennedy. The crowd was about six people deep and so I couldn’t see Kennedy but I could hear people cheering. Several people ahead of me shouted out, “I see him!” And a little later, further up in the crowd, I heard a young woman shout to no one in particular, “I touched his hand!”
When Jesus tells Mary not to hold him and that he is ascending, he says to Mary and anyone who would be his disciples that we cannot hold on to him in the old ways. We cannot keep things as they once were.
Mary’s faith in him and acceptance of this fact moves her to a new understanding of her relationship with Jesus. The teacher she once knew, the teacher she loved is still the same and more. The world could not hold him. Death could not hold him. Through his resurrection, Jesus brings Mary and all of creation into a new relationship with God.
Mary’s friend, her dearest friend, Jesus, would never leave her again and now be as near to her as breathing. A personal relationship with Jesus becomes more personal. It is no wonder that many people love the old chestnut hymn, In the Garden, and its refrain:
And he walks with me and talks to meEaster awakes us; and an awakened person in Christ, alert to the stirrings of the soil, the beauty of the earth, and the enduring mystery of our lives and of Life comes a deep delight, a growing gladness, a ripe readiness and an active affirmation. The joy of life brings the promise and possibility of a renewed hope that all creation is infused with grace and glory.
And tells me I am his own,
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.
Our Sanctuary Garden points to our Easter faith. It is as if we planted a sign that said, “Christ is alive!” And, if we have faith, we will see other signs all around us that proclaim the resurrection. “Resurrection is not written in just books alone but in every bud of springtime,” writes Martin Luther. April is resurrection month. And the whole direction of Christian faith is upwards.
“We believe verily to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living,” it reads in the 1928 prayer book. Today and during the season of Easter, we are invited “upwards” to do just that… have faith and see God’s goodness in the risen Christ.
Let us pray:
Lift us, O God, to those higher regions where our spirits can grow to their full stature. Give us new life in Christ and help us to share it with others so that they too may know and believe the joy that comes through your great love. This we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
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