Abiding in Love -- Fourth Sunday of Easter

 

John 10:11-18

April 25, 2021

Phoebe’s first professional baby photograph was taken was taken with a lamb. I’m not kidding – a lamb. There was a photography studio in Albany, New York called the Country Studio. Every spring they would adopt lambs to use in pictures with kids. It was an incredible experience walking into that studio at that time of year. Lambs were everywhere. It was a big farmhouse, and I remember coming in and seeing one lamb at the top of the stairs in diapers, bleating happily, and another was being fed a bottle by someone who worked there. There were still more lambs wandering around the main waiting area, as well as in the backyard. Between the sound of the lambs bleating and the children crying or laughing or complaining about getting their picture taken, it was a rather noisy and chaotic place. 

When I made the appointment to have Phoebe’s picture taken, I knew about the studio using lambs. But as Phoebe was only three months old at the time, I didn’t really expect them to use one with her. Yet in the photographer came with a little lamb and put Phoebe and the lamb into this white cradle together. I remember calling my mom that night and telling her about Phoebe getting her picture taken with a lamb. My mom thought that was sweet, but I could tell she didn’t understand or believe that it was a real lamb; thinking I meant Phoebe had her picture taken with just a sweet stuffed animal. But I assured her that this lamb was very cute, yes, but also very real.

Lambs are cute. Like any baby – animal, person or otherwise – there is something sweet and endearing about them. But like any baby – animal, person or otherwise – they grow up. And lambs, as we all know, grow up to be sheep. And sheep, while I have nothing against them personally, aren’t as cute. They’re certainly practical animals. Functional. Useful. But cute? I wouldn’t go so far as to say that sheep are cute. Seeing them on a hillside as we drive into Pulaski, I think they make for a pastoral scene. But I’m still not convinced that they are cute. Sheep are also not the brightest of animals. They are willful. They are stubborn. They desperately need a shepherd; someone who keeps them out of trouble, who prevents them from getting hurt or lost.

And in our culture, it is not a compliment to be called a sheep. To be called a sheep means to blindly follow, to not use our intellect or critical thinking. The adjective, “sheep” has been thrown around a lot this past year. You’re a sheep if you do this, or a sheep if you don’t do that. I can’t imagine that any of us would willingly choose to be called a sheep. I don’t want to be called a sheep.

Yet, we come to this day, this fourth Sunday in Eastertide, and we celebrate it as Good Shepherd Sunday. No matter what the year, no matter what the focus of our scripture reading and preaching lectionary, this Sunday is always Good Shepherd Sunday. For me, personally, that means that I have preached on some aspect of the tenth chapter of the gospel of John approximately 25 times, give or take a year or two.  

So, if we are regular churchgoers, this language about Jesus as our Good Shepherd is familiar, overly familiar. And even if we have not heard sermon after sermon on the Good Shepherd, the imagery of those words is everywhere in our churches. I grew up with pictures of a sweetly smiling Jesus, depicted as a person who was clearly not of Middle Eastern descent, carrying a pure white, precious lamb across his shoulders. Phoebe’s first baby picture with a little lamb depicts that level of sweetness and serenity.

And what about Jesus himself? Jesus as our Good Shepherd is comfort and contentment and safety and protection. Our understanding of Jesus as Good Shepherd is part of the foundation of our whole belief system. Jesus is our Good Shepherd. The One who will leave the 99 other sheep to find the lost 1. He is the One who acts as the Gate, who keeps the wolves at bay. He calls us together into one flock. He protects us, watches over us, and lays down his life for us. This is all beautiful and lovely, and I am not trying to diminish that. But as with anything that we hear over and over again, as with anything this is familiar, the punch that these words originally packed has been domesticated. The surprise and original twist of these words, the way the first listeners would have heard them, has been lost on us. What is it that we have lost in translation?

We hear these words about Jesus as the Good Shepherd as comfort and light. But they would have angered the religious authorities. They would have pushed a lot of buttons. This passage follows on the story of Jesus healing the blind man. This was a healing that so vexed the religious authorities that the man who was healed was driven out of the synagogue – for being healed – by Jesus. Now Jesus makes the claim that he is the Good Shepherd, and by the end of this tenth chapter, he will be rejected by the authorities. They do not like what Jesus is doing, and they do not like what he is saying – about himself and in turn about God. And I don’t think they like what he is saying about the sheep either.

