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If this is the Fourth Sunday of Easter, then this is the Sunday of the Good Shepherd. The psalm is the 23rd psalm, we sing, The king of love my shepherd is and the reading from the Gospel of John is part of the discourse of the good shepherd-"My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish." I wish to lead them into full and abundant life.
From the moment I entered seminary I was told that this ancient agrarian image was irrelevant to modern people most of whom live in urban or suburban environments and do not know anyone who raises, much less, makes their livelihood raising sheep. Perhaps you agree, or once did, when you lived in a more urban environment. I never did. In the more rural environment of Wolfeboro, we know of numerous people who have a few sheep.
What some of you also know, is that my brother makes his living mostly shearing sheep. He also gives demonstrations of sheep shearing at many local fairs. He often brings his dogs along and folks love seeing how with a few whistles they can move the herd around a field. He also sells many of the implements needed in the raising of sheep. If you need a deal on a shepherd's crook, I can probably get you one.
Andy often teases my mother about having two shepherds for sons and has helped me accumulate numerous stories and life lessons from the long New England tradition of sheep rising. But, regardless of what he says, I know that Jesus is the good shepherd, not me. At best, I can be like one of his sheep dogs nipping at the feet of the flock.
But beyond that, and this is what I want to talk about this morning, is the fact that one of my earliest and most powerful childhood memories, one that has shaped both my understanding of Jesus, is of the shepherd carrying a lamb on his shoulders in the kindergarten room of my first church school. I always presumed the shepherd was Jesus who had left the other ninety-nine sheep behind to find the one who was lost, me of course, and to bring that lost soul back to safety.
It was bad art, but wonderful imagery. Jesus became for me the essence of compassion, love and nurture that no threatening biblical passage or Evangelical preacher has ever been able to erase . To some degree, in spite of many difficult and frightening life experiences, that image shaped, and continues to shape, my understanding of my place in the cosmos-never secure, often precarious, but ultimately-and I underline ultimately--safe and hopeful.
I hope the same sense for all Christian people.
I don't know about you, but this has been a week where the image of the good shepherd, of Jesus as the good shepherd of all God's people, has been critical to my health and well-being.
The events of last Monday, the bombs that were left, and then exploded, near the finish line of the Boston Marathon became quickly personal and quite devastating to me-as I know they have been for many of you.
I have lived in the Boston suburbs for close to twenty years of my life, worked in Boston for three and a half years. I have run a marathon and depended on the crowds to keep me going when I no longer believed I could finish the race. In that crowd were my wife and both children. On the twenty-fifth anniversary of that race, my son decided to run the same marathon. My daughter and I, and some of their best friends, were in the crowd to urge Josh on. Since then he has run numerous marathons. He is running two in the next few months. He met the woman whom he will mostly likely marry preparing for his first marathon. She qualified to run Boston this year and my son had been urging her to do so. She decided not to run it, but seven or eight of their running buddies did and they knew well over a dozen folks in the crowd. Talking to him about all of this on Monday night left us both in tears very quickly.
Yes, this got very personally very quickly and I know it was no different for many of you.
Among my first reactions were anger at the perpetrators for attacking one of our most positive community icons and for harming so many innocent people. Then there was the sense of devastation and deep sadness followed very quickly by defiance. I was not alone in this defiance as I heard it voiced by many in the news including our President. I heard the voice in my head shouting,
- "They have picked on the wrong group of athletes to try and intimidate. These folks run through walls as if it is what life is about."
- "They picked the wrong city, region of the country and Nation to try and intimidate! Don't they know the Boston Marathon is run on Patriots' Day-the day we celebrate that a group of no-account farmers took on the most powerful army and navy in the world and kept losing every battle until they won the war."
But my wife quickly cautioned me about those sentiments. "Be careful", she said, "lest you further isolate those who are legitimately afraid, are wounded in some way and are rightly frightened." That slowed me down and brought me very quickly to the images of the good shepherd which were already floating around in my consciousness.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
"I will fear no evil", is not a declaration that fear is wrong. Fear, as I understand it, is the most common of human feelings. It is the feeling we experience more than any other and there is nothing wrong with that--it can keep us safe!
The good shepherd, Jesus, cares for those who are afraid as I learned early contemplating on that image of the shepherd finding and bringing to safety that lost sheep. The good shepherd has compassion on those who are afraid. And so should we who follow him.
But the good shepherd, Jesus, calls us, as does much of the rest of Scripture, not to be controlled by our fear.
I am sure young David was afraid when he went out to meet Goliath the Philistine armed only with a slingshot. But he went anyway as did so many of those first responders-medical personnel, reporters, police and ordinary citizens when that first explosion went off. Knowing, as most of them must have known, that, likely as not, the terrorists have placed a second bomb timed to go off just as the first responders rush in to help.
But rush in to help they did anyway. And this is where we see the best of humankind as opposed to the worst of humankind which the world puts before us each day-the good shepherd in each of us, Christian or not, person of faith or not, allowing our hearts to be open to the pain of another and offering to do what we can, stemming the flow of blood with their handkerchiefs, belts and bare hands.
The fullness of life, the abundant life, the everlasting life, that Jesus invites us into is exactly what we saw in the moments after those explosions: the sense that we are all in this together, that the barriers that often divide us are superficial, that we need each other and that there is great joy and meaning in serving together, journeying together.
The good shepherd, Jesus, does not tell us that there is no evil or that not harm will come upon us or those we love this side of the grave! It is OK, and appropriate to pray for protection and security for ourselves and those we love. But we must not assure anyone that because of Jesus, because they believe in or follow Jesus, that no harm will ever befall them. To do so is just to make another atheist.
No, Jesus does not promise us that we will always be safe, but to be with us in our fear and troubles and that ultimately, ultimately on the other side of the grave, we will be safe and the victory will be won. That is the assurance we hear not only in the good shepherd passages but in the reading from Revelation-the saints gathered around the throne of God in heaven where not harm shall ever befall them and all their tears are wiped away.
The experiences of this week can be so isolating not only for the victims and their families but for all of us. We heard again and again this week that the older of the two alleged perpetrators had no friends and could not understand this. We often hear that these perpetrators are isolated loners.
The most frightening thing is that isolation, according to at least one recent study, is the new normal in America. 25% of Americans have no friends to share their troubles with. Just half of Americans believe they can count on anyone outside their home for support.
Scripture assures us that we have a friend in Jesus, the good shepherd, that even those perpetrators can turn to Jesus for friendship. But that is just an idea until we experience it among the friends of Jesus and that is why I hope, that regardless of what is happening to religion in America and around the world, that church continues to exist in some form or another. Because church is that place, even as it falls short of this hope everyday, where I can come and hope to find friendship, mercy, understanding and redemption day after day after day.
So, before we recite the affirmation of our faith in the Nicene Creed, let's turn to page 476 in the Book of Common Prayer, the red book in your pews. Look at the bottom of page 476 for the King James version of 23rd Psalm and let's stand and say it together.
Psalm 23 King James Version
The Lord is my shepherd; *
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; *
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul; *
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his
Name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; *
for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of
mine enemies; *
thou anointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days
of my life, *
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
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