On the road with the sheep
The Fourth Sunday after Easter
May 3, 2009
Acts 4:5-12, Psalm 23, 1 John 3:16-24, John 10:11-18
I went to a birthday party in Rome, Georgia, yesterday. I’d never been to Rome, Ga., before, so a friend brought along a handy device that got us there. These things go by a lot of names, but basically it’s a talking map hooked up to a satellite.
Most of you have ridden with such a GPS unit in a car before, and many of you own one. Bishop Sloan told me he uses one to find his way to all these churches he’s never been to before, and he just about always find them.
So this is nothing new to most folks. Thus far in my life, I had gotten along on maps and written-down directions. So this was new to me – but I’m a 21st-century kind of guy and I’m open to new things.
It was a bit weird at first. And being a single man, having a woman’s voice telling me where to turn and what road to take … well, it took some getting used to. And I did.
“Go 800 yards and turn right at Highway Two-hundred-seventy-eight. Bear left. Continue for 27 miles.”
Like I said, weird. But useful.
Riding shotgun on this particular trip was the owner of this little device, a friend and colleague – Fr. Matthew Grunfeld, the rector of Emmanuel Church in Opelika. He and I were visiting a seminary classmate who is a priest at St. Peter’s in Rome. [Georgia, not the Vatican.]
So with two priests locked in a car – and no, this isn’t the start of a joke – with two priests on a road trip you get a lot of talk about… church. And Scripture. Especially the Scripture coming up on Sunday.
What are you going to preach on? I dunno, what are you going to preach on?
Fr. Matthew recalled Bishop Neal Alexander of the Diocese of Atlanta, who preached on this Gospel text at the ordination of a new priest. “Remember,” the bishop said to the new priest, “remember that YOU are not the Good Shepherd.”
That’s important advice that some clergy with big egos might forget.
We priests are shepherds, but not THE shepherd. Not the GOOD shepherd.
The Good Shepherd – not “good” as in ranging somewhere on a scale of bad to excellent. But “good” as in true, genuine, the real deal.
Not merely a hired hand. Not a false shepherd. Not someone who would lead the sheep astray by ignorance or laziness or evil intent.
I as a priest am called to be a shepherd. But not THE shepherd. Note the crosier of a bishop – a fancy version of a shepherd’s crook, reminding bishops that they are shepherds. But not THE Good Shepherd.
We are all but pale imitations of the real shepherd, the genuine, shepherd, the real deal. We follow the example set forth by Jesus Christ, but only in imitation and only with limitation. For there is one Shepherd, one Messiah, one Christ.
I’ve heard more sermons on shepherds than I have actually seen shepherds. Invariably those sermons talk about how dirty and smelly and stupid sheep are and I always come away a little uncomfortable with the shepherd-sheep metaphor. You’ve probably heard that sermon.
But from some of what I’ve heard preached, and from what little I’ve seen of them in action, I find that shepherds don’t do a lot of talking.
For one thing, they’re out there alone with the sheep and maybe a dog for company. So they whistle a lot – to the dogs, not the sheep – giving direction to that hard-working canine assistant.
And the sheep? They get nudged along from place to place, pushed around a little and herded by the dog. They get nipped at the heels a little when they head off in the wrong direction, but otherwise pretty much seem to think that they’re headed where they want to go.
All this time, they are watched over by the shepherd, who doesn’t want to lose a single lamb, no matter how small and pitiful.
There’s not a lot of explicit direction from the shepherd, especially not in words. The shepherd tends to be found walking alongside or behind the sheep. Keeping an eye on where they go, hoping they end up in the right place.
Out in the field, you don’t hear: “In 800 yards, bear right to the barn.” You do get nudged along, maybe herded back in a little. Less explicit direction, more community protection.
That’s something else my friend and I talked about on that car trip – community. He raised that classic preacher conversation-starter: “It’s said that most preachers have one sermon in them that they preach over and over. What’s yours?”
I told him that mine is probably on the topic of “Why do bad things happen to good people?” and that the sermon probably ends with “And that’s why you need to pray more.”
Fr. Matthew said that at his church, his go-to sermon theme probably has been about the importance of community. His church has gone through some difficult times before his arrival, and Christian community needs to be preached there.
And here. And everywhere.
We talked it through and, for the first time, it dawned on me that Christian community is a strong theme running through these texts for Good Shepherd Sunday.
