Journey's Weekly Homilies
Fourth Sunday of
Easter 5/11/03
Acts 4:8-12, 1John 3:1-2, John 10:11-18
Homily: Nancy
This Fourth
Sunday of Easter goes by the name of Good Shepherd Sunday, in the
church world. As you
know, the lectionary divides up the Gospels for us on a three-year
cycle, which we call Year A, Year B, Year C.
This year is Year B, in which most of the Gospel readings
are from the Gospel of Mark, but in all three years, a heavy
sprinkling of readings from the Gospel of John are thrown in.
Good Shepherd Sunday is one of those.
In Year A, (last
year) on Good Shepherd Sunday, we read the beginning of the tenth
chapter of John, the first 10 verses, in which we hear Jesus say
that the shepherd knows the sheep, and the sheep recognize their
shepherd.
This year, (Year
B), we hear the next 8 verses of that same chapter, chapter 10 of
John, in which the story continues and we learn how the shepherd
truly loves the sheep, to the point of willingly laying down his
LIFE for the sheep, and again we hear, “I am the good shepherd;
I know my own and my own know me.”
Next year (Year
C), on this Fourth Sunday of Easter, we will hear 9 more verses
from Chapter 10 of John. Next
year the promise words are completed, and Jesus says, “My sheep
hear my voice, and I know them, and they will follow me; and I
will give them eternal life, and they shall never perish, and no
one shall snatch them out of my hands…”
Throughout the
pages of the Hebrew scriptures, God is described as the shepherd
of Israel, and the chosen people are described as God’s flock.
We will make that language our own today, when we sing
together the 23rd Psalm.
This image of shepherd and sheep flows through our lives,
therefore, so regularly, that I believe we have numbed ourselves
to the meaning of them. I
believe we have romanticized and sentimentalized our image of
Jesus as the Good Shepherd to the point where these words no
longer challenge us. I
would like to propose that we re-open our hearts and see how rich
and how powerfully potent this idea can be, in placing us on a
path in our lives of faith and service.
So, if our image
of Jesus the good shepherd is formed by stained glass windows,
then we see Jesus standing there, in long flowing robes, no sweat,
no stains, no smell of manure.
In one hand he probably carries a willowy shepherd’s
crook that looks like a sweet walking stick.
In the other hand he might be cradling a sleeping lamb
whose wool is pure and white like snow.
Looking at this picture, you would think sheep the most
innocent and docile of all creatures and shepherding one of the
cushiest jobs around.
Well, it ain’t
so. I spent one of
the longest weeks of my life, in 7th grade Summer, on a
farm where sheep were the second largest group of harvesting
animals, just a few less than the dairy cows on the same hills. This seven-year-long week that I spent was at the invitation
of my friend’s family, and relieved by father from worrying
about me while my mother was in the hospital.
Barb’s family ALL worked on the farm.
The whole family worked.
It was necessary in order for them to make a living.
The sheep and cows were the truth of their lives and
whether they had food on the table or gas for truck, or money to
pay the doctor and hospital when her father had been almost killed
in the steel mill. There
was no insurance for these people except the value of the animals.
There was no talk of complaint among them when Barb’s
brother had suffered a fractured shoulder from being trampled by
the flock. They sat
around the dinner table and talked about the animals as if they
were part of the family. “Joesey
was limping this morning again, has anybody checked her leg?
No, but I’ll try to find her tonight after the milking is
done and see what’s wrong.”
Every one of them knew, and every one of them joined in the
knowledge that those animals were their livelihood.
Their own lives depended on their friends the sheep.
The shorter
people such as those of us under the age of 13, had the task both
early morning and early evening, of herding the animals in to
their corrals and feeding and milking places.
I can remember to this day how totally unimpressed those
sheep were by my presence. My
stick, my voice, nothing seemed to get their attention.
Barb climbed on the fence and watched me and laughed.
And somehow the whole flock kept getting closer, crowding
up against me, not even noticing that I was between them.
I felt a panic because they were so large, so dirty, so
smelly, so beyond my comprehension, that I wanted to just run
away. Barb let me
experience my panic for far too long, and then she jumped down off
the fence and shouted out, “Shirley!”
