Father Carlton Kelley is the Rector of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Grayslake, IL.
This sermon is based on the Gospel of St. John 10:1-10; to read the passage, please click here.
ALLELUIA. CHRIST IS RISEN! THE LORD IS RISEN, INDEED. ALLELUIA!
This Sunday is affectionately known as Good Shepherd Sunday, for obvious reasons. The metaphor of Jesus as the Good Shepherd is one of the richest in John's Gospel, in a Gospel known for its rich metaphors. We have a dizzying array of sheep and pasture, gates and fences, shepherds, thieves, wolves and hired hands, theft and rescue. And all given to us to make one single point: that the Lord we follow is always the good, not the bad, shepherd. As a former and dearly-loved bishop of mine used to say, "God is good. All the time."
Now, more than ever perhaps, we need to be reminded that God is always and everywhere good, no matter what circumstances conspire to convince us otherwise. It seems that, of late, we have had more than our fair share of circumstances conspiring to convince us that God is neither good nor caring. Yet, as that most beloved of Psalms— Psalm 23— tells us: "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me." God is always and everywhere with us and, in fact, closer to us than we are to ourselves. That closeness is what sheep rely on and we are able to count on— even when they and we are ignoring it!
I don't know what kind of experience you may have had with sheep. I love them as I love all creatures great and small, but I don't know them. I have not had one as a pet, though that would have been lovely; did not participate in 4-H; and I most certainly haven't been a shepherd to them. On my first trip to England, I was treated to the sight of large flocks calming grazing as I and my companion drove past them on the busy road not far from their green pasture. That sight itself was, for me, one of instant joy, though I can imagine others might see it as one evoking intensive labor and better suited for different purposes than inculcating joy in me! My experience that day of seeing calm sheep from a busy road might well be an apt metaphor for our Christian journey.
Some of you may know the Christian education approach called The Catechesis of the Good Shepherd, developed by Sofia Cavalletti and Gianna Gobbi. The remarkable work of these women sprang from the methods of Maria Montessori, the famed Italian physician and educator who was a keen and accurate observer of the habits of children. Sofia Cavaletti was a student of the Bible and an educator and, with her partner, Gianna Gobbi, developed their catechesis or teaching. They noted that children seem to have a natural affinity for the image of the Good Shepherd, and an inherent capacity for wonder. That capacity for wonder may be one of the reasons that Jesus told us we must be like little children to enter the kingdom of heaven. Cavaletti also observed that one of the earliest known images of Christ, found in a Roman catacomb of the 3rd century, is as a beardless young man carrying a lamb across his shoulders and holding what may be a jar of water. She then opined that perhaps the young church, as do children, naturally gravitated to an image of the young Jesus as it found its footing, developed its theology, and cemented its identity.
The church went through the same kind of maturation as any of us do, and as Jesus did. It is often easy for us to forget, despite the ubiquity of Christmas pageants, that Jesus did not emerge from Mary's womb fully-formed and ready for ministry. No, there were days of diapers and teething and falls, discovering favorite foods, the first century version of potty training and, in all likelihood, some bad moods. Jesus was like us in every way, yet without sin. The Day of Pentecost which we will celebrate on May 31, though in all probability not together as we continue social distancing, while characterized as the birthday of the church with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon all those gathered, did not mean we were completely formed in the ways of Christ. A quick reading of the Acts of the Apostles will confirm that. We had, and still have, much maturing to do, we who are "the sheep of his pasture," as we pray in Psalm 23. And, of course, we are those same sheep, often calmly grazing in God's love, but just as likely to wander and find ourselves in a world of trouble.
It is often said that sheep aren't particularly bright. I don't know if that's true, but I do know from my reading that they are, most definitely, prone to wander. And, God knowing that they do wander, has given them a remarkable capacity when they find themselves lost, to sit down and start to bleat until the shepherd finds them and carries them home. They don't just continue to wander. Knowing they are lost, they wait. Unlike, let us say, the Prodigal Son, they don't continue to get into trouble, though trouble may certainly find them in the form of a wolf or other predator. But they hope that their shepherd will be the first to hear their bleating— a truly plaintive cry for help. And they respond to his voice.
In a remarkable experiment, three different people were asked to call a flock of sheep with the same words used by their shepherd. When people they did not know called, the sheep did not respond— at all. They continued grazing as if they had heard nothing. When the shepherd called them, they looked up immediately in his direction, waiting for instructions!
When a busy road needs to be crossed, if the shepherd goes into the roadway, busy though it may be with traffic, the sheep will follow without so much as a glance at the traffic whizzing by them. That is trust. That is confidence. And those are attributes of love.
