Sermon for SMHP, Year C, Easter 4, May 12, 2019
John 10:22-30
22At that time the festival of the Dedication took place
in Jerusalem. It was winter, 23and
Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. 24So the Jews gathered around him and said
to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us
plainly.”
25Jesus
answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my
Father’s name testify to me; 26but
you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. 27My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and
they follow me. 28I give them
eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my
hand. 29What my Father has given
me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand.
30The Father and I are one.”
From 1974 to
1979, my family lived in this house in Savannah, Georgia. It’s a great house, made even greater by its
location. Behind us was a street that
had been subdivided into lots, but no houses had been built there yet. So it was all woods, leading to a beautiful
salt marsh.
In front of
our house was an island, a pretty big one as those things go. So all of the kids in the neighborhood
congregated there. We played hide and
seek, and Ghost in the Graveyard. We
pretended to be detectives, or spies. Or
Charlie’s Angels. I was Sabrina, because
that’s the only one I could pull off.
The general
rule was that we kids had to go in when the street lights came on. But occasionally--and more often around this
time of year, when the days grow long—our moms would come out and call us to
come in.
Parents were
more hands off back then. At least ours
were. In our little corner of Savannah,
a subdivision with the mythical name, Windsor Forest (Go Knights!), there was
safety. In the summertime, I left the
house in the morning with a sack lunch and a first aid kit—yes, I was a
ten-year-old with a first aid kit—and I might not be home until those street
lights came on.
But closer to
dinnertime, I stuck close to home.
Because God help you if your mom stepped out the front door and called
your name. You had about two minutes to
get your caboose into your house, before you were in deep trouble.
We all learned
to listen for our own moms. The kids who
lived further away couldn’t always make out their own names…but they knew their
moms’ voices. Occasionally dads, or
siblings, called. But it was almost
always mom. Calling you to wash up and
sit down at the table with the rest of the family, because we really did live
in that kind of idyllic world where families ate together at night.
Where your
mom’s voice summoned you to come home. Like
a shepherd calls to his, or her, or their sheep.
The
relationship between sheep and their shepherd is unique in animal
husbandry. The shepherd leads the sheep
across hills and valleys for the sake of good health and safety. Theirs is a relationship of accompaniment and
trust, which is why you find shepherds lifted up as models so often in
scripture. From one of the oldest texts
in the biblical canon, the 23rd Psalm, to the story of King David,
to the birth narrative, parables and teachings of Jesus, shepherds are offered
as exemplars of faithfulness and trustworthiness.
Just as we each
recognized the sound of our own mother’s voices while we were deep at play,
sheep recognize the voice of their
masters. [show video if possible: https://youtu.be/e45dVgWgV64]
When Jesus
said “My sheep hear my voice,” he was speaking to an audience who knew what he
meant. [Slide 2] I took this photo on a
hill just outside of Jerusalem. Even the
folks who lived in Jerusalem would have seen shepherds at some point. They make a potent image—faithful folks who
live on the margins. Just one more bit
of proof that Jesus was the first theologian of liberation.
The image of
shepherd is one of relationship. The
sheep learn to trust the shepherd, because the shepherd is trustworthy. The shepherd feeds them, protects them from
wolves and other predators, and rescues them when they get lost.
In return, the
sheep listen and obey the shepherd’s voice.
When Jesus uses this image, he has in mind a particular sort of
relationship: that of the disciple to
the teacher.
The primary
task of Christian discipleship is to learn to recognize Jesus’ voice.
Sounds simple
enough, right?
Yeah, not so
much. Look around you. How many interpretations can we find for the
voice of the Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ?
I have heard so-called “Christian prophecy” that I recognize as neither
Christian nor prophetic. And I know I
talk about this a lot, but honestly, there is no greater danger to the church
and the faith than the ubiquitous false prophecy calling upon us to close
our borders and arm our teachers.
Because people who are still learning to hear Jesus’ voice are learning
to follow false prophets and illegitimate doctrine.
Just as they
were in the time of Jesus which is why we have this and many other stories of
him drawing a distinction between his disciples and those who hear another
word.
So how do we
accomplish the primary task of discipleship?
How do we learn to recognize the voice of Jesus amidst the cacophony of
other calls?
·
We
listen for it. Sounds obvious, but in
addition to a lot of false doctrine in the world these days, there’s just a lot
of noise. We need to slow down, make
some space to hear our Lord’s voice.
·
We
need to study what his voice sounds like.
Read the Bible. Learn what is of
Jesus and what is not.
·
In
particular, we need to learn the values at the center of our Christian
faith. What are some of those values? [inclusivity, love of neighbor, sacrificial
love]
Luther taught
us that all of scripture, and indeed all of our life as Christian believers, was
founded upon an understanding of Jesus and his teachings. Discipleship depends upon our ability to know
the voice of our shepherd, and to come when he calls us.
Once we have
mastered that, we are ready to move beyond knowing his voice to being
his voice. One of the ways we follow our
Good Shepherd is to lead other sheep—to help them learn to recognize the voice
of their Shepherd.
Rachel Held
Evans did that for thousands of Christians who were clinging to faith by their
fingernails. And thousands more like me,
who just wished they could say stuff about the gospel as well as she did.
Rachel grew up
in a narrow evangelicalism which veered further and further from gospel truth,
until she nearly lost her faith. Then
she left it behind for a life of writing and speaking in the shepherd’s
voice. [Slide] Her best quotes, I
believe, were about the purpose of the church.
In her book, “Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the
Church,” she wrote, “[T]he gospel
doesn't need a coalition devoted to keeping the wrong people out. It needs a
family of sinners, saved by grace, committed to tearing down the walls,
throwing open the doors, and shouting, ‘Welcome! There's bread and wine. Come
eat with us and talk.’ This isn't a kingdom for the worthy; it's a kingdom for
the hungry.”
This
isn’t a kingdom for the worthy; it’s a kingdom for the hungry. That is the voice of Jesus, speaking through
a mature disciple who learned to hear his voice, at first in spite of
the church, and then because of it.
Run next two slides while speaking.
People
of hope and peace, we must work to be that community. As individuals, we must listen for our Lord’s
voice, learn his values and his teachings, and then invite others to come and
eat with us and talk. So that they may
learn too. It is our calling as
disciples, sheep of the good shepherd.
The call to hear his voice and then to be it, as Rachel was.
Rachel
Held Evans died a week ago, of acute brain swelling brought on by a freak
reaction to antibiotics. She was
thirty-seven years old. Her absence
leaves a hole in many hearts, most particularly those of her parents, her husband, Dan, and her two
small children. They are devastated.
And they are
joined by so many who heard the call of the Good Shepherd through her. So many who admit that their faith would have
turned to dust, except that they heard Rachel speak of similar experiences. She had more to say—that is without
question.
Who will say
it for her?
Who will be The Shepherd’s Voice?
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