Most often, I and the preachers I have heard have concentrated on the shepherd, and noted in passing the smelly and stupid nature of the sheep. But rarely have I thought through the other implications of this Gospel and these other Scripture readings.
“The Lord is my shepherd” – my shepherd. He leadeth me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me.
I tend to read the 23rd Psalm as regarding me and the shepherd – not the shepherd and a greater flock. I tend to read the Gospel of John and think of me and the shepherd.
That’s one of the peculiarities of our language, that the noun “sheep” is both singular and plural. So I read it as the good shepherd lays down his life for me – when in reality the good shepherd lays down his life for me AND for the many.
He is my shepherd AND your shepherd – the good shepherd for us and for those unknown – those “other sheep that do not belong to this flock.”
For me and for the many. For you and for the many. For those known and unknown, of this flock and the many others. For all the world.
Another part of this image I have let go unconsidered on too many occasions is the notion of the responsibility of the sheep. Yes, the responsibility of the sheep.
This is the part where the shepherd and sheep metaphor breaks down a little – actual sheep do not do much caring for one another. Perhaps they’re spending too much time being smelly and stupid.
But the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd is only a partial image – only one of the many ways that Jesus talked about himself and his relationship with Creation. Jesus is the Good Shepherd, but he calls upon us to be shepherds as well.
Not just bishops and priests, not just deacons and Lay Eucharistic Ministers. Not just ECW and EYC and Sunday School Teachers and Bible Teachers.
Not just those with a robe to wear. Not just those with a title.
Just the saints, you and me. Just the saints. The sheep. They’re all the same. You and me, individually and all together. The saints and the sheep, the followers of Christ. All those who follow – as crazy as it sounds – all those who follow are called upon to lead.
Not to give directions – “In 800 yards sign up for coffee hour.” Not to boss or nag or drag along. But to lead as a shepherd does. To watch out for one another, to be responsible for one another, to care for one another. To lay down a part of your life for another. To love one another.
We are told this in the First Epistle of John: “And this is his commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us. All who obey his commandments abide in him, and he abides in them. And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit that he has given us.”
The Good Shepherd is with us and in us. We are by him, and with him, and in him. We are called to be with one another, in this one flock, leading one another by loving one another.
By being a Christian. By becoming a shepherd.
Amen.
May 3, 2009
Acts 4:5-12, Psalm 23, 1 John 3:16-24, John 10:11-18
I went to a birthday party in Rome, Georgia, yesterday. I’d never been to Rome, Ga., before, so a friend brought along a handy device that got us there. These things go by a lot of names, but basically it’s a talking map hooked up to a satellite.
Most of you have ridden with such a GPS unit in a car before, and many of you own one. Bishop Sloan told me he uses one to find his way to all these churches he’s never been to before, and he just about always find them.
So this is nothing new to most folks. Thus far in my life, I had gotten along on maps and written-down directions. So this was new to me – but I’m a 21st-century kind of guy and I’m open to new things.
It was a bit weird at first. And being a single man, having a woman’s voice telling me where to turn and what road to take … well, it took some getting used to. And I did.
“Go 800 yards and turn right at Highway Two-hundred-seventy-eight. Bear left. Continue for 27 miles.”
Like I said, weird. But useful.
Riding shotgun on this particular trip was the owner of this little device, a friend and colleague – Fr. Matthew Grunfeld, the rector of Emmanuel Church in Opelika. He and I were visiting a seminary classmate who is a priest at St. Peter’s in Rome. [Georgia, not the Vatican.]
So with two priests locked in a car – and no, this isn’t the start of a joke – with two priests on a road trip you get a lot of talk about… church. And Scripture. Especially the Scripture coming up on Sunday.
What are you going to preach on? I dunno, what are you going to preach on?
Fr. Matthew recalled Bishop Neal Alexander of the Diocese of Atlanta, who preached on this Gospel text at the ordination of a new priest. “Remember,” the bishop said to the new priest, “remember that YOU are not the Good Shepherd.”
That’s important advice that some clergy with big egos might forget.
We priests are shepherds, but not THE shepherd. Not the GOOD shepherd.
The Good Shepherd – not “good” as in ranging somewhere on a scale of bad to excellent. But “good” as in true, genuine, the real deal.
Not merely a hired hand. Not a false shepherd. Not someone who would lead the sheep astray by ignorance or laziness or evil intent.
I as a priest am called to be a shepherd. But not THE shepherd. Note the crosier of a bishop – a fancy version of a shepherd’s crook, reminding bishops that they are shepherds. But not THE Good Shepherd.
