Easter 4C 2016
Acts 9:36-43; Ps. 23; Revelation 7:9-17; John 10:22-30
It was a long time ago; more than two thousand years ago. We’re standing in the grand Portico of Solomon, in the temple of Jerusalem. It’s the Feast of Dedication—Hanukkah, as we know it today. Lamps are lit everywhere we turn. I imagine the yeasty smell of fried dough and sizzling potato pancakes. Children are playing with their favorite spinning top. This feast is a joyous celebration for all. Except for the conversation we are overhearing between Jesus and the religious authorities. This conversation is anything but joyous.
“The Jews” as the writer of the Gospel refers to them, want Jesus to say clearly and plainly who he is. They’ve heard stories about him walking on water, feeding five thousand people with five loaves of barley bread and two fish, they know he restored sight to the man born blind, they’ve just heard him claim to be the good shepherd, but none of this is good enough. They want him to say absolutely, positively, whether or not he is the Messiah.
Surely, some of these pressing Jesus for an answer are genuinely impressed by the things he’s done and the truth he speaks. Others, however, are unconvinced. These suspicious skeptics are saying, “Wait a minute! This man’s breaking the law by healing on the Sabbath; he’s disrespecting our traditions. He’ll destroy our nation and everything for which we’ve worked so hard. Watch out, this one is dangerous!” And so these religious questioners press Jesus: “If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.”
“I’ve already told you,” Jesus answers, “but you do not believe…you do not believe because you are not my sheep.” Using the intimate relationship between a shepherd and his sheep, Jesus says that knowing who he is, is not a statement to be agreed, a matter of fact, of verifiable proof, but is the result of faith, of belief, of trust—a matter of relationship. Who Jesus is must be experienced. The sheep know who the shepherd is because they hear his voice, they know that voice belongs to one who can be trusted to feed them, to care for them, to protect them, to lead them home. “I have told you,” says Jesus…“and you do not believe. But my sheep hear my voice…and they follow.”
The problem with these who are pressing Jesus is that they have to know things concretely—they can’t bear not having everything spelled out clearly and plainly and for certain. For them nothing can be a mystery, a relationship in which one simply believes and is at rest. In fact, so afraid are they of mystery, of uncertainty, of simply trusting and following, that after Jesus finishes speaking they will take up stones to try to kill him.
But don’t fault these questioners too strongly. For we can be like this, at least I can. In similar ways we long for everything in life to be made clear to us. We don’t enjoy living in the tension of ambiguity and the unknown or unseen. Most of us prefer a world of black and white to muted gray and muddy waters. Sometimes we crave certainty in our lives so strongly that we will do almost anything to ensure there are no surprises, no creative spontaneous possibilities, no phenomenal new insights.
And, we often like our theology like this, too. We want easy concepts, simplistic answers, definitive solutions, for our God questions. Or, we overly rely on our intellect as the primary means of engaging the Christian life and are only too happy to argue the finer points of Scripture, creeds and canons. We’re eager to be rational listeners of the Gospel but close our minds to the irrational, unpredictable, mysterious prompting of the Holy Spirit. We keep Jesus at arms-length so can keep an eye on him, where we can hear his wisdom as a teacher, but we are afraid to invite the risen Christ to live in us in a powerful heart-to-heart connection. We dig in our heels and resist for all we’re worth really trusting Jesus and following wherever he leads us.
Which reminds me of a parable the Jesuit priest Anthony DeMello tells called “The Explorer.” In it, a man leaves his village to explore the faraway and exotic Amazon. When he returns home, the villagers are captivated as the explorer describes his experiences, the incredible beauty of the place with its thundering waterfalls, beautiful foliage, and extraordinary wildlife. But he struggles to put into words the feelings, the emotions that flooded his heart when he heard the night sounds of the forest or sensed the dangers of the rapids or simply was at rest in the incredible beauty of it all.
So he tells them they must go to the Amazon themselves. To help them with their journey, the explorer draws a map. Immediately the villagers pounce on the map. They copy the map, so that everyone can have his or her own copy. They frame the map for their town hall and for their homes. Regularly they study the map and discuss it often, until the villagers consider themselves experts on the Amazon—for do they not know the location of every waterfall and rapids, every turn and every bend? But, for all their knowledge, for all their study, they themselves never go, never follow their dreams, never trust themselves to the journey, never see the wonders, and never feel their hearts bursting in wonder and joy.
Friends, you and I are invited to follow Jesus—to embark on an irrational, unpredictable, mysterious journey into mission and ministry that is sure to change our lives and give our church new life. Following Jesus, we will go places we never thought we’d go, do things we never thought we were capable of doing. We saw this last week in the story of Paul and his Damascus Road conversion where he goes from killing Christians to making disciples. We see it today in Peter. In the verses just before the ones we hear today, a paralyzed man is healed when Peter announces, “Jesus Christ heals you.” With this powerful proclamation, the man rises and becomes a witness to the power of God to change lives. And now Peter is used by God to raise Tabitha from the dead! The God who raised Jesus from the dead is still active in the world doing amazing things through Peter. And this is just the beginning of what God is doing in the lives of people to heal and restore this broken world.
Now I cannot plainly tell you, with clarity, where this journey of following Jesus is going to take any of us. We’ve been given a map in the life of Jesus, his disciples and the early Church. But for this journey we must go ourselves. And when we do launch out into the unknown to follow Jesus, here’s what I do know: “The Lord is our shepherd. We shall not want. Goodness and mercy will follow us wherever we are led to go. Jesus, our Shepherd, is holding us and nothing can snatch us away.
Sermon sources: sermon by The Rev. Sharron Lucas; commentary by Lewis Donelson, Gary Jones and Tom Troeger in Feasting on the Word