Do we have to be the sheep?

Scripture: John 10:11-18

Preached 04/26/2015

I’m just going to come out and admit it. I have never really liked this scripture passage. I don’t want to be a sheep. I never have, so I’ve always struggled with this scripture passage, even though it’s one of the most beloved images of Jesus in scripture, even though we, like many other congregations, have it immortalized in our beautiful stained glass. I like Jesus the shepherd, caring and guiding, protecting and saving. But I don’t like being a sheep.

Now, I was born and raised in Iowa, but not on a farm, and my main experience with sheep has been in petting zoos. And they’re cute and all, but from what I’ve read, sheep are also not the smartest animals around. They’ll follow each other right off the edge of a cliff, lemming style. They won’t drink from moving water because they’re afraid of it. They’re largely defenseless, which is why they need that shepherd with his or her club to defend their many natural predators. And also, they’re kind of smelly and wool is itchy.

From what I read and researched this week, I’m not the only one who isn’t super-excited about being a sheep. Over and over again, theologians and commentators skipped right over the whole Jesus the shepherd, everyone else the sheep issue, and just decided that what this passage was actually saying was that we were supposed to be little shepherds too, and some other people were supposed to be the sheep. And I wanted to go along with that, because it makes this whole passage easier to deal with, and nicer to talk about. But unfortunately, try as I might, I just couldn’t read anywhere in this passage an instruction to take Jesus’ job, a promotion for some of us out of the ranks of sheep and into shepherd, or even a hint that Jesus wanted some help with his shepherding duties.

I am the Good Shepherd, he says. Twice, in fact, in verse 11 and then again in verse 14. Jesus is the Good Shepherd, not us. If you notice, Jesus gives us a warning about what happens when someone else attempts to nudge their way into the leadership position of the sheepfold- the hired hands. It doesn’t turn out well for us sheep. We get scattered and killed by wolves, in fact, so unless we want our brothers and sisters to succumb to that fate, we best remember our place in this metaphor- we’re the sheep.

My guess is that I’m not the only one who doesn’t have extensive experience with sheep, which makes our quest to understand this scripture a little tricky, right. Okay, so Jesus is the shepherd, and we’re the sheep, but why does that actually matter? What does it actually mean? Does it offer us more than a little bit of cuddly comfort on a Sunday morning? To answer the last question first, yes, there is more than a cuddly comforting image in this scripture passage. And to answer the other questions more fully, let’s take a deeper look at the very thing I’ve wanted to resist for so long- the sheep.

After Googling my way down several internet rabbit holes, let me save you all some trouble and say there is a LOT we can all learn about sheep. But the thing that is the most important for us to know is already laid out in our scripture reading. “¹⁴I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, ^{… 16}I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice.” Sheep, though they may not be the most intelligent animals ever, though they may deserve their reputation for being stubborn and willful, have a remarkable ability to learn and respond to a human voice. In particular, the voice of their own shepherd, which they can differentiate from all other voices.

In ancient times, sheep spent their days outside in a large mixed fold, grazing with sheep who belonged to many different shepherds. In the evening, they were separated out into the individual sheep folds that belonged to each shepherd. This was accomplished not by marking the sheep or knowing them by sight, but by each shepherd calling his or her own sheep, who would then follow the shepherd along to the individual flock sized pen where they would spend their night guarded by the shepherd. This practice continues to the present day. In some Middle Eastern cities, it is common to see sheep following a shepherd through the twists and turns of packed streets to get to and from their grazing place. They know the shepherd, and the shepherd knows them. And they follow the one whom they know.

So, if you, like me, were looking for some guidance in living from this passage, here it is. Know your shepherd. Follow your shepherd, and your shepherd only. And, just a warning, it may not be quite as easy as it sounds to do this. Because we, like the ancient readers of this text, live in a world where many, many others compete to be our shepherd.

Shepherds are those we allow to lead us, whose voices we listen to and follow. And now, like in Jesus time, there are a lot of voices competing to lead us. Jesus said he was different from those other voices because of the kind of leader he was. He was the good shepherd, as opposed to the hired hands, who were very different kinds of leaders. The Good Shepherd reading we have this morning is from John, and in John, Jesus is in almost constant conflict with the elite Judean leadership. These leaders- the non-Good Shepherd ones- were concerned with one main thing in their leadership. Keeping the hierarchical structure of society intact. They were the educated elite the top of the pyramid, and they wanted to keep it that way, even though it meant that others were so impoverished that they didn’t have enough to eat, and couldn’t even get access to basic health care.