We are all but pale imitations of the real shepherd, the genuine, shepherd, the real deal. We follow the example set forth by Jesus Christ, but only in imitation and only with limitation. For there is one Shepherd, one Messiah, one Christ.
I’ve heard more sermons on shepherds than I have actually seen shepherds. Invariably those sermons talk about how dirty and smelly and stupid sheep are and I always come away a little uncomfortable with the shepherd-sheep metaphor. You’ve probably heard that sermon.
But from some of what I’ve heard preached, and from what little I’ve seen of them in action, I find that shepherds don’t do a lot of talking.
For one thing, they’re out there alone with the sheep and maybe a dog for company. So they whistle a lot – to the dogs, not the sheep – giving direction to that hard-working canine assistant.
And the sheep? They get nudged along from place to place, pushed around a little and herded by the dog. They get nipped at the heels a little when they head off in the wrong direction, but otherwise pretty much seem to think that they’re headed where they want to go.
All this time, they are watched over by the shepherd, who doesn’t want to lose a single lamb, no matter how small and pitiful.
There’s not a lot of explicit direction from the shepherd, especially not in words. The shepherd tends to be found walking alongside or behind the sheep. Keeping an eye on where they go, hoping they end up in the right place.
Out in the field, you don’t hear: “In 800 yards, bear right to the barn.” You do get nudged along, maybe herded back in a little. Less explicit direction, more community protection.
That’s something else my friend and I talked about on that car trip – community. He raised that classic preacher conversation-starter: “It’s said that most preachers have one sermon in them that they preach over and over. What’s yours?”
I told him that mine is probably on the topic of “Why do bad things happen to good people?” and that the sermon probably ends with “And that’s why you need to pray more.”
Fr. Matthew said that at his church, his go-to sermon theme probably has been about the importance of community. His church has gone through some difficult times before his arrival, and Christian community needs to be preached there.
And here. And everywhere.
We talked it through and, for the first time, it dawned on me that Christian community is a strong theme running through these texts for Good Shepherd Sunday.
Most often, I and the preachers I have heard have concentrated on the shepherd, and noted in passing the smelly and stupid nature of the sheep. But rarely have I thought through the other implications of this Gospel and these other Scripture readings.
“The Lord is my shepherd” – my shepherd. He leadeth me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me.
I tend to read the 23rd Psalm as regarding me and the shepherd – not the shepherd and a greater flock. I tend to read the Gospel of John and think of me and the shepherd.
That’s one of the peculiarities of our language, that the noun “sheep” is both singular and plural. So I read it as the good shepherd lays down his life for me – when in reality the good shepherd lays down his life for me AND for the many.
He is my shepherd AND your shepherd – the good shepherd for us and for those unknown – those “other sheep that do not belong to this flock.”
For me and for the many. For you and for the many. For those known and unknown, of this flock and the many others. For all the world.
Another part of this image I have let go unconsidered on too many occasions is the notion of the responsibility of the sheep. Yes, the responsibility of the sheep.
This is the part where the shepherd and sheep metaphor breaks down a little – actual sheep do not do much caring for one another. Perhaps they’re spending too much time being smelly and stupid.
But the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd is only a partial image – only one of the many ways that Jesus talked about himself and his relationship with Creation. Jesus is the Good Shepherd, but he calls upon us to be shepherds as well.
Not just bishops and priests, not just deacons and Lay Eucharistic Ministers. Not just ECW and EYC and Sunday School Teachers and Bible Teachers.
Not just those with a robe to wear. Not just those with a title.
Just the saints, you and me. Just the saints. The sheep. They’re all the same. You and me, individually and all together. The saints and the sheep, the followers of Christ. All those who follow – as crazy as it sounds – all those who follow are called upon to lead.
Not to give directions – “In 800 yards sign up for coffee hour.” Not to boss or nag or drag along. But to lead as a shepherd does. To watch out for one another, to be responsible for one another, to care for one another. To lay down a part of your life for another. To love one another.
We are told this in the First Epistle of John: “And this is his commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us. All who obey his commandments abide in him, and he abides in them. And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit that he has given us.”
The Good Shepherd is with us and in us. We are by him, and with him, and in him. We are called to be with one another, in this one flock, leading one another by loving one another.
By being a Christian. By becoming a shepherd.
Amen.
posted by Michael+ at 5:05 PM
