John 10:22-30
May 11, 2025
Some of you may remember the iconic
RCA Victor advertising image of the little black and white dog sitting very
still in front of the large bell of a gramophone, listening. The caption for
the advertisement read, “His Master’s Voice.” The original painting that
spurred the later advertisements, was of a real dog named Nipper who lived in
Britian in the late 19th century. There’s an interesting history
about Nipper and how the original painting came to be, but I’ll leave that for
you to research in your own time. Suffice it to say that the image of the
little dog, Nipper, listening to his master’s voice was everywhere – at least
that’s how I remember it. It was on RCA record labels, and it was recreated on
what we now as “merch.” It is an iconic image.
When I first moved to New York State
– a thousand years ago – I lived south of the capital, Albany, but served a
church on the north side of the city. So, I often had to drive into Albany, and
in an older neighborhood there was a building that must have once been an RCA
building, because sitting on its roof was Nipper! Well, it was a large
sculpture of Nipper, listening, even though there was no gramophone in front of
him. I started thinking of that building as somehow belonging to the dog, and I
drove by it every chance I could. My life was and is a pretty noisy affair most
days. It’s filled with a variety of voices and other sounds, music, television,
street noises, cars, sirens. And even when I’m quiet and have shut out the
sounds from the outside, it’s not necessarily quiet in my own head. My mind
feels like it is constantly whirring with worries and questions and to-do lists
and random trains of thought traveling in every direction. I find the picture
of the little dog listening to his master’s voice not only sweet but peaceful.
How wonderful it would be to focus so completely on that one voice, that one
sound, and not be distracted by every other sound and noise out there. I wish
that I had the ability to do that better, and I wish it because there is one
voice that I would very much love to hear more often, but it is a still, small
voice. It is a voice that often gets lost in the din of all the other voices. The
voice that I long to hear more clearly and more often is the voice of God. If
God still clearly speaks to people from the heavens or in burning bushes or
through prophets, then I’m not privy to it. Or maybe the voice of God is there,
but everything else in my life is so noisy, including all that’s happening in
my own head, that I just can’t hear it.
I can blame my inability to hear the
divine voice on all the noise in my life – external and internal. But what
about the people who confront Jesus in our passage from John’s gospel? What’s
their excuse? It was at the festival of Dedication and Jesus was walking in the
portico of Solomon. This was the area of the temple where the kings would sit
and issue decrees of justice. As Jesus
is walking, the religious authorities come to him and say,
“How
long will you keep us in suspense? If
you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.”
One
commentator writes that there are two ways to look at this question posed by
the people who confront Jesus. One is that this is a politically charged
question. The people questioning him may have been trying to give him enough
rope in a sense. If he answers that he is in fact the messiah, then they can
charge him with blasphemy. The second understanding of their question is that
these are people who just want to understand who Jesus is. They don’t ask this
question to trick or trap Jesus. They ask him because they want to understand,
they want to grasp his identity.
In
earlier verses it says that the people were divided over Jesus, so scholars
suggest it is reasonable to see both angles at play. But I think that what is
more important is how Jesus responds.
“I
have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name
testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep.
My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and
they follow me.”
My sheep hear my voice. The implication is
that if these folks really were believers, they would hear his voice. They
would have already figured it out. And Jesus makes it clear that his voice is
heard most loudly, most clearly in his works. He does works in his Father’s
name and those works testify to him. They testify to his identity. His works
proclaim beyond any words he might say that he is in fact the Messiah. The
passage then ends with Jesus saying, “The Father and I are one.”
Biblical
commentator Gail O’Day writes that the Greek that is translated as “one” in the
New Revised Standard Version is not speaking so much about Jesus and God being
one person or one essence or one being. Instead it means that the Father and
the Son are “united” together. Jesus’
works are united with his Father’s. When you see what Jesus does, you see what
God does. So, if you believe that Jesus and God are united, if you recognize
that Jesus’ works of grace and mercy and healing are God’s works, then you are
a believer and therefore you hear clearly hear Jesus’ voice. You are one of his
sheep. His sheep hear his voice. Anyone who doesn’t is not a believer. After
all, Jesus seems to say it plainly.
“You
do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep.”
But
what about those of us who believe and yet we struggle to hear his voice? What
about those of us who believe but also doubt, who wrestle with our faith? Does
this mean that we are on the outs, out of the fold, out of the flock?
Theologian
Debie Thomas has also struggled with this pronouncement from Jesus. She writes
that she could assume it does not apply to her because she is a cradle
believer, knows the bible, reads her prayers, engages in the liturgy, etc. And
yet there are many times when she struggles, struggles to hear the voice of
Jesus in a world that is not only noisy but violent, in a world where death
strikes down innocents and justice seems but a dream. Does that put her outside
of the fold just as I worry it does me? As Thomas wrote, Jesus’ words suggest
that belonging is predicated on believing, but in fact he is saying the
opposite. In Thomas’ words, “You struggle to believe because you don’t consent
to belong.” It isn’t the belief that comes first, it is the belonging.
“You
struggle to believe because you don’t consent to belong.”
Time
and again, Jesus has shown the people around him, including the religious
authorities, that he and the Father are one. The works that he does are
possible because he and God are united. But still people don’t believe because
they refuse to belong. They refuse to submit to the possibility that through
Jesus God is showing them a different way – to be, to live, to love. They
refuse to belong so they cannot begin to believe.
We
long to belong – to something, to someone. I don’t think there is a human in
this world who doesn’t want to belong somewhere, somehow. It seems to me that
Jesus is trying to tell those who question him that they choose to belong to
groups that give them power and groups that give them prestige, but they refuse
to belong to the One who gives them life. Belonging comes first and belief
follows. If we are willing to belong, we will find our way to belief.
In
a few minutes we will baptize baby Noelle. There are folks at different points
along the theological spectrum who argue with infant baptism, saying that it
must be a conscious choice on the part of the believer. I understand their
thinking. A baby cannot make that choice, so those who don’t support infant baptism
view it at worst as invalid, and at the least lacking in theological soundness.
My standard response to this argument is that the reason we baptize babies and
children is because we believe that God’s grace is alive and working in our
lives whether we know it or not, and baptism is the sign and seal of God’s
grace. I still unequivocally believe this to be true. But I also realize that
our baptism is also a profound act of belonging. In her baptism today, we know
that Noelle cannot make a profession of faith for herself. We know that she
cannot answer questions about scripture or tell us in ten words or less why she
believes, why she loves Jesus.
But
what we do in this moment is tell her, even though she cannot understand it on
an intellectual level yet, that she belongs. She belongs to her family, she
belongs to this family, she belongs to the Church Universal, she belongs, most
importantly to God. She is a child of God and a child of the covenant, and she
belongs. Belief will come, and all the struggles and the joys that come with
it. But she belongs. So do we all. Wherever you are on this day with your
faith, whether you are struggling or doubting or wrestling or resting, you
belong. That still, small voice is speaking, calling us to come into the fold,
to trust, to allow ourselves to belong to the One who is our Shepherd. We
belong. Belief will come. But we belong and that makes all the difference.
Thanks be to God.
Let
all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”
Amen.
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