Jesus comes into conflict with them again and again as he speaks out against their injustice, their hoarding of wealth, their disregard for those who aren’t rich and educated like them, and their claim to follow God while doing this. And Jesus acts against them too, including all those people they didn’t think were good enough for access to the same privileges they enjoyed in his ministry. Feeding them. Healing them. Removing barriers for their full inclusion in society, and living out God’s love for them. Leading them all into abundant life, as Jesus tells us is the whole point of his life and ministry, just a verse before out reading picked up today.

And in John, this is what gets him killed- his work for abundant life for all. Those with privilege were so afraid of the structures of oppression he was trying to break down that they killed him to stop the inclusive justice he was trying to create. Jesus knew where his ministry was heading. He knew what the leaders were going to do to him. And that didn’t stop him. He was willing to lay his life down for the sheep, no matter what, even though it meant his own death. The others who attempted to lead were not willing to do such a thing- their self-preservation came first.

So whose voice are we going to follow today? Sadly, we haven’t really come that far from the unjust hierarchical society of Jesus’ time. We still have “leaders” who tell us that for our own self-preservation, the lives of others have to be sacrificed, that we certainly can’t feed hungry people, or give health care access to the sick. And people who cross certain boundaries have to be excluded, because they’re not good enough to get the privileges that others enjoy. And of course, on top of it all we have to be very, very frightened of what those others might do to us or take from us.

They don’t speak in our Good Shepherd’s voice, though they do their best to play on our primal fears and lure us away. Our Good Shepherd is willing to lay down his life, to care and love beyond boundaries, to provide extravagantly for all, even those sheep we definitely don’t see in our own pastures, and those sheep who might make us nervous should they show up in the same fold. Because to him, there is no such thing as the “other,” for his flock is so much bigger and inclusive than we can ever dream.

Jesus is our Good Shepherd, and we are his sheep. He knows us, and our charge is to know him. To listen to and heed his voice. We are being led, whether we like it or not. The good news in this passage is that we have a choice about who leads us- the Good Shepherd or the hired hands. So listen very closely to the voice of those who seek to lead you- the politicians, the advertisers, even the friends and family. Do you hear fear mongering? The message that there is not enough? An insistence on excluding others? Or do you hear love? Extravagance? Care for the needs of all? A willingness for self-sacrifice on the behalf of others? Know your shepherd, and follow only him, and he will lead you to the way of abundant, eternal life. Amen.

A Story Worth Remembering

Scripture: John 10:11-18

Preached 04/19/2015

She met the risen Christ at a cramped kitchen table in North Carolina. Miss Willa Mae Mashburn’s kitchen table, to be exact.  Chelsey, along the seven others on the work crew, had traveled to Miss Mashburn’s home to install a wheelchair ramp on what had been a sagging and dangerous porch.  Before Chelsey and the others began their journey from St. Louis to North Carolina, they had been given loads of instructions on ways to avoid imposing on the woman they were going to serve.  Bring your own food, eat under a tree, use a porta-potty to avoid running up the water bill, don’t create more of a mess than you can clean up. And so on.

So on that first day, when Chelsey and the others were a mess of dirt, sweat, paint, and sawdust from their work on the porch, and full to the brim of those instructions to avoid imposing, they weren’t quite sure how to respond when Miss Mashburn invited them in for a lunch she had cooked for them all. So, they said yes. And all of them- that’s nine including Miss Mashburn, gathered around a small kitchen table in the middle of a tiny kitchen, rubbing elbows, spreading dirt, and listening to the stories Miss Mashburn had to tell.

And she was full of stories. She told them how her husband had built the home with his own hands, and how it once bustled full of children, friends, and nearly burst at the seams with love. About the day they installed indoor plumbing, long after the four children had been born. She told them about the interesting patchwork of repairs they saw on the porch, and how they’d kept it going, though sagging to one side, for years. Now, with her children far away and her husband deceased, Miss Mashburn found it hard to keep up with the maintenance of the home. Mr. Mashburn had always taken care of all that, she said, almost wistfully.

They thought the lunch was over, so they got up to head back to work, but Miss Mashburn sat them right back down. She squeezed behind the chairs to the old, avocado green refrigerator and opened the door, and then produced a cheesecake. She sliced it and served it to them. And in that moment, Chelsey’s eyes were opened, and she recognized the risen Christ at the table with her. She knew it immediately; felt it instantly; recognized it fully. The risen Christ was there. Right there.

It’s a moment that feels almost magical in the scripture reading. All of a sudden, even though they had been hanging out with him a good chunk of the day, the disciples recognize the risen Christ sitting at the table with them. I don’t know about you, but this story- this sudden recognition after the road to Emmaus- always surprises me. It always These were people who knew the living Jesus. Why in the world didn’t they recognize the resurrected one sooner?

I mean, I’d like to think I would have caught on before that bread-breaking moment. You know- “Hey Cleopas, doesn’t that guy look exactly like Jesus except for those crucifixion scars he’s rocking?”  Or maybe “Hi Jesus! Whatcha doing out here? Aren’t you supposed to be in a tomb somewhere?” Or maybe just simply “Hey! You’re not dead! You really got me there!”

