There’s
a curious tradition in the Church during the fifty-day celebration of Our Lord’s
resurrection. The Lectionary for the first three Sundays in Easter always focuses
on the risen Christ. We see Jesus meeting the astonished women as they leave
the empty tomb. We see him appearing to the disciples and “Doubting Thomas.” We
see him being made known in the breaking of the bread to the travelers on the
road to Emmaus. In the last three Sundays, the focus shifts to Jesus packing his
bags and getting ready to return to the Father, making sure that his buddies
are ready to receive the Holy Spirit, start the Christian Church, and generally
carry on without his physical presence. But in that middle fourth Sunday—for reasons
my seminary education and the miracle that is Google are inadequate to explain—we
hear about sheep.
Why
do we get this “Good Shepherd” Sunday? Beats me. At least we get a chance to
recite that most popular Psalm of David’s which so many of us memorized in
Sunday School (Psalm 23). God is the caregiver who wants only the best for us,
leads us where we ought to go, and is the source of every blessing we’ll ever know.
It’s unfortunate that this lovely Psalm is so often used for funerals. It’s
really about life.
The
gospel reading (John 10:1-10)—as the Bible commentaries remind me—may be a bit
of Jesus’ commentary on the events which preceded it in chapter 9. Remember,
back in the day there were no numbered chapters and verses in the Bible. When
Jesus uses this sheepfold metaphor and talks about “thieves and bandits (v.8),
he’s still talking smack about the Pharisees who kicked the man born blind out
of the synagogue. They refused to recognize God’s work because it didn’t fit in
with their preconceived notions.
In
the Bible “shepherd” was often used as a metaphor for the leaders of the people
whether such leaders be kings or religious figures. I’m naturally tempted—given
the current circumstances here in the U.S.—to launch into a diatribe on false
shepherds and excoriate Christian Nationalists, but I think it might be more
interesting to drill down on what this passage says about Jesus and the sheep
themselves.
In
verse seen Jesus says, “I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep.” The gate has
two functions: it keeps the sheep in the sheepfold where they are safe, and it
lets them out to the pasture where they can feed and have abundant life.
In
his wonderful 2011 memoir Bred of Heaven[i],
the Welsh journalist Jasper Rees writes about spending a week on a sheep farm
in the Cywarch Valley. Wales has about three times more sheep than people, and
the Welsh have been in the sheep business for over 3,000 years. Jasper lovingly
points out that sheep enjoy a long and well-deserved reputation for being some
of the dumbest animals our good Lord ever created. They’re not particularly
adroit at decision-making, so they depend on the shepherd (and often the sheep
dogs) to move them from one pasture to another and into and out of the
sheepfold. Sheep need to keep moving, and much of a shepherd’s work is managing
this locomotion.
Jasper
recounts an event when he and the farmer’s son, Owain, attempted to repatriate
an errant sheep belonging to a neighbor’s flock. This critter had somehow managed
to fall in with Owain’s sheep. When he and Jasper attempted to capture it, it
ran from them just as Jesus said a sheep would. It didn’t know their voices.
Eventually, Jasper managed to grab the outlaw sheep by the fleece while Owain
put a bag over its head. Blinded, the sheep forgot to keep running away and just
laid down. Without vision, sheep don’t move.
Can
you guess who we are in Jesus’ sheep metaphor? Yup. That’s right: we’re the
sheep. We need vision, and we have to keep moving. Martin Luther told us the
Church is always reforming. Jesus is always leading us to new pastures.
I’ve
often written about a vision for the American Church. In the years ahead we’ll
get away from giant, expensive buildings. Our clergy will be bi-vocational and
not depend on the Church as a source of income. We’ll stop emphasizing individual
salvation and we won’t worry about going to Heaven. Our job will be to love and
serve our neighbors and bring the Kingdom of Heaven here to Earth.
I
am sensing something of a renaissance within my own congregation. We are
getting out of the sheepfold and reaching out to the community with our public
events. We are inviting outsiders to participate. Currently, we’re working on
developing a new model of worship with our Wednesday night fellowship. We’re
also working on a new model of Christian Men’s Ministry. This won’t be the old
way of having the men form a property committee or a supper club, but a real
fellowship where truths are spoken and scripture is taught.
We
already grow vegetables on the church lawn for our Lutheran food cupboard, but
we have been approached by our Seventh Day Adventist friends about opening a
food cupboard for our neighbors in need right here in our facility.
Our
Good Shepherd is calling His sheep out of the comfort of the sheepfold and into
newer pastures. Jesus is also calling each of us as individuals. We’re called
to come to the Gate—either to enter the fold and be part of the flock, or to
get out of our comfort zone and explore how our lives can better serve and give
glory to God.
However
the Shepherd is calling you, keep moving safely in the knowledge that He IS
our shepherd, and we shall not be in want.
Peace
be with you, my friend. Do come again.
[i] Rees,
Jasper: Bred of Heaven: One Man’s Quest to Reclaim His Welsh Roots (London,
Profile Books, Ltd. 2011). Really fun book. You don’t even need to be Welsh to
enjoy it.
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