At that point
there was movement all around me, and an opening formed in the
threatening powerful crowd of sheep.
Their heads raised up from the grass and looked around, and
my friend placed her stick around a collar on one of the larger
sheep, and pulled on her, talking to her all the time, “Shirley,
come on now. Shirley,
it’s time for beddy-bye. Shirley,
let’s get the kids home for the night.
Shirley, show us the way to go home now.
Come on Shirley.” And
Barb walked with Shirley out front, and all the sheep began to
turn and follow. They
did not know me. Two of them turning at once almost knocked me
onto the ground. I
kept my balance, and I was the last sheep of the flock as we
paraded over this small hill toward the gate that brought them to
the other side of the fence, and “home” for the night.
I can remember
talking with my friend that night as we tried to go to sleep.
I remember her laughing at my fears and warning me that
herding the cows in tomorrow night was going to be an even bigger
challenge. But I
remember her saying, also, “Thank God for Shirley.” Barb knew the leader, she knew that at least that one sheep
would recognize her voice, and could be counted on to lead the
way. They all
belonged to one another. Their
lives were intertwined. What
was good for one was good for all of them, both the shepherds and
the sheep.
Every time I face
this scripture the smell and challenge of that week of my life
comes back to me. I
somehow have an inkling of what it might be like to be a shepherd
wondering whether my life is worth more than the sheep's.
I have a hint about how long it would take to establish a
relationship with even one of those following ewes and rams, so
that they knew me and I knew them.
I have a notion about the world in which our brother Jesus
lived his life. In
his world there were nearly THIRTY different words for sheep.
Sheep were so central to their lives that nothing less than
30 names would do…. THIRTY words to classify which category,
which quality of value, which age, which birth month, which color
truly signified a particular sheep.
Shepherds lived a horribly challenging existence, but their
world was dependent on them.
Being the good shepherd meant to be totally enmeshed in the
lives of the sheep. Being
the good shepherd meant even the laying down of your life for the
sake of them, to save them from what ever threatens. For Jesus to decide to GO THAT FAR was the ultimate sign to
the people who gathered around him to hear him preach. He was crazy. He
was revolutionary. He
wanted to change the world and make it a place where they could
live fully and honorably as human beings.
Here we are,
gathered around this table, knowing that our lives are deeply
enmeshed in the violence and oppression of this world in which we
live. We bring our
shepherd’s Spirit with us into that enmeshment, into the world
we’ve created. Our
standard of living is at the cost of monstrous poverty for the
some of the rest of the world.
Every time we get dressed, or drive our car, or go the
store, or eat or drink, we are contributing to some vast anonymous
system that keeps the poverty alive.
Are the people of Guatemala in poverty so we can pay 29
cents a pound for bananas?
We pollute our atmosphere, and even our own bodies.
And yet…at the same time… we are hearers of the
Word…our ears are open to the sound of the voice of our
shepherd. In that sound we
know who we are, whose we are.
We hear that voice and our real shepherd calls us by name
(as Shirley) as he glances over his shoulder calling us to follow
where he is leading us.
The world
doesn’t get it, cannot understand how our following after such a
crazy man could be a choice for us.
The world can’t hear his voice when he calls out to us by
our own names. The
world can’t quite understand this banquet that is spread before
us every time we gather. Our
heads are truly anointed with kindness, and the cup of our lives
overflows. Can you imagine what would happen if we truly DID
follow our shepherd’s lead? How powerful is this image of the
good shepherd?
This world could
not ignore a whole flock of people who follow their shepherd by
saying “No” to oppression and violence, by taking the side of
the victims around us. How
patent is the joy of the Good Shepherd?
The world cannot avoid a flock of people who are defending
the weak and helpless, who are speaking for those who have no
voice in our society, who are forgiving one another and loving one
another even when that love is hard to do.
How clear a call can we hear from the story of Jesus the
Good Shepherd? This world cannot ignore a community of baptized
people who are willing to put their time, talents, possessions,
and lives on the line. It
is through our role as shepherds in the world that we spill out
mercy, compassion and humanity in the name of our own shepherd,
the shepherd of Israel.