Our walk with Christ, he as our shepherd, we as his sheep, brings us into contact with many competing voices calling out desperately for our attention. Often these voices claim to show us the good, while often their only claim is to expedience, and many times they are simply wrong and, if we pay attention to them, potentially harmful. Amid all the noise and confusion of the world, how do we, like sheep, know the voice of Jesus, a voice we are able to trust with complete confidence? How do we walk through the valley of the shadow of death and, as the Psalmist tells us, fear no evil, for we know God is with us?
Like sheep in pastures, we must learn to recognize the voice of our Good Shepherd. But, how, we may very well ask, when there are so many voices to which we could and do listen, voices that are tantalizing and seductive, promising far more than they deliver? We are like sheep without a shepherd, who sit and bleat in a morass of our own making.
The voice of Jesus, our good Shepherd, is always one of love, though he may be challenging us to greater experiences of love, such as learning to love those for whom we have an almost innate ability to dislike and to mistrust and condemn. Are we, simply put, loving those on the margins of society, those we have blocked from full participation? Is our society no larger than our circle of friends, our church, or our nation? Are we loving those who many of our intimates may regard as unworthy of love?
The voice of Jesus is always one of justice, though the granting of justice to those we consider unworthy is difficult— and always has been. Does our love then issue in a justice that wants the best for all, whether that best is access to healthy food, safe housing, health care, and education, and all supported by a fair and reasonable wage? Do we honestly believe, according to one reliable statistic, that 26 people, not families or corporations, but individuals, should control as much, if not more, wealth than 3.6 billion people? The prophets of old most certainly did not so think. Jesus spoke more about our use of money as sure and certain vital signs of our souls' health than he ever said about prayer.
The voice of Jesus is always one of freedom. Does our love constrict ourselves and others into preconceived patterns of propriety, or does it give everyone the needed freedom to explore the absolute uniqueness of their reality, their soul? Do we want to control the freedom of women, people of color, native Americans, ethnic minorities, glbtq folks, the mentally challenged, immigrants and refugees, transsexuals and others, simply because they frighten us or are convenient pawns in a game of political expediency whether they are in our churches or in the wider society? Are we, in fact, trying to control that which we find distasteful in ourselves? As we endure this pandemic of COVID-19, the reality must not be lost on us that African-Americans are dying at a far greater rate than their Caucasian counterparts. This is part of the legacy of our society's continually denying people of color a full expression of their freedom. Yet, they are not alone in their plight, because it is repeated everywhere freedom is denied.
The voice of Jesus is always one of humility. Does our love recognize our individual and multiple limitations, or always insist on its own way? Is our self-love more informative than our love for others? Are we easily offended, always believing resources, both personal and communal, are scarce, and thus jealously guarding our rights instead of granting others theirs? Is the letter of the law more important than its spirit, the spirit of mercy and compassion?
None of this, my friends, is easy. The working out of our salvation as Jesus' sheep is a life-long exploration in many ways into the unknown, into new challenges, new circumstances, new chances to love and to grow in new pastures of mercy and justice, peace and humility; into faith, hope and love. As an old hymn had it: "New occasions teach new duties." But in all of this difficulty, Jesus is constantly beside us to comfort and to heal, and always ahead of us to call us forward into the new reality of his kingdom in which all will be able to dwell beside still waters and enjoy a cup overflowing with goodness and love.
But we will only be able to complete our journey into love, justice, and mercy; into faith, hope and love— which is always into Jesus— if we make daily use of the tools of Scripture reading, prayer, and the Sacraments of our redemption. None of us would be able to survive eating once a week. No Christian should believe that Bible reading and prayer only on Sunday is enough to sustain us and propel us forward into more and more grace. The journey is simply too long and, at times like now, too hard for us to settle for an occasional snack of the Divine. Jesus offers us the richest of banquets that are available to us daily for our souls' health. This is in no way to suggest that we earn our salvation through these necessary practices.
Salvation is always a free gift given to us out of God's infinite store of mercy. Yet, sheep accept the love and care of their shepherd and use what he provides. The sheep eat when led to pasture— they make use of the food they have been given freely and without question. They do not wait for a better time, a more opportune time, a more convenient time to eat. They enjoy the banquet that is set before them. And in so doing, become better, more complete sheep. If we enjoy the banquet of spiritual richness set before us, with the cooperation of the Holy Spirit we become better people, more complete people. This banquet of Scripture, prayer, and service to others opens us up to recognize our shepherd—and our fellow sheep— wherever we may find them. Our eyes are opened, our ears unstopped, and we believe that God's goodness and mercy will follow us all the days of our lives.
The Catacombs of St. Callixtus, Deacon, Mid-3rd Century
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