4 Easter B April 26, 2015
Luther Memorial Church Seattle, WA
The Rev. Julie G. Hutson
Acts 4: 5-12 + Psalm 23 + 1 John 3: 16-24 + John 10: 11-18
Shepherd of all the sheep, tender of all flocks, open our hearts and our ears that we might hear your voice and follow you. Amen.
I am the good shepherd, says Jesus. I wonder what this means to us? I have never in my entire life met an actual shepherd. Never. Farmers and zoo keepers and veterinarians and all sorts of other folks who tend to animals, but never ever a shepherd.
The people in ancient Israel who heard Jesus make this declaration had probably known a shepherd or two in their lifetimes. They were the ones who were working this lowly, hard scrabble kind of profession.
Still, I’ve never met a shepherd.
So I decided that I would be on the look out this week for other professions and tasks in our society today that might also describe what Jesus was and is like, in relationship to those who follow him.
I was at the synod office and I noticed that in the Bishop’s office he has his shepherd’s staff, which is also called a crozier, in one of the corners of his office. A crozier is a sign of the office of Bishop, because it is a part of the task of the bishop to be something like a shepherd. But our bishop keeps a toilet plunger and a pair of rubber gloves in the other corner of his office. He says that this is a much better metaphor for what a Bishop has to deal with in her or his ministry. It’s messy. It means working with congregations to help them get unstuck from what keeps them from serving into their full potential. It means clearing away the….um….. stuff….so that the realities of living as disciples of Jesus have room and freedom to flow freely. So, perhaps if we used this metaphor, Jesus would be a plumber….helping us unstop the clogged up places in our lives.
I don’t know. As much as I appreciate our Bishop….I am the roto rooting plumber, said Jesus, just doesn’t do much for me.
I then saw a story on Facebook about the workers in the tulip fields in Mt. Vernon who are deadheading the tulips. All of the color and beauty there on top of those green stems is being plucked off and discarded. Hmm. This has some potential. Because if those workers don’t pluck off that flower, the tulip will not regenerate in the next growing season.
How often do we reach some achievement, some blossoming, some blooming goal in our lives and think we have made it there and can remain there entirely on our own? That, like a stunning yellow tulip, we can stand straight and tall in the field and forget what it took to get us there. Someone to plant, someone to water, someone to fertilize. And in order to grow in the next season of our lives, we are going to have to allow Jesus to come along and deadhead all that we’ve worked so hard for. All that we’ve become overly attached to.
This makes some sense to me, especially when we consider the state of our congregations in mainline denominations. After WW II we began to grow into tall and strong and vibrant plants…..planted in rows in cities and towns. We blossomed into what we imagined to be our full selves – our pews were bursting at the seams and our Sunday School classes were full of children and we needed lots of parking and multiple worship services on Sunday just to fit everyone in. And it never occurred to us that the social and cultural needs that led to that kind of growth, that led to us building bigger and better buildings just for ourselves….that this wasn’t a sustainable plan; that it wasn’t the plan of the Master Gardener for the whole of Creation.
I am the Master Gardener. That has possibilities. And we actually will have more about that next Sunday.
Then, I asked Sister Liz Colver, a Deaconness and a daughter of this congregation, and our synod’s community organizing specialist, what she thought about this metaphor of Jesus as Good Shepherd. After all, she has a son she named Shepherd, so I figured she might have something more to say.
She said that Jesus is a community organizer. She said, and I quote: “a community organizer is a person who knows the people in their context, holds their stories as sacred, and builds relational power that moves people to action that can change the context for the better. Good organizers”, she went on, “have reciprocal relationships with people that allow for trust, expectancy, and promise – a good organizer always follows through and makes good in relationship. Like a shepherd, an organizer guides, moves, and cares deeply for their networks. However,” she concluded, “I’m biased.”
I am the good community organizer, said Jesus. Yeah, I think I can go with that one, too.
And then, I found this metaphor, from a lovely English woman: “The Lord is my Choirmaster” (we might say Choir Director.) “I shall never be out of step with the music. The Lord leads me in songs of praise and thanksgiving as I remember God’s love and goodness to me. The Lord causes me to hum softly as I go about my daily tasks. The Lord sings me a quiet lullaby to bring me rest at the close of the day. The Lord teaches me a restful, quiet air to sing which brings peace to my troubled spirit. Sometimes as I feel God’s power and majesty my soul is lifted up in a symphony of swelling music; I sing out in joy and praise, letting myself go and losing myself in the glorious sound of the orchestra, full of confidence, pride, happiness, and enjoyment. But there are times when the music is silent, or strident, or unfamiliar. At those times I look to my choirmaster to guide me and keep me on the right note. Then once again there will be harmony. I shall sing happily and my song will bring me joy and inner peace, until the day when I shall join in the heavenly chorus above with those I have loved and lost awhile.” [1]
I am the choir director, said Jesus. That has possibility as well.
Of course, the reality is that what we actually have is Jesus’ statement: I am the good shepherd. And although it may be an unfamiliar image in our daily living, there are truths enough inherent in this statement that it’s worth holding onto it. One of those truths is that Jesus is the shepherd to many sheep. Lots of sheep, in fact. Some would argue all of the sheep. Or at least that what he says in verse 16: I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.
We spend a lot of time, too much time, trying to figure out or point out who is “in” and who is “out” and the Good Shepherd reminds us that this is, in fact, not our job. That it is the job of the shepherd to bring along all of the sheep, even the ones not from this flock, even the sheep we have ourselves excluded and called “the other.” There are other sheep, Jesus says, and he will bring them along as well.
This image of the shepherd would have had a double edged meaning in Jesus’ day. The Roman authorities often used the term and image of “shepherd” for its kings. For Jesus to say “I am THE good shepherd” would be something like saying that he was THE king. It was a politically dangerous statement and we know that eventually he did in fact lay down his life because of it and because of us.
I am the good shepherd, Jesus says. Who knows us and loves us and protects us. I am the good shepherd, Jesus says, who will bring along all of the sheep so that we are one flock. I am the good shepherd, willing to lay down his life for the sheep. I am the good shepherd, Jesus says, and that is the good news for us, the sheep of his pasture. Thanks be to God. Amen.
[1] Rodgers, Margaret. (With edits by this preacher for inclusive language)