And as surprised as I always am, and as confident as I always am about my own Jesus-recognizing ability, I have to admit that there’s also a spooky element to this story. I’ve already said it and I’ll say it again. There were men who knew Jesus. And they didn’t even recognize him, right beside them, right in front of them. So I suppose the question that’s really most interesting for the morning is how did they not see him, but how in the world are we, people born thousands of years after Christ died, how are we ever supposed to recognize the risen Christ?

There’s a part in this story that our Spark Story Bible translation kind of glosses over, and really even Luke’s translation makes it difficult to notice, but it’s crucial for us, so I’m going to go back and read it from the Luke, rather than the Spark text. This comes after Jesus and the disciples have been walking together all day. “²⁸As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. ²⁹But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.”

He walked ahead as if he were going on, and they urged him to stay with them. It’s a small, quiet moment. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, at first. But that moment is the turning point of the whole story. Without that invitation- given to a man who, even though he was Jesus, was a stranger to them at that point- they never would have known they’d met the risen Christ. This story never would have made it into the gospel, because it would just be some guys walking down the road, and that’s hardly the kind of story you keep going for thousands of years, that’ you’d put in your Gospel, that we’d read and talk about in church so much. Cleopas and the other disciple probably wouldn’t even remember it a few years later, let alone us, thousands of years removed.

But Jesus walked ahead as if he were going on, and they invited him to stay. That must have been quite a moment for Jesus. He was their teacher, after all, and here were his students, who had just stumbled and perhaps failed their “understanding of what Jesus kept telling us about the resurrection” exam. But this- this invitation to stay and break bread with them extended to a stranger- this is the disciples getting it just right.

Because, you remember of course that this is so much of what Jesus did. Yes, breaking bread with others- with sinners, tax-collectors, Pharisees, and prostitutes. Challenging the societal norm of segregating ourselves only to those who look like us, think like us, and have the same amount of money as us. Breaking bread, but also breaking boundaries. Going past that place where you are expected to go, and discovering Christ on the other side.

There’s a scene we can imagine here, that no one ever saw. Miss Mashburn in her kitchen, baking a cheesecake. Stirring up the filling, jiggling it in the oven, lovingly spooning the cherries over the top. She didn’t know Chelsey. She didn’t know any of that crew that was coming to work on her porch. She didn’t owe any of them a thing. All she was expected to do was let them work on her home. And she decided to sit down and have a meal with them. And then she decided to bake them a cheesecake. And because of her loving gesture that went so far beyond what was required of her, Chelsey was able to recognize that the risen Christ was there.

The disciples, even though they knew the living Jesus, didn’t know they knew the resurrected one. They didn’t owe anything to this man, who had just walked up alongside them and honestly been pretty rude to them in their grief and confusion. But they decided to invite him to stay, and to have a meal with them too. And the risen Christ was there, and because of that turning point, that going beyond what they had to do, they were able to recognize that the risen Christ was there.

I would bet that many of you, too have stories about meeting the risen Christ in one way or another- in a hospital room, class room, around a table, or during some kind of mission work. And while those stories are important and I encourage you to share them, what’s even more important is that you keep seeking out more of those stories. Not heard, but experienced, lived. You, inter, ntionally setting out to meet and recognize the risen Christ around you. And while you’re out there looking to meet him, acting like you already know him.

Going that extra step mile, that extra meal, that extra person. Inviting someone different to join you, listening to their story, learning from their wisdom. Extending hospitality far beyond the bare minimum, really welcoming the stranger. It might look like buying the homeless person a meal instead of avoiding their eyes next time you see them. Or maybe sitting down with them at Room at the Inn the next time we host. It might look like delivering food to Isaiah or Feed My People, and even volunteering to stay and help do more. Or having a real conversation- not about the weather or the Cardinals with someone who sits in a different pew- or a neighbor, or a co-worker. It might look like accepting an invitation to join someone, or try something, new. It might look like a cheesecake, lovingly prepared and sliced for people you hardly know.

There isn’t a magic formula for encountering and knowing the risen Christ. Sometimes, the ways you try to go beyond the minimum will indeed make your heart burn with joy in you. And other times, you may struggle to recognize Christ at all, even if he is right with you.

We remember this story of the road to Emmaus because two men went a bit extended an invitation to a stranger. Chelsey remembers her story because she accepted such an invitation. Why will other remember yours? Make it so. Amen.

*Many thanks to Chelsey Hillyer for the story and inspiration for this sermon! All credit for anything related to Miss Mashburn is hers, not my own, and much of the material of the sermon either comes from or is inspired by a sermon she preached*