So, while we have embraced Good Shepherd imagery, the pastoral, the idea of congregations as being flocks and the minister is the pastor, something about Jesus’ description of himself makes people in his context angry and increases his level of threat.

I cannot say that I fully understand why this would make those in power so angry. But from what I have read, I have some guesses. Shepherds were not in the upper echelons of that society. Their entire lives were spent outside of the confines of society. They roamed the fields with their flocks. They probably smelled like their flocks. There was no great status in being a shepherd. But Jesus not only identifies with the shepherd, but he also says he is the Good Shepherd.

He says that he is the Good Shepherd who will keep the wolves away from the sheep. He says that he is the Shepherd who also acts as the Gate. He keeps the predators out and the flock in. He says that he is the Shepherd who has many sheep, sheep not from this pasture. There are other sheep who will hear his voice, who will know him, who will follow him. He is the Shepherd who is willing to go after the lost, the forgotten, the abandoned.

And who has Jesus “gone after” so far? He has gone after the outcast and the outsider. He has gone after the sinners, the weak, the rejected. He is the Shepherd who will lay down his life for his flock. Remember, this is John’s gospel and John is about metaphor and meaning upon layer of meaning. Jesus in John’s gospel knows what the authorities are up to. He knows what they are planning. He knows what they think of him and what they fear from him. And he is telling them that even if they kill the shepherd, they cannot disperse this flock that he is gathering together. He will lay down his life for his sheep, and the wolves and the bandits and the hired hands will not win!

This is high drama, people! This is not just a chapter of lovely sentiments and pastoral pronouncements. This is Jesus not necessarily going to battle with the religious authorities, but not backing down in the face of them either. He is telling them who he is – the Good Shepherd. In many ways, he is laying his cards out before them, unflinchingly, unwaveringly. He knows where this will end, and he says it anyway. He does it anyway.

So, what does this mean for us? Now? In 2021? What does it mean for us to claim Jesus as our Good Shepherd, to abide in his love, as we read in First John?

As I said last week, there are many ways to answer this, many possible conclusions. Jesus not only tells those who would hear that he was and is the Good Shepherd, he shows them what that means. He was not merely speaking metaphorically when he said that the shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. He did it. He gave himself over to be crucified. Judas may have betrayed him, but Jesus walked out of that garden. Jesus turned himself in. He laid down his life for them and for us. He proved his claim to be the Good Shepherd was true – in word and deed.

And maybe that is what we need to hear this week and next week and in every day and week and month to come. Jesus proved he was the Good Shepherd. He was willing to die for the sake of love, love for God, love for the sheep gathered around him, love for all the sheep not yet in the fold. That includes us. So, maybe, we need to acknowledge that we are indeed sheep. I don’t mean that in the insulting way it is too often hurled nowadays. But I don’t mean it as a compliment either.

We are sheep. We are willful, stubborn, resistant to the One who longs to lead us. We seek our own way, and we get lost. I get lost, time and time again. We are sheep, not because we don’t have minds of our own, or sharp intellects, or critical thinking skills, but because we think, we believe, that we have everything under control. We too easily wander off distracted, thinking we don’t need others, thinking we don’t need a shepherd.

Just recently I saw a short video of a young man, probably a modern-day shepherd, trying to get a sheep who had wandered into a fissure between two stones. The sheep was stuck tight, and the shepherd had to pull at the little guy’s legs to finally get it unstuck. Whoever posted the video made a reference to the Good Shepherd going after the lost one, and that he felt like this young boy trying to rescue a stubborn sheep. When I watched it, I thought, “I’m not the shepherd. I’m the sheep.”

How many times have I wandered away, following an idol of my own making? How many times have I gotten stuck, needed rescue, but didn’t know how to ask for help? How many times has that happened to you?

Maybe what we need to do today is acknowledge that we are sheep, sheep who need a shepherd, a Good Shepherd. And through nothing we have done to earn it or deserve it, we have one. We have a Good Shepherd, who came into this gritty world, into this muddy pasture, who willingly got dirty, muddy, bloody, for the sake of Love: Love of God, Love for God’s creation, Love for God’s creatures – all of God’s sheep. That includes us. May we abide in this Love, this good and shepherding love.

Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia!”

Amen.