Wednesday, May 15, 2019

Sermon - Easter 4C - Jesus is calling "come home"

4th Sunday in Eastertide, Year C                                 May, 12, 2019
John 10:22-30                                       Panzer Liturgical Service

Raise your hand if you have seen a sheep in the last 10 days. My guess is that many of us see sheep often, at least more often than we would if living in the US. Our village is in the country, and
we have a shepherd. I’m guessing his flock numbers about 100. You can often see them grazing in one of the many fields surrounding town, penned in by a portable fence which could probably be breached if the sheep gave it a thought or two.

But if you take the time to sit and watch, you will see something pretty magical. The lone shepherd can control the whole herd with the sound of his voice and single herding dog. I have sat for long stretches of time watching. The sheep just eat whatever is in their path, very helpful for hills and fields hard to manage with a tractor or mower. But as sheep will, eventually they will stray too far from the approved area, and with just the sound of his voice and his trusted helper, the shepherd can bring them back into the fold.

Likewise, when it is time to move on to a new location or go home for the night, the shepherd gives a voice command and walks away. Like magic, the sheep follow. They know the sound of his voice and they follow, with the dog encouraging any stragglers from the rear. This sets the scene for today’s lesson.

I don’t know if you noticed, but during Eastertide, we read from the Acts of the Apostles instead of the Old Testament. And until today, we have encountered a post-resurrection Jesus in John’s gospel. In the Synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark & Luke, we encounter a very human Jesus. While mysterious in the way of past civilizations, we can at least relate to the worries and wanderings of Jesus and his motley crew.

But in John’s gospel, we move to a whole new plane. Written as many as 50 years after the other gospels, the stories and theology of his ministry have matured and incorporate new dimensions. In John’s gospel, Jesus is more other-worldly, events and conversations have multiple layers. What looked plain and simple before is more nuanced, and we are constantly surprised at the Jesus we see. 
On the Fourth Sunday of Eastertide, we stay with the gospel of John, but now, looking back to before the crucifixion, we hear Jesus’ words with resurrection ears. At Solomon’s Portico, the place where Jewish kings would have rendered judgment, some Jewish authorities following Jesus try to pin him to the wall.

In short, they say, “Don’t beat around the bush… tell us plainly – are you the Messiah, the Christ, the Promised One, or not… don’t waste our time – if there is someone else, then you are not worth our time.” Of course, Jesus does not take the bait. In fact, he puts himself in a more precarious position by egging them on.

Jesus replied to them, “You keep asking who I am and I keep showing you and telling you but you don't want to believe what you are seeing and hearing because it's not what you want to hear. The people who listen to my voice and recognize the truth are they are the ones who follow me. They will get the ultimate gift and there's nothing that you can do to stop it.”

In this passage, Jesus once again redefines Messiah. Jews have been expecting a great King like David, a warrior and slayer of enemies. But that is not who Jesus is. Jesus is the Good Shepherd, the one who gathers his flocks with his voice - the one who cares for the outliers, who looks for The Lost ones, welcoming all willing to follow him.

I'm pretty sure that Jesus’ willingness to hang out with “the wrong people” drove the Jewish leaders crazy… their position was always, “outsiders need not apply.” Jesus’ message was different – not one of power, but one of love. And he preached that message to everyone who would listen, no matter who they were, especially those misfit disciples and friends.

It's no wonder that the unlovable are the ones who heard Jesus first. They were the ones that were most desperate for the power of the message Jesus had to share. Without wealth, position or power, they were outcasts, the sick, the poor. Maybe for the first time, they heard that their lives were worth something. And that they had something to contribute, to be a part of something bigger than their pain.

This is exactly what got Jesus killed.  The Jewish authorities who questioned Jesus didn't want something new and different. They wanted what they expected, what they were promised.  They wanted retaliation for all the harm done to them. And when it became evident that that is not what Jesus would give them, they tried to make sure that he would not give anyone anything. Looking at this from a post-Easter perspective, we can see how ludicrous that really was.

This image of the Good Shepherd is one of affectionate call and response, rather than one of power and might. Jesus was constantly asking people to trust him, to follow him. He was saying, “You belong to me. You can't be taken away by anyone - no one can snatch you from my hand or tell you otherwise.” This is our security, for sure.

