May 7 Sermon

As most of us are aware, sheep are not terribly bright – though as I alluded to in the children’s message, they may well be brightly colored.*  They’re also, I find, incredibly entitled.  The first time Geoff and I went to Ireland we spent some time in the western region of Connemara, which is very hilly, very rocky, and very full of sheep.  Heading down the equivalent of a county highway, Geoff had to make a wide circle around one sheep which had chosen to take its morning nap on the pavement.  Later that morning, driving down a dirt track that led away from a trailhead, we tailed another sheep for several yards before it suddenly became aware of our presence, turned, demonstrated that sheep can look extremely offended, and then took a theatrical leap toward the side of the road. 

These are actually English sheep -- but close enough.

Recognizing that sheep are both rather dim and rather sure of their own self-importance heightens the truth, if not the comfort level, of Jesus’ portrayal of humans in today’s Gospel reading from John 10.  We are sheep.  Oh, my goodness, but we are sheep.  We struggle to grasp the world around us, and yet too often we act as though we have everything figured out.  We hide our uncertainty under a veneer of black-and-white absolutism.  We aren’t sure which road we should travel, and as a result we become obstructions.

There’s comfort, though, to be had here.  Jesus tells us that the sheep will know the shepherd’s voice.  A nineteenth-century scholar of Greece and the Levant noted that the sheep he encountered in Greece would respond eagerly to the voice of their shepherd, bounding up “with signs of pleasure and with a prompt obedience.”[1]  The sound of a stranger, however, sent the sheep high-tailing (high-tailing… get it?) in another direction.

If anything, Jesus’ words seem like encouragement to live into the more favorable aspects of our sheepy-ness.  We are congenitally stubborn, but we’re also given the promise that we will know Jesus’ voice.  The problem with us human sheep is that in our efforts to appear in control, we may fall prey more easily to the thieves and bandits who are trying to enter our fold by routes other than the gate. 

We could conduct a multi-year series on “ways humans are open to deception,” but it’s worth looking at a couple deceptions that might lead us astray from the truth of today’s gospel.  One trap we often fall into in our lives as Christians is the myth of the prosperity gospel.  It’s so very easy for us to believe the lies so many in American Christianity tell us – lies often told with the best of intent.  If you are faithful enough or pray hard enough, tithe enough or work hard enough, God will reward you.  The figures on your bank statement are a reasonably good representation of your salvation account up in heaven.  Do, do, do – and you will be saved.

Such theology is a recipe for disaster.  What happens when we do everything “right” and still trouble comes our way?  What happens when all the faith we can muster fails to bring material rewards? 

Often, we lose our faith, and that is the greatest tragedy of the prosperity gospel.  We’ve mistaken the voices of this world, voices that place trust in our own capacity, for the voice of God.

Alternatively, we might turn away from the world altogether, trusting that something better lies ahead in heaven and “our kingdom is not of this world,” anyway.  We might read today’s second lesson through this lens.  The second lesson reading is from 1 Peter 2:19-25, and worth sharing here… note, however, that the folks who pulled together the lectionary gave pastors a handy little “out” by excluding the preceding verse: “Slaves, accept the authority of your masters with all deference, not only those who are kind and gentle but those who are harsh.”

Ugh.

Seriously?

This passage seems like a one-way ticket to Meek-ville, and yet I’d argue that if we’re taking Jesus’ example seriously, his suffering was really a message of radical grace.  Remember Matthew 5?  “If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also?” (5:39)  Turning the other cheek was an act of transgression, exposing the lies of injustice to the light of truth.  Think of the American Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 1960s, for example.  Those parents in Birmingham in 1963 didn’t allow their children to go out and march in the presence of Bull Connor’s police dogs as an act of submission; they and so many others understood that evil must be exposed, in newspapers and on national television, for the injustices of segregation to be overcome.  So, too, we must recognize that Jesus’ suffering and death on the cross wasn’t a capitulation to the evils of this world.  Jesus overturned the evils of this world through his death and resurrection, restoring all creation by restoring our relationship with God.  We don’t have to wait for some distant time to come – God’s kingdom is here and now, swirling all around us, filled with possibility if we are willing to act like good sheep and listen.

How, then, can we discern?

Happily, we can trust in the voice of our shepherd.  Humility is an important first step...  We believe that we meet God in Scripture.  The Old and New Testaments repeat persistent themes that reveal to us the qualities of our threefold God: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.  The very persistence of these themes helps us sift the wheat from chaff and discern what God is trying to tell us.  Concern for righteousness and justice; grace that overflows the bounds of judgment; active willingness to use us screwed-up humans to fulfill God’s purpose; a love that always errs on the side of mercy.  And a lot of talk about shepherds.

We haven’t had a chance yet to read today’s psalm reading, but it’s one you’ll likely be familiar with… “The Lord is my shepherd?”  “I shall not want?”  Ringing a bell?  Psalm 23 is so familiar, in fact, that we may file it under “platitudes” and miss some of the power of its message.  Consider, for example, verse 4: “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff—they comfort me.”

“Even though.”  Not if.  The King James Version doesn’t even give us the benefit of an “even”: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.”  NIV is the same as our NRSV.  And Eugene Peterson is no help at all with his contemporary paraphrase in The Message Bible: “Even when.”  The common theme here is inevitability.

 (He is remarkably specific, however, in a manner that makes you wonder what he has against California: “Even when the way goes through Death Valley…”) 

It.  Is.  Inevitable.  We’ll walk through valleys.  Life is not all bunnies and rainbows.  Pastor Sue is experiencing that now.  Each of us has our own stories to tell.  Psalm 23 – and many, many other passages throughout the Word – makes it clear that God’s abundance has little to do with cash flow and everything to do with presence. 

You. Are. With. Me.  That is the key to Psalm 23, and to Jesus’ words in John 10, as well.

Jesus is the shepherd, and he’s also the gate.  Jesus is the voice to whom we listen, the one we follow, and the source of our life and salvation.  Abundance is found where Jesus is – and John 10 reminds us he is here already.  “I came that they may have life…” – not “I’m coming.”  Other translations agree.  Jesus is with us.  The remarkably good news, then, is that our life and hope is here, now, and in this place – in the midst of our anxiety and concern about national or international politics, our community, our families, and even in our uncertainty during this season of transition at Resurrection.  Jesus is here already.

Listening for Jesus is as simple – and as difficult – as trusting that he is present.  Thank the good Lord – literally – that he promised he’d be here first.  All we have to do is act like good sheep and follow.

 

* Notes on the children’s sermon: lots of sheep in Ireland – farmers keep track of their sheep with spray paint!  God tells us we are like sheep, and Jesus is our Good Shepherd.  Remember a couple weeks ago when Pastor Sue talked about marking others with the sign of the cross?  That’s something the pastor does when we’re baptized.  Those marks are like our spray paint, telling us God has marked us as belonging to God forever.

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[1] Hartley, “Researches in Greece and the Levant,” in Smith’s Bible Dictionary, http://biblehub.com/topical/s/sheep.htm, accessed May 2, 2017.