FOLLOWING THE SHEPHERD
Psalm
23
Revelation 7:9-17 John 10:22-30
Growing up without television, I learned to create my own images as I
read the books I so much loved as a child or listened to the exciting
programs on the radio. I’ve
perhaps mentioned before but the advent of TV was rather underwhelming
to me. Fifty years down the road and I still remember being
appalled to see the Lone Ranger’s
belly hanging over his belt, the flatness of fake studio scenery – and
for that matter, a Tonto who looked about as much like a Native
American as some of my Swedish relatives. Life’s realities tend to clash with the images we create in our own minds.
Last week’s gospel ended
with Jesus' reconciling Peter to himself with the commands to “feed my
lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep, follow me.” Today recalls an
earlier incident and presents a piece of Jesus’
teaching that emphatically invites us to share in that reconciliation
and invitation. The readings for Easter IV signify this as “Good
Shepherd” Sunday. Brimming with imagery of genteel flocks of
sheep and lambs, loaded with an abundance of food, water, and the
security of a loving shepherd, it is quintessential Eastertide –
entirely fitting for Baptism – and for Burial.
The 23rd Psalm is one of the most widely read scripture readings at
funerals. It actually became closely associated with the burial
rite only in the 20th century due to exposure in Hollywood
movies. In our culture, death is feared; so frightening that we
are willing to be treated as sheep at that stage of life.
Otherwise, the idea of being a docile member of a flock is not nearly
so popular as are our egoist images of independence, self-capacity, and
control of our own destiny in which we prefer to believe. Reality
clashes with our images of self-importance.
We tend to romanticize these verses, isolating them from the day-to-day
rigors of earning a living and making our way in a competitive,
pressure-filled world. Truth be told, the message of the 23rd
Psalm is full of meaning for us as followers of Christ. And if
Jesus’ invitation to “Follow me” is
to be taken seriously, then our call to follow him in suffering, 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 closely related reading from the Revelation of Jesus Christ to Saint John reminded me of an Isaac Watts’ hymn often heard 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!
Watts wrote what was perhaps one of the most loved hymns of
the 18th century. Widely sung throughout the year, after the
refrain was added in the 19th century by a Civil War veteran, Ralph
Hudson, it began to evolve primarily into an Easter hymn.
Although many of Watts’ hymns made it into our Episcopal hymnal, this
one did not. Never the less, it has long been a favorite. I
know I am moved by the manner in which the refrain interweaves words of
joy with shades of sorrow in its tune and overall lyrics.
Perhaps Watts’ strong
imagery kept it out of our hymnal but this is same imagery called to
mind by the scene in Revelation 4 before the throne as well as Jesus’ own words in the 10th chapter of John’s Gospel.
Thy body slain, sweet Jesus, Thine – and bathed in its own blood –
While the firm mark of wrath divine, His soul in anguish stood.
Sacrifice. The fourth Sunday of Easter always bears
the aroma of mutton – it portrays Christ as the good shepherd, a
shepherd who does not shy away from danger and suffering – even when
that suffering is undeserved and unnatural. From earliest times,
sheep raising arose from and was closely related to cultic worship and
sacrifice. Hence, Jesus frequently uses the image of the good
shepherd in his proclamation.
There are seven “I AM’s” found in the 10 th chapter of John’s Gospel though today’s pericope manages to miss them all. John uses Jesus’
“I AM’s” in much the same way that Matthew demonstrates Jesus'
Messiah-ship through fulfillment of OT prophecy. Jesus twice
states, “I am the door (or gate) for the sheep” and twice, “I am the
good shepherd.” Again, “I am God's Son,” and, “I am in the
Father.”
Jesus opens tombs, frees prisoners, slaves, the captive; he leads his sheep out of death’s prison. These powerful images of redemption pervade our Easter journey and are reflected in the Baptismal service.
One of his sheep, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, imprisoned in a Nazi
concentration camp at Flossenburg, wrote about the advantage of living
in a prison cell. He said:
You become entirely aware 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, the gate, the way through the waters: symbols of
exit and entrance, entrance into new freedom and new life. The
symbol of the open door invites movement, from trouble and failure into
hope and possibility. No surprise when Jesus uses this
image to identify himself as the Son of God.
In Exodus, the Hebrews sprinkled blood on the door posts 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 John 10, Jesus is walking with his disciples on Solomon’s
porch at the Temple. In that Temple, a veil separated the Holy
Place from the Holy of Holies, symbolizing exclusive, privileged access
to the presence of God. At Jesus’ death, that veil was rent, from
top to bottom.
John Wesley used a 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.” If repentance is the front porch of
religion, what do we need to leave behind in order to come in? If
faith is the door, let us hold fast to Jesus’ words: I AM the door.”
Watts' hymn again:
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.
Follow me our Lord says. Where, Lord? Into
suffering and the death to self that is life. In the prayer
which he taught us, we ask God to forgive our sins as we forgive those
who sin against us. How can I seek God’s mercy if I cannot show
mercy to others? I have with living come to realize in a deep and
profound sense what is gained by entering into another’s suffering
through receiving their pain.
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. That is reality, not image – life is not always so neat or
pretty as we might wish to imagine.
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
St.
James Episcopal Church
Springfield,
Missouri
Easter IV - 25 April 2010