Because of our confidence in God’s love for us, we can be assured that we are not just connected to Jesus, but also connected to all who follow him, who love him and have committed their lives to him. Jesus said, “I have come so that they could have life - so that they could live life to the fullest” (John 10:10). This gives flesh to the bones of the proclamation: Jesus is the resurrection and the life.
Many other voices compete for our attention and affection. They threaten to drown out this simple message of love, hope and peace.  Our job is to focus in on the voice that tells us we are loved for who we are. Our place in Jesus’ flock is secured, not by the things we do to earn this love, but through our willingness to live this love in all we do and say.

I’ve been leading confirmation classes since 1992. In the beginning, it was about understanding church membership. But over the years, I have realized that it has to about something more. Making a public profession of faith is about more than membership – it’s about committing our lives to something bigger than creeds or doctrines or church laws. Our confirmation class of 12 come from various traditions, with many and even competing church rules and regulations. Fortunately, this has freed us up to talk about the really important stuff.

Like: What does it mean to be a child of God? What does the Lord require of us if we are going to follow his voice? We are learning and relearning what it means to be a part of big “C” Church. We are being reminded that this journey is not just about our personal development and growth, but about how we put those things to use in the Kingdom of God. And we are regularly talking about how our commitment to God is not our way of gaining entrance into heaven or avoiding a more painful outcome. It is our way of living gratefully in response to how much Jesus loves us and figuring out how we can reflect that love as we live every day.

The time that we spend trying to climb up to God is really wasted time. Instead, we have to acknowledge that we are totally dependent on God climbing down to us. That’s what God did for us in the person of Jesus. When Jesus calls himself our shepherd, he is telling us that he is the one who will look for us when we are lost and have wandered away. He is the one who brings us back to the fold, saying, “Hey. let’s give this another try.”

Last weekend, author Rachel Held Evans, a 37-Year old recovering evangelical writer died. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say she was one of the great religious minds of this century. Raised in a conservative evangelical tradition filled with bible drills and purity pledges, she took her faith seriously enough to ask difficult questions, which earned her the scorn of evangelical authorities and the gratitude of millions of readers, to whom she gave permission to begin asking questions they had never spoken aloud. After years of trying to seek change within her own faith community, she finally gave up. She became one us – a liturgical – specifically an Episcopalian.

She wrote hundreds of blog posts and Twitter conversations, but only four books, and I grieve for the words that will never come. Each is worthy of a good read. But I believe her books Searching for Sunday and Inspired will leave lasting marks on those who want to give up on Church but somehow feel compelled to give it at least one more try. She talked a lot about the Church’s need to welcome all, love all, and be accountable together.

In her Searching For Sunday chapter, “Dirty Laundry”, she wrote about why she loves the prayer of confession so much.
These brave prayers are just the start. Like the introductions at an AA meeting, they equalize us. They remind us that we all move through the world in the same state - broken and beloved - and that we're all in need of healing and grace. They embolden us to confess to one another not only our sins, but also our fears, our doubts, our questions, our injuries, and our pain. They give us permission to start telling one another the truth, and to believe that this strange way of living is the only way to set one another free. 
Those Jewish leaders who questioned Jesus were looking for someone to bring order and discipline to the world in which they lived. But what if that’s not what Jesus came to do? The Good Shepherd says, “Come home… there is a place for you here.”

So here’s the question I leave you with today: What do we do with that?

Prayer: Lord Jesus, having searched for and then found us, having sought for and then spoken to us, having moved us by your grace to respond to your reaching out, now we are bold to pray that you will keep us in your care. Stick with us, Lord. Even when we disappoint you and stray away, keep us close. We are grateful that it is your nature to forgive, to keep working with those for whom you died, to keep returning to us, even when we would turn away from you. We confess that we are totally dependent on your grace to carry us through. Keep us close, Lord, that having spoken for us, you might preserve and keep us, now and always (Willimon).  Amen. 

Peace, Deb

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Resources: 
Will Willimon, “We Are Spoken For,” Pulpit Resource, Vol 47 No 2 Year C, pp 18-20.
Rachel Held Evan, Searching For Sunday, Chapter 9, “Dirty Laundry.” Thomas Nelson Press, Nashville, 2015
Also see Elizabeth Johnson, Preach This Week, April 17, 2016 http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2813
David S. Sellery, This Week’s Focus -  Belonging, April 17, 2016

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