A Sermon preached
in
Christ Church, Grosse Pointe, Michiganby The Reverend Vicki Hesse, Associate
May 7, 2017,
Easter 4, Year A
For online access to the readings click here.
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of all our hearts be
acceptable to you, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer.
Our readings today (about the gate, the
shepherd and the sheep) remind me, surprisingly, of my mother’s
hospitality. Any friend of mine or my
siblings was a friend of hers. Ex-boyfriends
of my sisters still hung out at our house even after they broke up. She modeled
for me gracious “Southun” welcome with lighthearted humor. Our only rule was to introduce our friends to
my mother, so she knew who was in her flock-of-the-day. My mother modeled how
to be a shepherd of sheep, as these texts echo today, in offering food and
water and safety. These are the tasks of a shepherd, despite that fact that few
of us urbanites have ever met a real shepherd (or a sheep).
Theologian Frederick Buechner wrote about a
real shepherd, named Vernon Beebe. Beebe “…used to keep sheep. Some of them he gave names to, and some of
them he didn't, but he knew them equally well either way,” he wrote. “…If one
of them got lost, he didn't have a moment's peace till he found it again. If
one of them got sick or hurt, he would move heaven and earth to get it well
again. He would feed them out of a bottle when they were newborn lambs … and called them in at the end of the day so
the wild dogs wouldn't get them. He
would wade through snow up to his knees with a bale of hay in each hand to feed
them on bitter cold winter evenings, shaking it out and putting it in the
manger… under the light of a …forty-watt bulb hanging down from the low ceiling
to light up their timid, greedy, foolish, half holy faces as they pushed and
butted each other…”
Buechner’s description endears us to the
reality of a shepherd. And, if God is
like a shepherd, there are more than just a few ways that people like you and I
are like sheep. Being timid, greedy, foolish, and half holy is only part of it.
Like sheep we get hungry, and hungry for more than just food. We get thirsty
for more than just drink. Our souls get hungry and thirsty…”[1]
Maybe this sense of inner emptiness is what
makes us know we have souls in the first place.
But once in a while that inner emptiness is filled. That is what
Psalm 23 means by saying that God is a shepherd: God feeds that part of
us which is hungriest and most in need of feeding. God pours a drink for the
part of us which is parched and most in need of hydration. And God in Jesus is
right beside us in dark valleys.
This makes us feel warm and secure. We like to think someone is watching out and
caring for us, particularly when the world seems so cold and dangerous. We are glad to be sheep belonging to a good
shepherd. We like being taken care of –
well, at times. But at other times, we may not like the idea of being taken
care of. Sometimes, we resent this care and fight it. “Mom, let me do it
myself!” we might cry. Think about it – being a sheep has its
disadvantages. Sheep are not so
bright. They are fragile. They tend to wander off and lose their way.
I remember watching my friend Mark sheer
his flock one day. He just tipped the sheep on their backs and they lay,
defenseless, as he clipped their wool. To
be like a sheep is to be like a child, being guided and taken care of by
someone larger and stronger – always receiving and seldom giving. As children,
we needed this loving care. As we
mature, we have an even deeper need. That
need, that call from God, is to care for and feed someone else. That is when we find abundant life.
The trouble with seeing Jesus as the Good
Shepherd is that it makes us sheep –helpless, needy, sheep. The trouble with thinking of ourselves as
sheep is that sheep do not ever grow up to be shepherds.
In the story of Jesus’ resurrection
appearance at the Sea of Galilee, Jesus meets Peter and the others as they were
out fishing. Once they notice that the
man on the shore is Jesus, they bring him some fish, which he cooks for
them. Over breakfast, Jesus asks Peter, “Do
you love me? If you do, feed my sheep.” He
doesn’t say, “I am the good shepherd and I will take care of you.” All he says
is “Feed my sheep.” To Peter and to us,
Jesus says, “You, too are called to be shepherds. Stop worrying about who is going to
appreciate you and find ways to show appreciation to other people. Start getting joy from what you can give
rather than what you can get.”
Christ is the good shepherd of the sheep AND
the recruiter and trainer of shepherds.
This Christian life means both receiving
and giving. The hired hand’s voice is only one-sided, stealing the opportunity
for mutuality. This Christian life means
a blend - of caring for and being cared for, of giving and
receiving, of loving and being loved. Like serving at Crossroads, or
attending one of our Thursday Night “Getting To Us” sessions, or bringing
communion to shut-ins, or volunteering at VBS. This Christian life means being
led along paths we would not choose for ourselves, and being prodded by the
shepherd who knows our needs better than we know own.
This Christian life means, most profoundly,
trust. Trust that in every circumstance we
are protected and led by the one who stands guard against the worst the world
can do. It does not mean that death will
not come, that tragedy will not string, that our hearts will not be broken, that
someone will not betray us. Trusting the
Good Shepherd means that we might sing Psalm 23½:
Even though I walk through the corridors of
the ICU, I will not fear death…
Though I pass through the valley of dismay at
our political process, I will not be alone…
Though people may think less of me because
of my decisions, I will not lose heart…
Though my relationships are strained and my
job is uncertain, I will fear no evil…for you anoint me, guard me, love me.
This is really good news! To be free of fear, to be free of others’
unrealistic expectations, to be free of shame…THIS is a gift beyond words. I know this because I am a specialist in
fear, in uber-responsibility and paralyzing self-shame. But then there is this Good Shepherd, Jesus, who
promises to meet us in ways we cannot imagine in the most difficult places of
life – and death.
And in life and in death, through the gift
of the church, we learn that we do not belong to ourselves, but, ultimately, to
Jesus. He leads us to waters of baptism.
He sets before us a table of love in the face of all the world’s pain. He will
lead us safely home.
May we, this day, follow where he leads and
trust that he loves us beyond measure.
May we, this day, follow his voice, share
in his ministry allow him to guide us into paths of service and compassion.
And with this Good Shepherd, may we have
life, and have it abundantly.
Amen
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