Shepherds,
Sheep, and Suffering
Psalm 23, 1 Peter 2:19-25. John 10:1-10
The readings today mark this as “Good Shepherd”
Sunday – brimming with imagery of genteel flocks of sheep and lambs, sated with
abundance of food, water, and the security of a loving shepherd. As one who grew up without the benefit of
television, I had to create my own images of the scenes I read about or heard
on the radio. I have to confess that the
advent of TV left something lacking for me.
Fifty years later, I am still appalled at the belly on the Lone Ranger
as he appeared on television and Tonto looked about as much like a Native
American as some of my Swedish relatives.
The 23rd Psalm is one of the most
widely read scripture reading at funerals.
It was only in the 20th century that it become so closely
associated with the burial rite through it use in movies. Perhaps in our culture, death is so
frightening that we are happy to be treated as sheep at that stage of
life. But the idea of being a docile
member of a flock is not nearly so popular as our self-images of independence,
self-capacity, and control of our lives that we prefer to assume.
We tend to romanticize these verses and isolate them
from the day to day rigors of earning a living and making our way in a
competitive and pressure- filled world.
Truth be told, the message of the 23rd Psalm is full of
meaning for us as we seek our way as followers of The Way. And if Peter’s words are taken seriously,
our call to follow Christ in suffering, echoing Jesus’ command to take up our
cross, demands we have a shepherd who can guide us, guard us, and bring us
through the rigors of standing firm in God’s kingdom while having our feet in
the world.
The reading from Peter’s epistle triggered an old
hymn I learned in my Methodist youth -
Alas! and did my Savior bleed, and did my Sovereign die?
Would he devote that sacred head for sinners such as I?
At the cross, at the cross, where I first saw the light,
and the burden of my heart rolled away;
it was there by faith I received my sight,
and now I am happy all the day!
This great Isaac Watts hymn was perhaps one of the
greatest hymns of the 18th century, widely sung throughout the
year. When the refrain was added in the
19th century by Ralph Hudson, a Civil War veteran, the hymn began to
evolve primarily into an Easter hymn.
Although many of Watts’ hymns made it into the Anglican and Episcopal
hymnals, this one did not. Never the
less, it has long been a favorite of mine if for no other reason than the
manner in which the refrain incorporates the idea of happiness with the almost
melancholia of the tune and its overall lyrics.
Thy body slain, sweet Jesus, Thine and bathed in its own blood
While the firm mark of wrath divine, His soul in anguish stood.
Perhaps the strong imagery Watts used kept it out
of our hymnal but it is this imagery that is called to mind by Peter’s words as
well as those of Jesus.
This fourth Sunday of Easter bears the aroma of
mutton -- it clearly portrays Christ as the shepherd and as the door or gate of
the sheepfold. But this shepherd is not
one who shies from suffering – even when it is undeserved and unnatural. More on that in a moment.
In John, there are seven “I AM’s” used to
demonstrate that Jesus is the Son of God.
John uses I AM’s in the way that Matthew demonstrates Jesus’ Messiahship
through fulfillment of OT prophecy. In
today’s Gospel, Jesus states, “I am the gate for the sheep” and
again, “I am the gate.” Some
translations of the Johannine text we read today use the word “door” rather than
“gate,” for the Greek word thura.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote in one of his letters
from a Nazi prison about the advantage of living in a prison cell:
You
become entirely aware, he reasoned, that the door is the only way out. More than that: The door of a cell can be
opened only from the outside. When
Jesus speaks of saving those who pass through the door, he has rescue in
mind. Those who find that door are
saved not only from the phony shepherds on the outside aggressively seeking
their soul; they’re also saved from a potentially much worse enemy on the
inside — themselves.
The door can symbolize exit and entrance into new
freedom and new life – the symbol of the open door invites movement, from
trouble and failure into hope and possibility for the future. No wonder Jesus uses this image as one of
the ways to identify himself as the Son of God.
In Exodus, the Hebrews sprinkled blood on the
doorposts of their homes in Egypt, saving them from the death angel as it
passed over them, on the night in which they were finally allowed to go out
from captivity in Egypt.
In the Temple, a veil separated the Holy Place
from the Holy of Holies, symbolizing exclusive, privileged access to the
presence of God and at Jesus’ death, the veil was rent, from top to bottom.
John Wesley used the metaphor in his classic
formulation of the salvation journey: “Our main doctrines, which include all
the rest, are three: That of repentance, of faith, and of holiness. The first
of these we account, as it were, the porch of religion; the next, the door; the
third, religion itself.”
So again Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell
you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and
bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by
me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes
only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it
abundantly.”
Jesus offers us a doorway to a full and abundant
life. What might it take for us to walk
through that door? If repentance is the
front porch of religion, what do we need to leave behind in order to come
in? If a life of holiness lies just
beyond the threshold, what new commitments are demanded of us?
Just as truas is a key word in Jesus’
statement, so pasco is a Greek word, used four time in the brief passage
we read today from I Peter – and a word which appears frequently in Peter’s
letters.
Was it for crimes that I have done, he groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! Grace unknown! And love beyond degree!
Well might the sun in darkness hide and shut his glories in,
When Christ, the mighty Maker died, for man the creature’s
sin.
In the prayer which our Lord taught us, we ask
that God forgive us our trespasses (or sins) as we forgive those who trespass
(or sin) against us. In the Jesus
Prayer as in many of our communal prayers, we repeat the words ‘Lord have
mercy.’ I must confess that if I gained
nothing else this past Lenten season, I gained a new understanding of the
import of these words. How can I seek
God’s mercy if I cannot show mercy to others?
I have come to realize in a deep and profound
sense what I gain by entering into another’s suffering through receiving their
pain.
But we must enter this cautiously. Rowan Williams said, “At root it all has to
do with whether we believe that religion is about fullness of life or about
control.” The pericope read from
Peter’s epistle today omitted the opening 18th verse – the verse
that says, “Slaves, accept the authority of your masters with all deference,
not only those who are kind and gentle but also those who are harsh.” This verse, so often misused for control
and abuse, can instead, be understood as an opportunity to grow in God’s
Kingdom. Suffering CAN be for us a door
to fullness of life, depending on how we receive it.
We all suffer at times from natural causes – we
are reminded of this every time a wave of tornados or floods rake our
neighbors, every time one of our loved ones falls to the ravages of disease and
accident. We sometimes suffer from the
consequences of poor choices and actions on our own part. We hurt those closest to us and alienate
them; we abuse our bodies with food, drugs, inadequate rest and exercise; and
we harm our minds and souls by getting caught up in things of the world. We suffer the ravages of those things.
But to suffer as Christ suffered is to enter into
the suffering of others. It is to
absorb the pain and alienation that others inflict on us out their own fears,
doubts, and failures. It is to stand
fast in our calling and hope when the insanity of the world takes over the
culture in which we live – to hold on to our love for even the guilty when the
cries of ‘Crucify him!’ reverberate among the crowd.
Thus might I hide my blushing face while His dear cross
appears,
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness, and melt my eyes to tears.
But drops of grief can ne'er repay the debt of love I owe:
Here, Lord, I give myself away; 'tis all that I can do!
At the cross, at the cross, where I first saw the light,
and the burden of my heart rolled away;
it was there by faith I received my sight,
and now I am happy all the day!
Grant that when we hear his voice we may know him
who calls us each by name, and follow where he leads. Amen
The
Rev. John Dryden Burton
EASTER IV
April 13, 2008
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